#still haven't figured out glaze

[sensitive-shark]

This is my son, he has no name.

[canisalbus]

Machete and Vasco are so pomegranate-and-the-hand-that-slices coded. To me.

Pomegranates are seen as messy, bloody, inconvenient fruits. You slice or tear or bite and in return for your effort you come away underwhelmed, disgusted, and stained too deep to wash. The consumption of a pomegranate is a violent act of defilement, for both the fruit and the eater.

But that is because most do not understand how to open a pomegranate. They have little patience for the precise carving. They see no point in coreing the fruit gently, no reason to be reverent as they pull the quarters apart. When done correctly, opening a pomegranate leaves little mess. Your fingers will still stain, your knife will still slick, but there will be no pool of crimson drowning both you and the fruit.

The seeds are only sweet to those who understand the merit of a light hand and intricate slicing. Why put in so much effort for a food so bitter and clearly armored against consumption? Surely it must not yearn to be eaten.

(^insane about silly catholic dogs)

.

[briightart]

finally a new pfp :'3

[yukinomonshou]

anyone got a good tutorial on how to glaze......it seems like it should be simple but for some reason mine keeps. making the entire art piece the same color as the lineart. i don't know what's going wrong aaaah

[cheollipop]

Hard thoughts hm?

Woosanhwa fighting for dominance over u👀👀

it took me a moment to figure out what to write for this but oh my god. I could kiss you. you really came at me with my bias line huh???

I kind of interpreted it as them fighting over who would have you first and.... it just kept getting filthier and filthier.... teehee ( ´∀`)

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

seonghwa’s fingers glided over your heated skin, tracing the curve of your breast down to the dip of your belly button. "who do you want first, darling?"

your thighs pressed together, the slick from your previous orgasms smeared all over your inner thighs. looking between the three men, your mind went blank. you knew seonghwa usually preferred to go last, but the glimmer in his eyes was unfamiliar, pure lust glazing them over. wooyoung's palm flattened over your lower belly, pulling you out of your thoughts, but just as you were about to look over at him, gentle fingers twisted your head the other way and feline eyes met yours. san's gaze was soft, his signature pout present on his lips as he leaned into your personal space.

"you'll let me have you first, won't you, jagi?" he mumbled, the pout muffling some of his words. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise," his fingers sneaked their way between your legs, sliding through your slit to collect some of your arousal before moving back up to rub slow circles around your clit.

you breathed out a quiet moan, san's slow movements sending pleasant tingles buzzing through your body. another set of fingers joined san's, tapping firmly on your entrance before sinking into your dripping heat.

"san-ah, stop playing dirty," wooyoung grumbled, pressing himself to your side and nibbling on your collarbone, working his fingers inside you at a languid pace. "still so fucking tight, even after taking our cocks so many times."

the rate at which they played with your pussy was driving you insane, your hips bucking to meet wooyoung's fingers, but seonghwa brushed san's hand away to land a harsh slap on your clit.

"behave," he warned. the deep baritone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, nodding quickly with a whispered sorry on your lips. "good girl," he praised, brushing your hair off your face. "how about you let whoever makes you feel the best fuck you first, hm?"

you nodded again, a soft moan leaving your lips in response as wooyoung’s fingers found your g-spot. you hadn't expected seonghwa to participate, assuming he'd sit back and watch the two younger men compete against each other, but he quickly disappeared from your vision, laying flat on his stomach with his face between your legs, his tongue rolling out to lick around your stretched hole.

the pressure in your lower belly was building rapidly, and the subtle squeezes your walls gave wooyoung’s fingers alerted him to your impending orgasm. slow thrusts turned to rapid pumping of his fingers inside you, curling them directly into your swollen gland to watch your features contort with pleasure.

san knew he wouldn't be the one to make you cum, his fingers rubbing over your clit desperately despite the cramp in his wrist. so he opted for playing dirty —pressing his lips to your pulse point, biting down on your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to mask the lewd squelching of your cunt. "please, baby, 'want you so bad. can you feel how much I need you?" he whispered —low and sultry— while rutting his cock over your hip, the hard length heavy on your skin.

but then seonghwa's tongue was slipping inside you, curling around wooyoung's fingers to prod at your g-spot as well. wooyoung's mouth pressed against yours, drinking up your broken moans before leaning back to spit onto your tongue. "look at you, already fucked dumb and you haven't even had a cock inside you yet," the corners of his lips tugged upwards, the desperate whine you let out going straight to his dick. he trailed his lips over your face, kissing over the tears streaming down your temples.

seonghwa moved off you, slipping his tongue out to slide in a finger alongside wooyoung's, tugging against your enterance to watch it gape. he pursed his lips and spat inside your tight cunt, taking in how it mixed with your arousal and seeped out of your wet hole as wooyoung pumped his fingers inside it. "be a good girl and cum for us, sweetheart," he groaned, leaning in to slither his tongue back inside you.

your orgasm hit you like a shockwave, the three men adjusting their pace to guide you through it—san shifted back to lazy circles around your swollen clit, wooyoung reveled in the tight squeeze around his fingers as they curled leisurely inside you, seonghwa's tongue moving in shallow thrusts while his hands held your hips down on the mattress. when the waves of pleasure blurring your vision shifted into pain from overstimulation, the three men moved off you, and you relished their delicate touch all over your body—seonghwa’s lips leaving a trail of kisses up your torso, wooyoung burying his face in your chest, his hands kneading your spasming thighs, san busying himself with peppering tender pecks over your face, his hand locked tightly with yours.

but then seonghwa's lips reached your neck, and you suddenly became aware of the three men's hard arousal pressing into your heated skin. the oldest hovered over you and watched as realization seeped into your expression, your eyes shyly meeting his through your lashes, his own glazed over with burning lust as they stared back at you.

"so, who's gonna fuck you first, angel?"

part 2

[esamastation]

Part forty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one

-

The Turks have arranged everything. Sort of. The charcoal burner's house is long abandoned and remote, not close to any main routes, so it would be private. In the books, both Sephiroth and Angeal are taking part in a classified mission with the Turks, which has been approved by both the Director of the SOLDIER program and the Acting Director of the Turks. It would take someone higher up in the Public Security Department to delve deeper than that, and since the President had already given his seal of approval, there's not much even Heidegger can do about it.

"And Rude is bringing everything we'll need to survive," Reno finishes. "Starting today, your priority is sorting out whatever is going on with you, free of distractions, external stressors and hopefully of further incidents."

Sephiroth still seems to be stuck on the getting his shit together part of the mission and apparently isn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

Angeal clears his throat. "And what are we supposed to… do, exactly?"

"Hell if I know," Reno shrugs and nods at Sephiroth. "Figure you'd sort it out by yourself, with your new spooky… whatever it is you got going on. You seem to have some idea."

"Uh," Sephiroth answers. 

Eloquent.

Angeal runs a hand down his face. Then he laughs. "Okay, I have to admit. I'm impressed. I didn't really think you'd do anything, but - I'm impressed." And more than slightly intimidated by the connections and liberties the Turks have, but that's not exactly new. "How long do we have?"

"Until further notice, or until someone back in Midgar gets antsy," Reno shrugs. "I'm thinking maybe don't worry about time. If you need more, we will arrange some."

Huh. "This is really that important, then?"

Reno gives Sephiroth a look and then looks at Angeal. "Yeah," he says, a deceptively easy answer.

That's… somehow a little disconcerting. Certainly Sephiroth is invaluable to the program and to the company, but this… this is beyond VIP treatment.

"I see," Angeal murmurs and clears his throat.

Sephiroth finally shakes himself loose from his surprise, enough to look first somewhat sheepish - and then intrigued. "So, I can do whatever I want here?"

"Pretty much," Reno agrees, without any care for how alarming the question is. "And if you need something to further your whatever, we'll get it for you."

"Nice. And there will be no other missions if I don't want to do them right now?" Sephiroth asks.

"You can do them or not as you'd like - none of them have higher priority than this, and they can be delegated to other people, if it comes to that."

Sephiroth runs a hand over his chin. "And if I want access to some material that might be to some extent classified?"

Reno narrows his eyes. "Like what?"

"Haven't decided yet," Sephiroth answers flippantly. "But it might come up."

"... Great. We'll review case by case when we come to it," Reno mutters. "Though you know it's a bitch to get stuff shipped here, right? We're on another continent."

"Yes, yes, it's very impressive," Sephiroth says dismissively and thinks about something for a moment. Then he looks at the charcoal burner's house with a discerning eye. "And you'll be staying here too?" he then asks, glazing at Reno. "To watch us?"

Reno shrugs, unapologetic.

Sephiroth eyes him for a moment and then turns back to the house. "Very well. It will do."

"... Awesome," Reno says and motions. "Go, make yourselves comfortable or whatever. I'm going to walk the perimeter and set some traps."

"Mmhmm," Sephiroth answers, already striding back into the house with a proprietor's casual confidence, and Angeal can just imagine the furniture soon to be rearranged inside.

He hesitates before following and looks at Reno. "What is this really about? It's not just that Sephiroth lost control, is it?"

Reno considers him. "Well, duh, no," he says. "It's the stuff he's been saying in between."

And the abilities he seems to be on the verge of developing. "What's the official view on what's happening to Sephiroth?" What are they expecting from him?

"There isn't one," Reno says and arches his brows meaningfully, and then turns to go.

Angeal's face tightens, and he knows he probably doesn't understand the implications… but then maybe he does. All this effort and all the stuff that's been going on… whatever it is, the company is looking forward to benefiting from it greatly. And they want no one messing with what is happening before they do.

Angeal thinks of the moment Sephiroth communed with the old tree the day before, and for a moment he really wishes it was Genesis here with him instead. Genesis would actually know how to handle all of this. Angeal isn't even sure if he can ask Genesis about this, if he can talk to him about this!

Never mind the fact that Genesis probably has his hands full with whatever is happening back at Shinra Building… the aftermath of Sephiroth's incident and whatever Professor Hojo was doing…

Angeal turns to head inside.

… Where Sephiroth has begun poking around the house, and, of course, is already moving furniture around.

"I see you are all for this," Angeal comments.

"I'll take all the extra time I can get," Sephiroth mutters while carrying a little table to the middle of the main room. "Though I am not exactly happy about being under Turk supervision, I'll take it over the alternative."

Angeal hums, looking around and then deciding that Sephiroth probably doesn't need - or want - his help in decorating. "What's the alternative?"

Sephiroth grimaces and goes to move a bookshelf.

Okay then. Ominous. Angeal sighs and sets the Buster Sword down to lean against the wall near the door, right beside Masamune. "You know they expect something to come from this. For you to… to make it worth their while."

Sephiroth half laughs and half scoffs. "I just bet they do," he agrees and picks up somewhat dusty cushions and considers them with a frown.

Angeal folds his arms. "Are you going to?" he then asks, worried.

Sephiroth pauses and looks away, dropping the cushions by the table in the middle. "No," he says finally. "I don't imagine I will. Regardless," he shakes his head. "This is the next best thing to a full-on seclusion, and I am damn well going to make the most of it."

Angeal doesn't know what that means, but it doesn't matter. "Okay," he says and draws a breath. "Guess we'll… just stay here for the time being, then."

Sephiroth hums in agreement. "Guess so. Does it bother you?"

"No more than anything else around Wutai," Angeal admits and looks up at the ceiling. "We were already looking forward to a prolonged stay in someone's abandoned home. This place is honestly an improvement."

Sephiroth relaxes a little. "Yeah. And hey, the people here weren't chased out or killed by Shinra. That's something."

Angeal looks at him curiously. "How do you know that?"

"The original owner left a scrap piece of letter behind. Apparently they were invited to the capital," Sephiroth says.

… Sephiroth reads the Wutai language? Huh. Angeal didn't know that.

"I guess that's good to know," he says and then sighs. "Okay, so. This… thing you're doing. Your energy alignment stuff. Is there anything I can do to help? What do you need?"

Sephiroth hesitates between moving some jars around and looks at him. "I need a proper cleared training area," he says and offers him a wry smile. "At least as big as the training room back at Shinra Building."

"I can do that, yeah," Angeal says. "Anything else?"

Sephiroth thinks about it for a moment before setting the jars back down. "I'll let you know."

Angeal nods and gets to it. There's not much he can do when Sephiroth refuses to trust him, but… he'd do what he could.

Hopefully by the end of it, it would be enough.

-

Time for a training montage.

[jordie-gvf]

heartsick slumber, Jake Kiszka

pic creds to @jakeforsakeher on twitter

title creds to @tripthelightfatality

creds to @ourlovegrows and @positivegvfthings

warnings : angst, cursing, accusations of cheating, cigarette smoking, use of Y/N, mentions of being drunk, slight issues with body image, allusions to sex, i think thats it, please let me know if i missed any!

word count : 2.1k+

thank you guys for being patient with me! i appreciate it more than you know

Whenever you got home from work, you would go upstairs and take a bath to decompress from the day. 

When you got home, Jake's car wasn't in the driveway, you figured he was still at the studio. You put your purse and lunch bag down onto the counter and went upstairs to relax. You shimmied off your outside clothes and headed to your bathroom. 

Your favorite part of your new home was the bathtub. You turned the faucet almost all the way to the left and grabbed your candles and bubbles. As the tub was filling, you grabbed a book from your bedroom. 

You lit the candles and added the bubbles. You put your hair up into a claw clip and settled into the bath. You had your phone next to you on the bathtub just in case Jake called you.

You opened your book and relaxed backward into the tub. You read for about thirty minutes before you start to feel hungry. You went to get up from the water when your phone vibrated next to you. You had a text from your best friend, Kylie.

Kylie Girl ❣️

Girl, you need to go look at Instagram, now.

You started panicking and immediately checked your Instagram. You opened the app to see pictures of Jake with a woman who looked completely opposite of you. She was skinnier, prettier, skinnier. 

The closer you looked, the more upset you got. He had his arm around her, kissing the side of her head. You checked the tags and zoomed in, making sure it was Jake, sure enough, it was. You found her name was Naomi.

You got out of the tub and got dressed in some simple shorts and tee. You locked your phone and went downstairs to start cooking dinner. 

You were halfway done cooking when Jake walked into the house, guitar case in hand. “Hey, Baby. How was work?” he asked you.

“Fine,” you replied, in a monotonous tone, not wanting to talk to him that much. 

“Okay,” he dragged out, not believing you. He walked into his home studio and put his guitar case down. He came back out to help you with dinner. 

“Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I can do it.”

“Baby, let me help you.”

“Jake, I’m fine.”

He put his hands up in surrender and walked into the living room to let you finish dinner. You made the finishing touches on dinner and called him into the kitchen. He put his guitar down on the couch and walked over to the dining room table. 

“Mm, you made my favorite,” Jake said, pulling out his chair and taking a seat. You grabbed him a beer from the fridge as well as a chilled glass for him.

You made honey glazed salmon, coconut fried rice and garlic parmesan knots. You served Jake his dinner and brought him a fork before you sat down. He said thank you and you decided to keep quiet.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? You've barely talked to me.” 

You shook your head and pursed your lips, “Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m fine.”

He sighed at your response and proceeded to eat dinner. You picked at your food, nothing going past your lips. Once Jake was finished, you grabbed the plates and continued to the sink. You put the dishes in the sink and grabbed all the pots and pans for you to wash. 

You started the water and started washing everything before Jake came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He reached in front of you and turned the water off and said, “The dishes can wait, let's go make some noise.”

You scoffed and turned the water back on. “Go make noise with Naomi,” you said, coldly. He froze and removed his hands from your waist. “Seriously? That's what this is about?! Are you seriously not talking to me over this? She’s a friend from high school. I haven't seen her in a long time.”

“I’m staying at Kylie and Dave’s. I don't want to see you right now,” you firmly told him, silently telling him that there was no negotiating in you staying home tonight.

“Fine. Fine! Walk away from your problems and put your head in the sand!”

You turned your back to him and quickly went up the stairs to your bedroom. You locked the door and called Kylie, asking her if you could come over.

She picked up after two rings, “Hey, Y/N. You okay, baby?”

“Can I come over? I can’t look at him right now.”

“Of course you can, I’ll get the guest bedroom set up.” 

“Thank you,” you said through tears, gasping for breath. 

You promptly hung up and packed enough clothing for the next five days. You walked into the bathroom and grabbed all your toiletries and everything you needed. You put your shoes on and grabbed your car keys, ready to peel out of the driveway.

You clutched your phone to your chest and all but ran down the stairs and straight to the garage. Jake wasn't in the kitchen, but all the dishes were done and everything was put away. You heard the strum of his beloved girlfriend coming from his music room. 

Before you left, you grabbed a piece of paper and left him a note,

I’m at Kylie’s. Don’t bother texting or showing up. I’ll be home soon.

You had been gone for about 10 minutes before you started getting phone calls from Jake. You answered the phone after the 17th call, tired of hearing the constant ringing. 

“Where are you?”

“There’s a note.”

“Y/N, where are you.”

“McDonalds. Bye,” you hung up the phone, and sipped your Dr. Pepper. You texted Kylie and told her that you were on the way and that you got her an oreo McFlurry for letting you stay with her. 

When you got to Kylie’s house, Dave greeted you at your car and gave you a big hug, letting you know that you would be all right. 

Kylie came out shortly after him and brought you inside while Dave grabbed your stuff. She had her arms wrapped around your shoulders and put you down on the couch. He brought your stuff into the guest bedroom and went to their bedroom to give you and Kylie some space to talk.

“So, what happened?” She asked you, wanting all the details

“When you texted me, I was in the tub. I looked at instagram and did some snooping and eventually found out that it was him. When he came home, I knew he knew something was wrong with me. I didn't even touch dinner and when I went to do the dishes, he wanted to go upstairs,” you took a second to calm down, getting sad at the thought of leaving him by himself. As much as you hated leaving him, you couldn’t fathom looking at him right now. 

You continued, “I told him to go be with Naomi and that’s when it got heated. I never thought he would do this to me, not once. We love each other, whenever we get into arguments, we work it out. I’ve never left the house like this, he can’t sleep without me next to him.”

She grasped you tightly and kissed your head. “Go get some sleep, my love. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Dave came back downstairs and put his hands around your shoulders and told you, “Everything is set up for you, take your time.”

Kylie let go of you and helped you up off the couch to get you upstairs and asleep. You knew where their guest bedroom was, so you told Kylie to sit back down, that you could get up there yourself. 

You crested the top of the stairs and jetted for the guest bedroom. You opened the door to see the bed beautifully made, the pillows were propped up, and Dave had on Gilmore Girls for you. 

You sighed and lazily walked over to the bed, dropping your phone onto the bedside table and smushing your face into the soft pillow. 

You woke up the smell of pancakes being cooked. You checked the time, 11:03 AM. You got up out of the warm bed and trudged down the stairs. You saw Kylie at the kitchen table and Dave at the stove, flipping pancakes. 

Kylie smiled at you as you walked into the kitchen. “Here, I made you a cup of coffee. Brown sugar and milk.” You smiled at her and gladly took the cup of coffee, sipping gently on the warm liquid. 

You heard a knock on the door. Kylie popped her head up and said, “Don’t worry, I called in backup. It's Trysta.” You smiled at her kind gesture of inviting one of your best friends over. 

Kylie answered the door and in came your best friend, kindly smiling at you. “Hey baby girl, how are ya,” she asked. You gave her a light and quick smile, “utterly terrible. How are you?” 

She chuckled and said, “Dealing with drunks in my bar, had someone get on the bartop and moon everyone.” You laughed in response to her night. 

“How wonderful. I found out my boyfriend cheated on me, so that's how my night went.”

She gave you a downward smile and drank her coffee. You reluctantly turned on your phone, expecting to see a shitload of messages. 

“Oh Y/N, I never told you. Jake came in last night and drank. We had to get the bouncer to tell him to leave. We called him an Uber, I couldn't let him drive like that.” Trysta told you. 

“Thank you for not letting him drive. He say anything to you?”

“Yeah, that it wasn't true. That she was just a girl from high school. Honey, I really don't think he did it. You know what they say, the truth comes out when you're drunk.”

You nodded in agreement, sipping your coffee and eating your pancakes. “I should probably go see him, knock some sense into him.” 

Kylie perked up, “Are you sure you're ready for that? It might be a little hard on you.”

“Yeah, I'm ready. I was ready to go back as soon as I left. I know he can't sleep without me. Let me finish and I'll be out of your hair.” 

Trysta gathered her things and left a kiss on your forehead and left. After you ate, Kylie packed your stuff while you showered and put everything in your car. 

When you got to the house, you saw the familiar white jeep truck and an orange tesla in your driveway. You grabbed all your stuff from your trunk and made your way into the garage. Once you stepped foot into the kitchen, you heard Jake and his brothers on the back porch talking.

“You know you have to tell her, right?” You heard Josh say. 

“Tell her what? That I dated Naomi for two months in high school is now a lesbian and I definitely didn't cheat on her?” Jake exclaimed, throwing his hands up before taking a drag of Sams cigarette.

You stayed in the kitchen and listened to their conversation before pulling your pack of reds out of your purse and walking to the back porch. “Hi Jake. Boys, give us a minute?” 

Sam and Josh quickly nodded, Sam handing you his lighter, because he knows you always ask for his. You smiled at him quickly as he walked into the house, closing the back door. You motioned for Jake to sit with you on the bed swing. 

He followed suit as you laid down with your reds and pulled out a cigarette. Jake quickly grabs it from you, as per Jake, “I'll never make you hold your own cigarettes.”

You smiled at him, even though you were upset, he was still your polite Jake. He opted not to smoke with you, due to him and Sam smoking earlier.

He started first, “You know I never cheated on you. I wouldn't dream of it. I could never see you with another man. I'm the only one who knows how you like your tea. Your coffee order. You like to do puzzles before bed. You shampoo your hair twice, then brush it. You love watching movies with Josh. You can't sleep until I'm in bed with you. You love making love under the stars, and no one else would know that you love getting your tits sucked while you ride me. No one else knows you like I do.”

“I know you didn't, I heard you. I'm sorry for being such a bitch.”

“Youre sorry? Plum, you didn't do anything wrong. I should have explained it to you as soon as I got home. I’m sorry, sugar plum.” 

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a big kiss. By now, you were finished with your cigarette. Once you stopped, you smirked at him and said, “Still up for making some noise?” 

“Always.”

taglist : @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @ourlovegrows @gretnavannfleet @feilores @haileygvf @tripthelightfatality

[l0v3tast3]

here to help — spike spiegel

spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end

✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)

✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!

masterlist

spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.

being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.

you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.

now, though, you were anything but quiet.

spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.

he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.

this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.

spike was fed up.

he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.

your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?

he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.

"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.

it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."

"you need some help?"

spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.

"are- are you serious?"

"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"

you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"you gotta say it, sweetheart."

your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"

he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.

breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.

your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.

"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.

"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.

"what do you want me to do, hm?"

"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.

"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.

he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.

"ha-a, ah! spike!"

your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.

it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.

he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.

you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.

"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."

spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.

he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.

"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"

you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.

admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.

and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.

jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.

"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"

"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."

spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.

"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"

"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"

he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.

"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"

you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.

he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.

your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.

spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).

"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.

you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.

"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"

that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.

he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.

you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.

"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."

spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.

scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.

of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.

"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"

he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.

"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.

your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.

"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"

you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.

"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.

he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.

you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.

the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.

"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"

"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"

he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.

"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."

he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.

"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.

"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"

he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.

"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.

"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.

he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.

he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.

the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.

during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.

he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.

"spike! where the hell have you been?"

"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.

"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.

you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).

it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.

he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.

you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.

"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.

spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.

"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.

spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.

your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."

"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."

"well, yeah, but-"

"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."

"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.

"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.

you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.

once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.

"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."

regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.

when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.

he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"

spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.

"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."

"riiight. sure, sweetheart."

[spiderfunkz]

city of stars , blurbs — [ chore ] sender does a chore they know receiver hates doing + tasm!peter because he’s such an acts of service guy <3 me personally I hate cleaning the bathroom so I’d literally propose on the spot if he did that for me <3

[ chore ] sender does a chore they know reciever hates doing + tasm!peter

warnings : all fluff, established relationship, mentions of food, gn!reader, this was so rushed i'm sorry ml.

peter is 100% an acts of service guy!!!! he's so sweet i am so☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ also sorry this took a bit i've been really busy with tests and didn't have time to write this

apple cinnamon, strawberry glaze, and chocolate sprinkles. you repeat in your head, making sure you bought the same donuts as the ones you wrote in your journal.

the walk was nice, you finally had some free time after a while and chose to treat yourself with some alone time, and donuts.

the wind blows through your hair as you spot an orange leaf by a tree. fall was coming very soon, you can basically feel it.

the weather was perfect, it was cold. cold to the point you can finally wear sweaters again and buy overpriced hot chocolate almost everyday. but not cold to the point you have to hibernate in your apartment for days because the air outside will freeze your lungs.

speaking of apartments, peter was staying over for a bit. after noticing that you've been busy with work all week, staying over and checking up on your was the least he could do.

the keys jingle as you open your apartment door. "pete! i got the donuts i've been craving, do you wanna try some?" you yell out, eyes still focused on the door you're trying to lock. you were met with silence.

"peter?" you yell again.

"in here!" he replies, the voice was coming from the - bathroom?

you put the donuts on the kitchen counter as you walk towards your bathroom.

you haven't had time to clean it yet, poor peter was probably frightened by the sight of the wilting flowers near the sink, or the used candles by the tub, or even the old empty perfume bottles by the mirror.

but as you reach the door frame, it looks clean, it smells clean.

peter was smiling like an idiot with a lemon air freshener in his hands.

"you cleaned my bathroom?" you question, cleaning the bathroom is something you've always avoided or waited til' last, since like, forever. you weren't gross or lazy, you just hated every bit of it.

"yeah. you were busy, and i remembered that you said you hated doing it so i figured, why not do it you know? plus this air freshener was on sale and it smelled great." he explains.

"and the flowers by your sink were wilting, so i got you new ones." he added, you look towards the vase as it was already replaced with new ones.

"they're fake though, sorry." he pouts. "i just think you deserve flowers that'll last forever. or if you want i can buy real ones and i'll take care of it from time to time." peter awkwardly smiles.

you rush towards peter for a hug.

"you're the best peter, really." you squeeze him. "anything for my, ladybug."

[deakyjoe]

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 11

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Feelings are finally revealed in the face of mortal danger. Some good, some bad.

Warnings: British terminology/slang, strong language, injury detail, war/death, mask is off and on, angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, sexual references

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: This took me two weeks to write. For a not very long chapter. Also, I hate it. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Things became complicated. More so than they already were. The range of emotions you were feeling was making life difficult. You couldn't concentrate. The most simple of tasks were becoming far more complex than they ever should be because your mind was focusing on one particular subject.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley.

He'd ruined you. Ruined your life. Ruined everything.

It didn't help that he knew it either.

"You still haven't forgiven me yet, have you?" He uttered one evening after you'd spent the last hour or two trying to forget everything that had happened through the simple will of human touch and physical affection.

Your voice was soft when you replied, almost reluctant but not quite. "No."

"Okay." He was beginning to become more accepting of the situation. Maybe finally realising that what he'd done was not just bad. But terrible. Morally awful. No matter his initial intentions.

In short, he was starting to feel guilty. Really guilty. And not just about being caught. But he didn't quite know how to express this to you. And whilst you could see that he was becoming more understanding and could appreciate that, his inability to actually show this to you or even say it meant that forgiveness was not quite ready to be dished out.

You stayed rather quiet around him now, often silent. Never rambling like you used to. He missed the incessant chatter constantly spilling out of your mouth. Sometimes he'd walk into a room with you in it, and you'd be talking to Soap or Gaz, and spouting words like there was no tomorrow. But you hushed yourself as soon as his presence was detected. It was like you were uncomfortable speaking around him now, as if you didn't want him to know more than what was absolutely necessary about you. He knew why and he hated it.

And he didn't miss the way you avoided looking at him whenever he had the mask on. That would've been fine, many people didn't like looking at him with it on as they tended to find it intimidating, but whenever it was off you always made a point of making eye contact. The most burning, piercing eye contact of his life. And he knew why you did it. You were looking at Simon, not Ghost, Simon. He hated that too.

But it prompted another question out of him another day. "You love Simon?"

The question was odd but you understood why it was being asked, your eyes opening blearily as you answered. "Yes."

"Not Ghost?" He pushed.

"You're..." You hesitated and sighed, face scrunching in thought. "You're one in the same to me. Almost. But I fell in love with Simon first."

A startling realisation hit him. "But I don't even know who Simon is."

You mumbled something under your breath and looked at him, his glazed over eyes and forehead slicked with sweat matching yours. "Then maybe figure it out before you ask me for forgiveness."

It was biting, a low blow even, but he knew why you said it. And he thought you had a point. He hated that you had a point. Simon Riley was used to being right, always having the upper hand in situations because most of the time he knew he was correct. This privilege did not extend to you. Why? Because you were always more right than he was. And it was made worse by the fact that you were good. Morally good and just... good in general. Simon knew he couldn't fight you, especially now, because he knew that you were right and good. Meaning the situation was entirely in your hands. All he could do was await forgiveness, if you ever even decided to bless him with it.

So, even though you seemed to be spending countless hours with each other whenever you could spare the time, it felt as if the two of you hadn't really hung out properly in a while and bonded. They were just more stolen moments in his office and sometimes supply cupboards. Nothing with substance. You were trying to keep your distance as much as possible so he could figure himself out, a few weak moments of needed pleasure from him thrown in here and there, and he was trying to keep his distance to allow you the time to calm down from what he'd done whilst he collected his thoughts to grant you a proper apology, taking the random opportunities for closeness when you offered them his way.

The main problem with this though was that neither of you were succeeding in what you were supposed to be doing. Simon wasn't managing to collect his thoughts in any coherent manner in order to extend an apology and you were not calming down after the effects of his weird behaviour. As much as you wanted to forgive him for purely selfish reasons, it just was not as easy as you hoped it would be. Turns out you had more self-respect for yourself than previously estimated. 

It was obvious to outside eyes, other than Ghost's, that the turmoil raging inside of you was taking over your mind. Even if you didn’t want it to.

Soap found you one day in the rec room, stretched out across a chair with headphones over your ears and a pout on your lips. "Are you alright, hen? What's with the sad face?"

You'd just managed to hear him over the music and had ripped the headphones from your head and looked up at him with wide eyes. "ABBA are taunting me."

His eyebrows had scrunched in confusion but an amused smirk had curled the corners of his lips. "ABBA?"

"ABBA." You reiterated, slightly more deadpan and serious now.

Soap sat down on the arm of the chair and looked over your shoulder. "What song are you listening to?"

"SOS." You sighed and pouted again, thinking of the lyrics.

"Oh... here, let me just-" He picked up your phone and started scrolling through the playlist.

"If you play Chiquitita I am going to cut your dick off and feed it to you." You snapped, completely sincere with the threat.

He dropped your phone and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, forget it then."

You groaned and stood from the chair, extending your arms above your head. "I'm sorry. Just in a bad mood recently."

"I have noticed. But it's okay. I know things have been bad with Ghost." Soap watched you walk towards the fridge, pausing for a split second at the mention of your lieutenant. That made him smile slightly.

"He's really fucked me over, y'know?" You called back over your shoulder, ignoring whatever quip he bit back with.

And when you opened the fridge door, you were greeted by a sight that both horrified and amazed you. Stacks and stacks of apple juice. Bottles of it, cartons of it, even cans of it. There was no mistaking that this was Simon's doing. Some strange, little way of apologising and proving something to you. It was unclear in your heart whether it was endearing or irritating. Maybe it was just both.

You exhaled heavily and grabbed one of the bottles, recognising it as somehow being one from the farmers' market. How he'd managed to get it out here, you had no idea. But you guessed he had his ways.

"He's fucking crazy." You turned back to look at Soap who was failing to suppress the grin on his face. "What? What are you smiling about?"

"Gifts. It's a love language."

"Oh, fuck off, MacTavish." You scoffed and threw the bottle at him where he barely managed to catch it. "Do you think I should say something to him?"

"Depends how much you want to make him pay, hen."

"I'll keep quiet about it for now." You decided. It's not like you were taunting Ghost, which is what Soap thought you were doing as a way to torture him, you were just extending the punishment into what you thought was fit. It would be over once you truly belived he'd paid for what he did wrong and had apologised profusely. Honestly, a small part of you wanted to see how far he'd go to achieve forgiveness. To see how much you were really worth to him.

But then he had to go and fuck up that plan by walking into the room just as you were grabbing another bottle of apple juice for yourself.

The two of you stood still on opposite sides of the room, like deer frozen in headlights, with Soap right in the middle ready to be mediator if necessary but mostly just waiting to see how this would play out.

One of the downsides of the mask, that he insisted on wearing, was that you couldn't easily read Simon. There were no visible facial expressions. Only what he gave away with his eyes and the little skin you could see around his eyes. And now he was too far away to see properly. So you had to gauge this on his body language alone. He was stiff and unmoving, that much was clear. But that was typical Ghost.

You raised the apple juice bottle in the air awkwardly. "This was you?"

You knew it was. And he knew you knew. So he only nodded in response.

"Thank you." You pushed out, ignoring Soap's stifled giggles. "This- this is nice of you."

He shrugged. "You're welcome, Sarge."

You'd given up on reprimanding him about the nickname. It wasn't like he planned on giving it up anytime soon no matter how much you told him to stop calling you that. Besides, it seemed like everyone on the base appeared to have at least some fraction of an idea about what was happening between the two of you even if they didn't have the full story. You blamed word of mouth and two gossips whose names would not be mentioned.

Nothing else was said after that. Simon made himself a cup of tea and silently left the room, avoiding you very obviously staring at him as he went.

"I don't know what to do." You confessed to Soap once you were convinced that Ghost was very much out of earshot.

"I don't think he does either." Your Scottish friend added with a head tilt in the direction of where your lieutenant just went.

"I so badly want to forgive him but just... can't. And I don't know how to explain how I'm feeling." You confessed, burying your face into your hands.

"Talk it out with him."

"It might surprise you to hear this, but he's not much of a talker." You snorted, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes so hard that you saw stars.

"Okay, so you talk and he listens. Then he begs for you to take him back. Easy." Soap suggested and poked you in the centre of your forehead to emphasise his point.

As you slapped his hand away with a roll of your eyes, you realised that maybe he had a point. And a good point at that. You could talk. Simon was always saying how much you loved to talk and how you could talk enough for the both of you, able to keep a conversation going without anyone else saying a word. Filling in the blanks and awkward silences was your strong suit. So, yeah. You could talk at him and have him listen until you were done and ready to let him beg for forgiveness. That was doable. So that's what you would do. Now, only to suggest the idea to the man himself...

It only took a couple of days, well actually almost a week, before you mustered up the courage to broach the subject with him. It happened after a briefing for your next mission which you barely paid attention to, as usual, and Ghost appeared very shocked that you were choosing to talk to him as you dragged him into an empty room where he immediately removed his mask.

"I have something to say and I need you to keep quiet until I'm done, okay?" You asked and he nodded simply. "I don't even know why I'm asking. I know you're very good at keeping quiet. It's one of your many skills actually. Anyway..."

Knocking yourself back into your original thought process, you failed to notice the smirk that Simon was sending you over your inability to stay on track and not stray away on tangents. He loved you so much. And all the little things that made you you.

"We need to figure this out because not knowing how I'm feeling about you is killing me. Yes, I'm in love with you but I also hate you right now and I don't know what to do about it. So we need to talk. Properly. You need to explain everything to me completely truthfully and then I'll consider forgiving you. And I need to attempt to express my emotions so you can grasp some understanding of it all. Does that sound fair?" You asked, breathless after rambling for too long.

He nodded again. "It does."

"Great. So stay alive."

He looked perplexed. "What?"

"We're doing it after this mission. I need you alive for this. So stay alive." You waved your hand around as if it were obvious.

"Sarge, I-" He cut himself off when he saw the genuine look of concern on your features.

"I might not pay attention in briefings but even I could tell Price was nervous. Like... like we're not all expected to make it back. More than usual." You paused. "This conversation and my potential forgiveness are incentives to keep you alive."

Simon wanted to kiss you. "Alright."

"And- and I don't want you dead."

Simon could double kiss you. "Got it. Don't want you dead either."

"If you die then I'll have to bring you back just to kill you. So no selfish heroic moves, alright?" You pointed a finger at him, completely serious.

He tried to hide the smile that was threatening to crack his face. He was getting his Sarge back and, as much as you didn't want to allow that to happen, it could not be denied any longer.

"I'm not much of a hero, Sarge. So I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement about this."

You scoffed at him, willing to play into his game. "Maybe that's what you think. But I don't need you sacrificing yourself just because you think you're not worth saving when we've finally decided to talk this all out. I won't let you get out of it that easily."

"Ah, you see right through me." He raised his hands in mock surrender, waving the metaphorical white flag as he gave in to your suggestions. You were right, as usual, afterall. "Okay, fine. No dying and we'll talk afterwards. Or you'll talk and I'll do some listening and maybe a little begging."

"A lot of begging. I want you on your knees demanding forgiveness out of me. I won't settle for any less."

"I've been on my knees for you before." He observed, thinking back on scenarios in your flat when the two of you didn't quite make it to your bedroom. And times when you did. "I'm sure I could do it again."

"Oh, haha. Very funny, Riley." You added sarcastically, knowing exactly what he was remembering. The ideas made heat rush to the surface of your skin. "I'm not joking. I want a genuine conversation."

"I know, Sarge." Simon sighed. "And I'm very willing to give it to you. More than you could possibly know."

That shocked you. "Fine. Good. Great, even. Then... then we'll do that."

"Looking forward to it."

But, of course, he had to break that simple promise.

"Simon!" Your voice echoed around the room, loud but still distant, and he ignored it. He couldn't drag you into this, couldn't risk you too.

In short, he'd been shot. A couple of times actually. And he was on the floor bleeding out and willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of the rest of the team. He was doing exactly what you'd asked him not to. He believed that if he ignored you for long enough then you'd give up and go away, leave him to die in peace with the hope that you would have forgiven him if things had gone differently.

But unfortunately for him you were persistent, he'd argue stubborn, and you weren't giving up until you found him. Which you did quicker than he anticipated. When you stumbled into the room, you were relieved to find him still conscious but curled up against a wall in obvious pain.

"Aw shit, Simon..." You rushed over to him and collapsed by his side, pressing one hand into the wound on his leg and the other hand over the one on his stomach. "What did you do this for?"

"I didn't get shot on purpose." He argued back, knowing exactly what you really meant.

"Simon..." The blood spilling from between your fingers was worrying. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, that's why I'm sitting here." He huffed back, dry humour still intact, and winced when the action made the damaged flesh stretch in an uncomfortable manner. "Listen, Sarge-"

"Nuh uh, not now." You shook your head at him, voice dropping into a warning tone. "We need to get you out of here first."

"And I'm trying to tell you that I don't think that's happening." He wheezed as more blood poured from him and his vision blurred slightly.

"You promised me a conversation and a proper apology, Simon Swayze. Didn't you?"

He smiled at the nickname. "I did. And I'm sorry to be breaking that promise."

"You're not. Because I'm getting you out of here even if I have to carry your six foot four butt out of here myself." You hooked an arm around his torso and used your legs to plant yourself firmly on the floor to drag the two of you up. Somehow, with a great deal of determination and adrenaline, you managed to get the both of you in a standing position where you immediately rested against the wall to gain a proper sense of balance. You couldn't lose him, not now. Not when you were so close to fixing everything.

"You're strong, Sarge." The words were slurred as the blood loss was making Ghost minutely delirious.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Now let's go." Steeling your body for his weight, you pushed off the wall and started forward through the rubble.

He didn't pay much attention to where you were going. It wasn't like he could give much input into whether or not you were going in the correct direction as he was quickly losing comprehension of the situation.

"Sarge...?" He mumbled next to you, head drooping to awkwardly lean against yours.

"Yes...?" You mimicked his tone in the hopes of brightening the situation. But it was going to take a lot more than that to actually succeed in doing so.

"Love... you..."

You let out a sudden laugh, short and snappy. "What a fantastic fucking place for a love confession. So fucking romantic, Lieutenant Riley. Really. You've outdone yourself."

"Sorry." 

The apology was mumbled, but genuine. You knew he couldn't help it. Serious blood loss and shock from injuries could really make you say the craziest of things. It just would've been nice if the first proper time he told you he loved you was not where either of you could die at any second.

"It's okay, Simon." You offered back, meaning it truthfully, as you adjusted your grip on him and dragged him along.

You ignored the burn in your own legs from carrying the weight of two and navigated your way through the building. Gunfire echoed in your ears as you weaved your way through the corridors, feeling a pinch or two as maybe a couple of bullets grazed you. But you couldn't focus on that. You could only focus on getting you and Ghost to safety, mostly Ghost. He was more important than you in this scenario, in all scenarios really. At least, he was most important to you no matter what. No matter the fuck ups, no matter the trials and tribulations that he caused and therefore put you both through. As much as you hated to admit it due to what he'd done, you needed to hear him out and let the apologies be accepted as he was important to you. You loved him too fucking much to suddenly lose him now.

And when you cleared the building, and heard someone scream your names, you allowed yourself to collapse to the floor after depositing Simon onto another pair of shoulders and fade into the blackness as blood slowly seeped out from the several bullet wounds you had been blissfully ignoring. He was safe. That’s all that mattered.

A/N: There should only be one more chapter and then the epilogue after this :)

[beansidhebumbling]

Any chance of a Nesta x Eris drabble?

Let me know what to think. As tends to be the case I lost control of the length.

Warning!: smut

Patience and Other Vices

His hand glances over hers at dinner.

It's an accident. She's been so studious in her avoidance of his gaze, his presence, the mere mention of his name since the announcement. Tonight and this brief touch are just another in the long list of regrets he surely ties to her name.

He reaches for the pitcher of water just as she does and their fingers brush.

He has the hands of a pianist, dexterous, elongated, agile when they play on the keys, when they play with her.

And how he played her.

***

Their eyes catch.

He's thinking of that night too.

She knows as his eyebrows furrow, light colour tinting high cheekbones, left hand clenching his fork in a death grip as his right lingers- outstretched and alone.

If he is striking in sunlight, he is devastating in candlelight, the sharp cut of his jaw and his glare cast shadows, even as the rich red tones of his hair burn and flicker under the gentle wavering glow of the candelabra.

***

Long fingers pump inside her in a rhythm she chases but cannot catch as her head falls back on the rich navy velvet shoulder of his tailcoat.

'Please... God in heaven please.'

Gasping and breathy, a more sincere prayer than any she has ever offered on a Sunday.

He lets out a low chuckle.

'That's not my name, sweetest. Plead to me, look only to me or I may take note from your God and be very cruel indeed.'

And when he stops the infernal masterful movement, she finds herself possessed, for that is the only reason Nesta would be compelled to beg him.

The plaintive cry that leaves is a sound foreign to her ears,

'Please my Lord. Do not stop or I may die and take my spot in Hell alongside you.'

She squirms in his lap, attempting to create her own friction. Her cunt, as he calls it, as he taught her, is stretched and hot over his blasted unmoving fingers.

Cunt.

The word looks blunt and crude on paper, in the secret letters sends. But when said by him it sounds more like treasure, more like covet. The word dripping in awe and adoration.

She is full in a way she never achieves with her own tender nocturnal explorations. He taught her this too, the importance of self-exploration, coaxing her to find herself in the wet messy flush of carnal pleasure.

He pinches her right nipple with his free hand, brief and chastising.

'This is a lesson in patience Nesta. You are learning to wait for me.'

Another mean twist, this time to her left nipple.

'And you still haven't said my name.'

'Eris.

Eris.

Eris.'

Each gasp is breathier than the last. She loves the familiar shape of his name, how it falls from her tongue.

A confession no deity could pry from her.

'Good girl.'

The dance of his fingers inside her continues once more.

A reward.

And she thinks maybe he needs no confession when her loud moan at his praise is a sure equivalent.

'Look at you. Beautiful and bared like Venus for me.'

He pulls her hair so she is once more looking in the mirror at the wanton naked figure that is splayed across the Duke of Vanserra's clothed form.

His fine leather boots still gleam under moonlight.

He reduces her to this wild, unkempt thing. Hair undone, blood rising to her cheeks, her chest, eyes glazed and starry.

But if it is a reduction why does she feel like so much more when held in his arms?

She comes apart with the practiced thrum of his thumb on her button, his name the only chant she knows as her mind whirls and galaxies fall apart and come together again behind her eyes.

She sees love in the kisses he presses on her collarbone, in the gentle pass of a washcloth along her centre and thighs, in the delicate way he redresses her in her nightwear before sneaking out the window, a thief in the night, her heart buried between his and navy velvet.

***

She is patient.

Patient when his nightime visits and secret letters stop suddenly.

Patient in her rejection of those who come to call, to plead for the privilege of a promenade.

Nesta Archeron, the diamond of the town, is patient a full week until word of his engagement to Lady Morrigan Velaris reaches the breakfast table, gossip spilled between tea sips and flaky pastry. A most advantageous match. Very likely to be the wedding of the season.

When Nesta retires with a migraine she goes unnoticed. Her tears, salty and unceasing, flow onto her pillow, heartbreak and rage released like a river, like a flood.

The smell of pine and leather and tobacco lingers even now.

She burns her bedsheets.

***

She is no longer patient.

The deluge of letters returns, multiple daily, even when he doesn't dare show his face.

Unread they join the ash of her bed linen in the grate.

And when Lord Cassian, still a little too loud, a little too slow, brings her flowers, yellow roses with no hidden messages, she accepts them with a smile.

He never makes her feel more, but he never makes her feel less.

Her engagement is announced the same day the dissolution of Eris' is published in the gossip sheet.

***

She sees him at church.

Gaunt and sickly, stress marked in the crease of his forehead, the anguish of his gaze.

The burn of his stare does not relent through the sermon and she wonders if this is her damnation.

Because despite it all she longs to smooth the wrinkle of his forehead, hear the low timbre of his voice.

***

He attempts to knock on the balcony of her room that night.

When she wakes the house with screams about intruders he does not try again.

***

She should have guessed he'd somehow finangle a way to Lord Cassian's dinner.

She thought it safe considering the still smoking wreckage of his dalliance with Morrigan.

She underestimated his cunning and unflappable shamelesness as he bats off Lord Rhysand's increasingly cutting remarks about failed nuptials with all the ease of breathing.

When the men depart into the smoking room she seizes her chance to catch a breath in the conservatory.

He finds her.

Of course.

***

She is alone all of thirty seconds before she hears the urgent clap of boots on the tiled floor.

He confronts her by the orange tree, his eyes frantic and jaw tight.

'Nesta.'

Her name sounds like a prayer.

Her response stops his urgent pace towards her.

'My Lord, I'd advise you to return to the party before you are missed and warn you against using my name with such impropriety in future.'

Her tone is clipped, words measured, as her heart bleeds within its cavity.

'I...'.

A speechless Eris Vanserra is a new sight to her.

She takes her chance at escape, dipping so shallowly it hardly bears the definition of a curtsey, she begins to walk away, heading towards the ruckus of laughter and chatter.

A thud causes her to turn, skirts twisting around her frame with the sudden movement.

He kneels, shoulders hunched and face bent to the floor.

'Nes-my darling. I beg of you, have mercy and stab me before you once more deprive me of the honour of company.'

'My Lord, cease the melodramatics and rise this instant.'

She snaps.

'Anyone could walk in, you fool.'

He huffs a strangled laugh, maimed with pain.

'I'm a fool you're talking to, my love. Beter shade a fool than every other colour I've been'

He looks at her then and God save her he's crying.

How dare he?

The fury that churns within her is only matched by the sorrow that threatens to expose itself in the faultlines of her masked expression.

'Get up Eris. This is a misery of your own design. You used me and discarded me. I will put up with no further humiliation.'

The light that sparks in his eyes when she uses his name dies quickly as the proceeding words hit him like blows. He flinches but still holds her gaze, like he fears she may disappear if he blinks.

A valid fear to hold.

'Did you.. did you read even one of my letters, my Lady?'

She arches an eyebrow, disdainful at the question and her premature rise in rank. It's answer enough.

His next words are rushed, fearful she'll leave before he finishes she imagines. That is her plan but she finds her feet glued to the spot as he continues, tripping over words, voice shaky.

'It was an arrangement by my thrice-cursed father, still haunting me beyond the grave. I asked you to be patient while I tried to sort it discretely. I thought you'd never have to know, to worry. Rhysand forced my hand and I was engaged and by the time I escaped it you were ...'

He gulps, shaking his head, long hair moving like silk, like he is trying to dispel the reality.

'I...I kick myself for not telling you before. It haunts me, every missed opportunity to propose to you, to do it the messy way, cleverness be damned. I'll die sick and bitter that I squandered my chance to be yours. But I cannot have you ignore me like this anymore.'

He stands then. Makes his way towards her, pulling her hands, that must have clasped around her mouth at some point, towards him, grasping them like they hold his salvation.

'I will be whoever you want me to be, Nesta. I have proposed marriage, friendship, acquaintance in my letters, poured my soul to you in pretty words, calculated and considered to try and redeem myself. I am unprepared while struck stupid in your presence. I only have these clumsy pleas but do not question their sincerity when since the moment I've met you I've loved you. Since your first barbed comment my heart has been yours. I will be anything but do not make me a stranger. Grant me this, I beg. I will kneel if you wish. I would risk it all to have you look at me softly once again.'

Her heart escapes between the faultlines as a tear falls down her face.

His right hand reaches, outstretched and alone, hovering, shaking by her face.

She turns her head to kiss his palm.

She feels his pulse beneath her lips.

Patience is recovered in quiet citrus-scented air.

[whumpbug]

guys. guys this fic is a DOOZY. over 4k words total.

no one asked for it, no one requested it, but it literally came to me in a dream and i had to write it. this is really a rough draft and i haven't checked it over too much.... @whump-kia i hope the ending of this will suffice for your forehead kiss prompt (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

i hope you all enjoy it because i had such a good time brainstorming it, even if my writng was a bit stale at points...... BUT WHATEVER

(not necessary to read but here is character info as well as backstory that kinda shows up in the fic)

whumpee: Archie

caretaker: Simon

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was Simon’s finals week.

Archie knew this. He’d known for a while; Simon kept bringing it up in passing, quietly grumbling about his upcoming “week from hell”. All he talked about was how much he had to do.

But Archie knew what he was getting at. He knew what he really wanted to say.

I’m going to be busy. Don’t bother me. Leave me alone.

Well, Simon wouldn’t say it like that. Still, Archie got the message and he intended to respect his friend’s wishes.

He couldn’t blame him either. Having to spend all your free time suturing and cleaning up blood and setting broken bones had to get exhausting, even for someone as patient as Simon. Simon deserved at least the week-long break, if not more, of being free from dealing with Archie’s messes. 

All things considered, he had actually been doing pretty well without Simon’s intervention. The only real injuries he’d gotten during patrol were some nasty bruises that he viciously iced whenever he managed to drag himself back to his own apartment.

Now, he was on his 5th consecutive day of patrol, and his 5th consecutive day of leaving Simon alone.

...And he missed him.

But he made a promise, both to Simon and to himself, that he wasn’t going to burden him. He was going to follow through.

He crouched from his place on the rooftops, scanning the streets below him. It had been a pretty quiet night, which meant it had been a boring night. He was idly tossing a piece of brick up and down when he finally heard some commotion coming from below him.

There was a shout, a crash, and a figure booking it from the little store on the block, arms filled with goods.

Nice try.

Archie easily scaled down the wall and landed on the pavement, catching up to the thief almost immediately. A well-placed kick to the back of the knees caused the guy to go sprawling forward, and all the things he stole to scatter in front of him.

He let out a small grunt and slowly, painstakingly picked himself back up.

Upon looking closer, Archie could now see that the thief was.. a kid. he couldn't have been more than 14.

The kid scrambled away from Archie as fast as he could, turning to face him with a small pocket knife in his hand. The thing was rusty and chipped and trembled as he held it.

“S-Stay back..” The kid rasped. “You’re that vigilante f-from the papers, aren’t you..”

Now that Archie was really looking, he could see what he had been trying to steal in the first place. Littered on the sidewalk was some children’s ibuprofen, tissue packets, water bottles and a small can of chicken soup.

Archie met the kid’s eyes and saw that they were glazed over and unfocused. There was a flush on his cheekbones, one that Archie was all to familiar with. He frowned.

“Yeah, I am. What’s all this? You’re a little young to be stealing from convenience stores,” He said softly. "What's going on."

“You.. you don't get it.. you’re just going to send me to the police station..” The boy mumbled, scooting back slightly as if he was going to bolt at any second.

Archie fought the urge to laugh. Of course he would get it. It felt like looking into a mirror, a reflection of his own childhood.

He sighed.

“I won’t. Not until I hear you out, at least.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, really considering it before speaking

“..It’s my sister. She’s really sick. Haven’t seen my mom in days and.. we don’t have money for the medicine.”

Archie bit his lip. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard a story like that. He lived it for a good amount of time, after all. If anyone understood the kid, it was him. He gave him another once over.

“And what about you? You don’t look too good either, bud.”

“I’m fine,” He said quickly. “I just wanted to get stuff for my sister. She’s six. She needs it more than I do.”

Archie ran a hand through his hair in thought. There was no way in hell he was turning this kid in, even if he technically did do something wrong.

An idea suddenly dawned on him.

“Okay. How about this? If you promise to stay here, I’ll go in and pay for all of this to get you off the hook. Then, I’ll go with you to get your sister and I’ll take you both to a clinic.”

The boy thought for a moment, almost considering it, but then his face fell. “No. We can’t afford medicine, what makes you think we can afford a doctor?”

Archie smiled. “No. It’s a free clinic. My friend has been helping organize it. They’ll look after you and your sister, no questions asked and no payment needed.”

Archie watched the kid mull it over. He figured he might be hesitant. The kid had no reason to trust this vigilante except for what he heard on the street.

On the other hand, he looked tired. Archie hoped he let someone take the burden of his stress, just for a little bit.

The boy almost looked like he wanted to argue again, but he was suddenly overtaken by a coughing fit. Archie furrowed his brows and gently patted his back.

“Fine,” The kid wheezed. “I’ll.. we’ll go to your clinic.”

Archie smiled and nodded.

Smoothing things over with the store clerk was easy enough, since Archie was a regular. All it took was some small talk and a decent tip to make the owner forget about his little delinquent situation.

When Archie came back out to the street, the boy was dozing, knees pulled to his chest with his knife clutched in his hand. He could see the flush of his cheeks peeking over his arm. Archie felt his heart clench. 

It reminded him far too much of his own battles with illness while living on the streets. He’d never forget the feeling of falling asleep on the sidewalk, not even able to rest fully lest your guard comes down. It disheartened him to see it still happening.

He slowly approached the kid, trying to give him enough time to notice, but it didn’t stop the kid from startling awake and launching his knife toward Archie.

Archie caught his wrist easily, and gently pulled it down.

“Sorry..” The boy mumbled, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s okay. Let’s go get your sister, yeah?”

Archie offered to carry the kid. He could see he was flagging. He was clearly more sick than he was letting on, and Archie didn’t want to see him get worse. Still, he refused vehemently, and led Archie to his dingy apartment.

On the way to the clinic, Archie ended up carrying both the sister, and the boy.

Once they were situated with one of the volunteer nurses, Archie thanked her profusely and began making his way home. The night seemed to be staying pretty quiet, and he figured he could afford an extra hour of sleep.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of his apartment, the exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. He barely pulled off his shoes and half-unzipped his jumpsuit before he was falling bonelessly on his sofa and letting the world fall away.

••••

When Archie first woke up, it had just been a tickle in his throat.

He chalked it up to dehydration. He woke up as if emerging from a coma. Dried drool stained his chin, he was sporting a severe bedhead and every muscle in his body ached. He groggily wondered if Simon was getting enough sleep. He hoped so.

He peeled himself off of the couch, groaning at the feeling of his joints creaking as he got up.

As the grogginess cleared away, he went over the things he had to do today in his mind. He had two classes, his first one starting in only half an hour. Alright. Plenty of time.

He briskly showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and packed his bag for school. The tickle in his throat had transformed into more of an ache, but he didn’t think much of it. It was probably just the dry air.

He grabbed his keys and left.

His first class went by in a blur. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like time was moving as if through molasses. He’d swear an hour had passed, and look up to see it's been barely fifteen minutes. It was torture.

To make things worse, the ache from before had progressed into the need to keep clearing his throat, which, in a silent lecture hall, was the last thing he wanted.

He had given up on taking notes, opting to focus on making the least amount of noise possible. He kept his water bottle close by.

He felt distracted. He kept thinking about that boy from the previous night. He really didn't look good. He hopes the volunteer nurses were able to take good care of him.

When the class was finally over, Archie all but sprinted out of the room only to double over with a coughing fit that shook his entire body.

Huh. That's weird. Wasn't coughing like this earlier.

He stayed hunched over in the hallway for a few minutes more to catch his breath before straightening and heading to the library to work on some of his assignments until his next class.

As soon as he was sitting down in the squashy chair by the window, though, he conked out before he could even open his laptop.

 ••••

He awoke with a jolt, feeling his heart sink when he realized the sun was no longer streaming through the large window. Instead, he could see his reflection in the dark from outside.

He slept through his class.

“No.. no no no no..” He whined, looking around frantically. No one was around. People must be getting ready to head home. He whipped out his phone.

He’d fallen asleep at 3pm.

It was 8:30.

He ran a hand over his face, silently panicking. He didn't know what to do. This had never happened to him before, he'd never slept that long in public before.  

In the end, he had to accept it. There was nothing really to do. He packed his things and shamefully began making his way back home.

His throat had gotten worse, now coupled with an odd chill throughout his body and a heavy feeling in his chest. He felt somehow even more tired than before, despite his accidental five hour nap.

He was dragging his feet as he walked along the sidewalk. His head pulsed a bit. Once again, when he entered his cold, empty apartment, he felt the overwhelming pull of exhaustion threaten to drag him under.

He ignored it. His day wasn’t done yet.

He zipped on his Vigil jumpsuit and splashed some cold water on his face, trying to eke some kind of life back into his complexion. God, he was so tired. He chalked it up to still feeling groggy from his nap, and put on his brave face before heading out into the night.

His first stop was to deliver groceries to the little old lady that lived just a few floors down from him. He’d never typically interact with someone so openly as both Archie and Vigil, but she had bad vision and dementia, so he figured she was safe. She needed the help too, and he was more than happy to provide.

When he unloaded the groceries and helping her put them away, she ended up kissing his cheek and calling him the name of her son. He didn’t have it in him to tell her the truth, instead just smiling and telling her he'd be back next week.

On his way out, his breath hitched and he erupted into another coughing fit. He had to hold on to the railing as the force of the coughs nearly brought him to his knees.

He gasped for air as soon as it was over, head spinning. He soldiered on.

Next, he had to help unload some boxes for the old man named Chuy who owned the Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. Chuy would never ask for help, but he had thrown his back out twice in the same month, so Archie couldn't just leave him to deal with it on his own.

He had to be subtle about it.

He chatted with Chuy while he ordered some tacos de asada to go, and while he was distracted, he was already lifting the boxes into the storage room for him. He was silently grateful for Simon’s mini Spanish lessons, as he was able to hold the conversation for a bit longer this time.

When he was done, Chuy clapped him on the back, thanking him as he sent him on his way with a few extra tacos on the house.

For some reason, Archie couldn’t seem to stomach the thought of eating anything. He ended up passing them off to a random bystander, and heading to his next and last scheduled destination. He needed to check on that kid.

Again, it had been another quiet night. Archie was silently grateful. Usually, between his little excursions as Vigil, he would have to stop to break up a fight or reprimand a mugger, but the streets seemed as sleepy tonight as he was.

And boy was he tired. He was starting to wish he slept longer in the library, because his nap had seemed to do nothing for him. Not to mention that the heaviness in his chest had only gotten worse and his bouts of coughing more frequent.

He also felt even more chilled than before. His skin was overly sensitive, and even the fabric of his jumpsuit was beginning to irritate it. He sighed.

Simon would know what to do.

His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with the coughing.

He snapped himself back to the present when he realized he’d finally reached the clinic. Alright. Final errand, then you can go home and crash. You don’t need Simon to help you. You can handle this.

He puffed out his chest a bit and approached the woman standing at the front counter.

“Oh! It’s you! You're the one who brought in those siblings last night, yes?” She chirped, taking him by the elbow and leading him inside.

“Mhm! That was me!” He beamed. " I just came to check up on them and see how they were doing, especially that boy."

The woman paused. She pursed her lips.

“..His sister is fine. She just had a bit of a fever, but nothing a little ibuprofen couldn't fix. As for the boy.. well, you’d better follow me.”

Archie felt his heart drop to his stomach. Had he done something wrong? Had he been too late?

The woman led him to one of the curtained-off rooms of the clinic and quietly pulled it open.

Archie let out a tiny gasp.

The boy was lying in the cot, completely limp. He was pale and sweaty and his eyebrows were pinched together in fitful consciousness.

The most alarming part, however, was the ventilator he was strapped to.

“It started as your typical flu,” The woman began. “Much like his sister’s. We're assuming that because he didn't get enough rest when he needed it, it quickly turned into pneumonia. He’s been in and out of sleep for a few hours now.”

Archie walked forward in a daze, sinking into the chair beside the boy. He took his hand. 

“Is he..um..” The words went unsaid.

“He’s going to be alright. We managed to catch it before he became even more serious, thanks to your intervention. He and his sister are tough. They’ll pull through.”

Archie released a breath, stifling a cough into his shoulder.

“That’s.. okay, that’s good,” He whispered, giving the boys hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be back to check on them soon.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them you stopped by. You have a good night, okay?"

Archie smiled and nodded.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of small talk and random tasks. For some reason, Archie couldn’t seem to focus. He found himself zoning out during conversations and, of course, apologizing profusely. When he finally decided to throw in the towel and head home, it was close to midnight.

God, he couldn’t wait to be home.

He passed by Simon’s apartment on his way back. Any thoughts of meeting him were quickly abandoned when he saw that the light was out in his window. He must be getting some sleep. Archie smiled at the thought of Simon resting after a long day of studying.

He really couldn’t wait to see him again.

He finally made it to his building and staggered up the stairs. At the top, he felt another tickle in his lungs that had him holding on to the railing as his body jolted with every harsh cough. It felt like his lungs had weights in them. He clawed at his chest.

He pushed open the door to his apartment, hardly even bothering to lock it behind him before he was hunched with another round of coughing. The ache in his throat had quickly become searing pain, and the chills he felt earlier had become full-blown bodily shivers. His knees buckled. He was still coughing.

He thought about Simon again. He knew he should call him, but he just didn’t have it in him. He couldn’t be a burden, he just couldn’t.

The coughing finally let up. Archie panted for air. 

He managed to crawl to the couch, every inch of his body just craving sleep. He hauled himself up and collapsed listlessly.

He didn’t even have the energy to unzip his jumpsuit or remove his shoes before he was already falling into a restless sleep.

 ••••

Archie was back in the alley.

Everything was the same, but he looked down at himself and realized that he wasn’t. He was bigger now. Older. The dealers didn’t seem to notice him.

He took an experimental step forward. 

Suddenly, they turned their gaze to his left, grinning. He blinked and he was in Simon’s apartment. He didn't remember this.

Archie followed the men’s gazes and-- oh.

Oh no.

Simon stood there, back turned and somehow unaware of what was happening. The men began to approach him with the needle. The same needle that hurt Archie all those years ago. The same needle that made him the monster he is today. He felt the panic bubble up in his chest, coming out in violent, painful gasps.

“Simon! Simon, run away! Please Simon, run!” He said, but his words died on his lips. He was paralyzed. There was nothing he could do. 

••••

Archie awoke with a start, the force of his coughing launching him up to sitting. He gasped for air, scrambling to his feet. He was already out the door before he was even breathing properly.

He needed to get to Simon. He couldn’t let those men hurt him, not like they did him. He needed save him.

He was staggering down the street. All he could hear was the pounding of his own head and the stomping of his feet on the pavement. His body was moving in autopilot. 

He had to stop and lean against a wall to cough again. He was left panting. Part of him just wanted to give up and collapse then and there. He was so tired. Everything felt wrong and he was having trouble even walking in a straight line.

But he couldn’t give up on Simon.

He pushed forward.

When he finally began the arduous climb up the steps of Simon’s building, black dots appeared in his vision. He was wheezing.

He lifted a hand to knock on Simon’s door, but found that it was too weak to produce a sound. He let it fall back down to his side as his knees gave out.

He coughed, but it turned into another gasp. He couldn’t breathe.

Tears welled in his eyes. He was too late. He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save him, just like he couldn’t save himself.

He clawed at the door as he clung to his last strand of consciousness.

••••

Simon was startled awake by the sound of someone clambering up the stairs to his floor, and immediately went on the defensive. He sprung out of bed, snatching up the bat he kept near his bed and stomping right up to his door, yanking it open and-- oh.

Oh. Oh god.

“Shit, Archie!” He shouted, letting the bat clatter to the floor.

Archie--no, Vigil, based on the jumpsuit-- wasn’t breathing right. He was wheezing, almost gurgling, on his own air. Suddenly, he pitched forward with violent coughs, as if all the breath was being forced out of his lungs.

Simon caught him by the shoulders and patted his back firmly, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what the hell to do. Archie clung to him like a small child, and Simon nearly pulled back at the unnatural heat he felt.

God Archie, what did you do?

Archie had a strict no hospital rule. They established this early on in their relationship. As much as Simon wanted to respect it, this was serious. This was perhaps even beyond his abilities to fix. Archie’s lips were turning blue, and he Simon knew that wasn't promising.

In a quick spur-of-the-moment rationalization, Simon figured that maybe Vigil couldn’t go to the ER, but Archie definitely needed to. 

“Alright Archie, cmon.. stay with me..” He murmured, pulling him inside and shutting the doors. 

As deftly as he could, he pulled off the Vigil jumpsuit and stuffed Archie into some of his own clothes. Archie's body was alarmingly pliable. He cursed the time they were wasting, but he needed to get Archie into civilian clothing before they headed to the ER.

Archie was not all the way there, but in a moment of fleeting awareness, he looked around the room and let out a little gasp.

“Th.. needle..?” He murmured, looking as if seeing something that wasn’t there.

Simon kneeled in front of him, cupping his cheek. God, he was burning. “There’s nothing here. It’s just me. Simon. It’s just me, Archie.”

Archie suddenly blanched, doing a double take around the room. There were textbooks and papers scattered about, as well as copious amounts of energy drinks. Tears began to well in Archie’s eyes.

“Finals..Si.. S’mon.. so sorry.. m’bothering you..” Archie slurred, wheezing between every syllable.

Simon stared at him blankly before huffing a pained laugh. Only Archie would be on death's door and still worry about cutting into Simon's cram time.

“You’re not serious.. oh Archie.. fuck..” He breathed, yanking Archie up into a fireman’s carry.

They would have to discuss this later. They were wasting precious seconds they might not have.

Once settled into the car, Archie burst into more vicious, wet coughs. This fit was the worst by far. He couldn’t stop choking long enough to get a single breath in. His eyes were glazing over. Simon had to pat his cheek to bring him back to consciousness once he was able to inhale again.

As soon as he was stable enough, Simon put the fucking pedal to the metal.

He ended up making the twenty-five minute drive to the hospital in fifteen.

Archie was seen immediately, which both comforted and concerned Simon.

He buried his face into his hands.

Was this his fault? Should he have checked in with Archie more often while on his hiatus? More than anybody, Simon was aware of Archie’s poor self-care habits. He should have known Archie would avoid coming to him with a problem for fear of disturbing him.

He didn’t know how many times he had to tell Archie he didn't mind until it stuck in his mind.

Simon sighed and prayed to anybody that was listening that his friend was going to be okay.

After an impossibly long hour and a half, Simon was finally called back to Archie’s room.

When he entered, he felt his breath catch in his chest. 

Simon wasn’t a crier. He wasn’t naturally prone to tears like Archie was, yet when he saw the sight of his friend hooked up to a myriad of tubes like the patients he treated every day, his vision blurred.

“Oh Archie..” He murmured, rushing to the side of the bed. His hand hovered for a moment before gently landing on the side of Archie’s face. He had an oxygen mask strapped to him and he was sleeping, but it didn’t look restful.

The doctor rattled off the details of Archie’s condition. Ironically, this was the material Simon was supposed to be studying for anyways. 

Archie had contracted severe, sudden onset pneumonia. The doctor suspected he’d contracted it from someone, but they’d have to wait until Archie woke up to confirm.

They currently had him on a defibrillator and antibiotics, as well as fluids and fever reducers. Though his condition was dire when he came in, he was being treated properly and would be fine.

Simon sank into the chair beside the bed, finally exhaling with relief.

Archie was going to be fine.

He scooted up closer and slipped his hand into Archie’s, running his thumb along the back of it.

“You’re an idiot. You know that?” He whispered, finally content to just be by his side.

••••

When Archie woke up, he felt like someone was sitting on his chest.

Seriously.

It felt like he was being crushed.

He blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright lights.

He recognized immediately that this was not home.

His breath hitched as he tried to sit up, but it caught in his throat and he began coughing. It was then that he noticed the mask around his face and the needles in his arm-- oh god.

He whimpered sharply, already reaching to rip out the IVs in his arms. His wrist was caught by a familiar hand.

“Hey. Hey Archie. Look at me. Can you do that?”

Archie swallowed and reluctantly brought his gaze to meet the person beside him. Simon.

“You’re okay. You’re in the hospital. You have pneumonia, you showed up at my doorstep and collapsed. You’re here as Archie, okay? Not Vigil. You’re safe,” He explained softly, pulling Archie’s hand away from the IVs. “These are just for your antibiotics and fluids, okay? Nothing bad.. it's okay.”

Archie still felt panic blooming in his chest at the sight of the needles, but they were different enough from the syringe he was actually scared of that he was able to take Simon’s words to heart and settle.

He was too tired to be worked up anyways. He felt the exhaustion deep in his bones, and it ached. He whined softly, breath rattling in his chest.

Simon reached a hand up and carded it through Archie’s hair, smiling down gently at him. He used his other hand to rub gentle circles with his thumb along the back of his hand.

“I’m.. really glad you’re okay..” He whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Archie’s warm brow.

Archie had many things to say, but they were all forgotten as soon as Simon’s lips met his skin. He melted. He felt a dopey smile creep up on his face and he fluttered his eyes shut.

Whatever he needed to say could wait until the morning.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[docwritesshit]

Hi could you please do a one shot of a possessed reader x macaque?

Mhm! I only do possession when the pissed person can't really move as it's an ick for me to write otherwise so ye

Anyways!

You hated it. Despised it.

You watched as your body laid frozen as your lover ran frantically from book to computer, and the phone.

You could see the anxiety riding off of him in waves, the shadows around you writhing in an agitated state, mirroring your own emotions at the moment. It was currently the only way you two could communicate right now, since that damn spell hit you.

Macaque’s tail whipped around as he paced the room while on the phone.

“Wukong I know I know- Hey- It’s an emergency they aren’t moving and their eyes have this red glow to them but they are glazed kinda? Listen, I know we haven't agreed in the past but I need your help. Please.” He pleaded into the phone.

Your heart ached as your boyfriend hung up the phone, and looked at you. It was an expression you havent seen from him. It was… despair.

He walked with caution over to you, furrowing his brow as he got close enough to touch you. He brought his hand up, but froze. He looked down to your shadow.

“Can I touch you?” He asked it. The writhing subsided, flowing more smoothly. He nodded in acknowledgement and placed his hand to your cheek, grazing his thumb over your cheek bone.

“Are you in pain anywhere?”

The shadow’s tendrils swished back and forth rapidly, as to assure him you’re not. Because, well, you weren’t.

He sighed in relief, and looked up at you, frowning.

“Is anything else happening? Is anyone trying to take over?”

You tried to shake your head, to move your mouth. To assure him no, no ones doing anything. The shadows talked for you.

He clucked his tounge, growling slightly.

“I don’t know why the hold isn’t breaking. It should be by now since I knocked that guy out. He must have been a strong mage.” He muttered. You fought to try and lift your hands to his face, to do anything! But you stayed still.

A knock on the door made him jump.

“That has to be Wukong. I may not have had the best time with the guy as of late, but he’s good at figuring shit like this out.” He stated. He walked fast out of the room to greet his guest.

In your mind, you screamed. The shadows around you writhed with you, shooting out farther than you expected.

It was torture, being stuck in this state. Unable to do anything.

Wukong walked through the door and froze when he saw you, looking back to Macaque.

“Are we sure they aren’t being controlled?” He asked.

“Yes, I made sure.” Macaque grumbled out.

Wukong pulled face but went over to you, reaching up to his hair and pulling a strand out. The thing became a powder made of silver, and he blew it on your face.

You coughed, reaching up to smack the imp.

“Asshole!” You exclaimed. Macaque broke into a grin and rushed over to you, tackling you into a hug.

“My star.” He mumbled into your chest. “Welcome home.”

[lailawinchesterr]

part six, danneel’s house [jensen ackles]

series masterlist | main masterlist

six,

My weekend could be spent studying for finals, or relaxing on the set of one of cw's longest, most successful, shows. Or in a cafe, grabbing a freshly glazed donut that i could’ve been craving, but it’s not. I am, in fact, not doing any of that, because my 'friends' (and i say this with all the love in my heart) are complete assholes who are driving me to Danneel's house.

I love that woman more than ever thought was possible, but it will never make up for what she did. Leaving me stranded, no calls or texts. Didn’t even check up on me, for God's sake. So no, i don't want to see her (at least not be the one to knock on her door) but apparently the girls found out where she lives from Jensen and we're all taking an adorable little road trip down to frickin' Lebanon. Now, I don't know what in the supernatural is going on, but i do not randomly drive from California to Lebanon, a three hour drive, on a random Friday just because i want to see an old friend who doesn't even consider me a friend anymore.

"Laila, you'll get wrinkles with all the frowning." Gen says sarcastically, looking over at me for a second from behind the wheel. For once in our lives, we don't have Jared with us, though he did say he might come pick us up with Bert, their driver. We won't let him though, this girls trips thing is fun, even if it is in favor to a girl I'm not in the mood to talk to.

"Shut up." I mumble and lean further into my chair, sighing. "Sometimes i love you but sometimes, you really suck, Gen."

"Hey, fucking— fuck!" She screams at a guy who stopped suddenly, pressing the horns for a couple of seconds before we steer away from him. "Sorry, what were you saying?" I'm about to answer when she cuts me off, "Right, you hate me. Well, you miss Danneel more than you hate me, so it evens out." 

"It doesn't. I don't want to see her."

"You don’t want to see her or you don’t want to see Jensen?"

"What?" I almost scream at her, my eyes widening while i grip her shoulder, squeezing just enough for it to pinch. It’s how my mother used to communicate her anger while I drove back in my hometown, a habit I’ve picked up as to not distract the driver but still convey your frustration— the way my mother so eloquently put it.

"Oh, we forgot to mention Jens is staying at her place for a few days with the kids, we figured we could maybe even push them together a little, you know? Jensen looks like he misses her too and i haven't seen Danneel but she didn't hide away from all of us if she's fine, you know." I do know. i know very well. That doesn’t mean i want to see her and Jensen. 

Why has my life come to this? Where's Jared when you need him? "Hey!" Gen says sternly, "No thinking of my boyfriend while i give you a hard time, i get jealous easily." 

A wide smile marks my features at how well she knows me, and I tease back: "Over him?"

"Over you." We laugh slightly, loosening up. It's fine, i've got my girls, what's the worst that can happen?

+

"Alona, calm me down." I panic while i balance one of the cakes we got in my hand. I got this. I can do this.

"You are an amazing person, and you have nothing to worry about, calm down, baby." I smile at her and nod. She kisses my cheek and leans into me so practically all her weight is on my shoulders, it helps distract me a little. Especially when i notice a half naked Zepp opening the door for us, screaming for 'mommy'.

"Laila!" He runs over to me and my short blooming laughter echoed throughout the small group, watching as he embraces my legs so i bend down to hug him back. And then, just as he's about to let go, Arrow does the same, throwing her toy car onto the floor. Her cute 'Leela' makes me smile even wider and i kind of forget about everyone else for a second, because God if i don't love these kids like my own. For all the weird and crappy with their parents, i've never loved a couple of children the way i do the ackles'.

"Alright you little monsters, give aunt Gen some love." And they don't waste a second to do so, screaming while she gives the cake in her hand to Alona so we can carry them into the house. 

We weren't exactly welcomed in, per se, but right as we shut the door behind us Jensen comes down, sweatpants and a black shirt on, hair still wet from what i assume was a shower, and greets all of us. 

From what's i've seen, and i've seen my fair share, Jensen is one of the most polite humans i've ever met. I've hardly seen him hug women he doesn't know, a habit i've noticed men take lightly. I hate it. I don't like being in such close proximity of someone i'm not comfortable with, so even though we've all known this man for half a decade, all he does is shake our hands, kiss our cheeks, and smile that charming smile of his, in respect to both all their husbands, i'm guessing, and our personal space.

"Hey, Laila, how've you been, darlin'?" He greets softly like he did everyone else, though they're giving us their backs now. He shakes my hand, pulling me in to kiss both my cheeks and invite me in further (not like we needed help in that department, we let ourselves in).

"I'm good, you?"

"Happy you're all here. Jare told me Gen might come but he didn't mention she'd bring everyone else with her, i'm sure Danneel will be glad." I scoff lightly but immediately regret it. I don't want him to think i'm mad at Danneel, even if i am, it isn't something i want to talk with him about. I'm sure i'd tell him just about anything if he asks though. "Hey, hey," he says to catch my attention, walking a little closer to me now, "she is, she will be, it's been a long time since she left California, she's much better now."

"But hasn't had time for a call." I roll my eyes and almost walk away from him before he grips my arm, still gentle but a little demanding.

"Please, be gentle with Dan, she's still going through... other stuff. I’m sure she'll tell you when she's ready but she needs her friends here." He pauses, then, "I'm happy you came." The 'you' no longer referred to all of us at the end of that sentence and it leaves me wondering for a second before Alona snatches my wrist, pulling me next to her as Jensen announces he'll take the cakes to the fridge.

"What was that?" She hisses, making me shrug. We all walk to the living room and just when she looks like she's about to press the matter, Icarus runs over to all of us, barking.

Have i mentioned how deathly afraid of dogs Rachel is? oh damn it. 

"Rachel!" Gen cries, moving our friend away from the half-spaniel, half-poodle breed that's barking up and down, he'd probably have done much worse if Gen wasn't standing in his way. Rachel winces as Gen touches her bad shoulder, still obviously sore from the accident.

"Hey, hey!" I hear her voice. I hear my best friends voice. The voice i've been longing to hear for a whole year; the one she’s been ignoring us for. It makes me spin so fast i thought i'd get wiplash. "Icarus! Down!" He obeys slowly, baeking softly so Danneel pets him, telling him to go somewhere, which he listens to and Rachel looks like she's this close to fainting so her and Alona go to the bathroom to freshen up.

That leaves me, my ex best friend, her ex husband, and Genevieve Cortese in the room. That doesn't last long because Jensen excuses himself to take a call so now it's us three. "Hey guys." Danneel's voice is weak and low and it makes me question whether what Jensen was saying is actually true or not. She’s never sounded like this.

That's the moment i decided to let it all go. If she was here, hurting, how am i ever going to forgive myself for giving her more shit? 

"Hey, baby." I soothe, placing my hand on top of hers, "How have you been? We've been worried sick about you, you haven't called in too long."

"Yeah, i have." She lets out a choked cough, "i'm sorry, i have something to tell you but... God, i just don't—"

"Dee!" Gen interrupts her rambling, "We're here, talk to us."

"I was pregnant." What in the ever loving fuck?

part seven

I know what you’re thinking but I swear next chapter we get to see Laila and jensen actually doing something. Just need to give you guys the slow burn and drama first— mostly drama.

taglist: @kr804573

[ask-cueball]

...so. Tumblr's gone through a lot the past week or two, huh..?

With this new update, I...don't think I feel comfortable posting Ask Cueball to Tumblr anymore. I've already switched all the toggles to opt-out of them selling my work to the AI companies, but I also know from here that they've already compiled and sent the data, including things that should never have been sent like post drafts, private posts, and all the unanswered asks that you all have sent in. My work, and your work, is already in the hands of the AI companies, without our consent. And most of my work is old enough that Glaze didn't even exist yet, so of course there was no protection on it when the data was compiled. Plus, you can't Glaze text.

...I haven't decided where I'm moving yet. I'll let you all know once I figure it out, and I won't delete anything here until I've relocated, so you'll still be able to read the comic. But between the AI stuff and the recent public treatment of trans people on this site, I don't want to host my art here anymore, not like this. As of right now, I'm considering a Cohost and/or a Neocities site, and am looking out for other options as well. The Ask Cueball Discord is remaining active and you're always welcome to join (it's been pretty quiet since the blog's also been pretty quiet, but I am active on Discord all the time so if you show up I'll be there!) And while it's not Ask Cueball related, or a social site at all, I do have an ArtFight as well.

Sorry to give you guys an update like this, I know you'd rather be seeing some funny shape robots by now. Hope you all understand, and hopefully it won't be too long until we find a place better suited for us.

[markersmadness]

𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙎

𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒌. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒕... 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏 [𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓]'𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆.

𝐎ne thing I notice new writers tend to think is that a emotional or important scene has to be dangerous. that there has to be risk. but that isn't true. in fact, the opposite can be! scenes where the surroundings don't reflect a character's emotions make them feel real; the rain won't conveniently come for you, so why should it for your character?

Scenes where a character isn't surrounded by pain, perhaps even surrounded by joy can make their misery all the more impactful. Describe the energetic, lovely, happy people around them. How their friends cheer and hold one another, play games and run amok. The bubbly, warmly colored room, the nostalgic and dazzling music. All while your character is breaking apart, their eyes glazed over like newly cut glass.

Using impactful words to show a character in pain makes the reader feel it, too. metaphors to describe their perspective, the hints that they aren't really okay, meshed with descriptive narratives depicting celebration causes such a contrast that it makes a heavy impact.

Of course, there are times where it's better to have the atmosphere match the emotions. this technique only works when used sparingly; having the same scenario, same metaphors makes your writing dull. if you feel like you're running out of writing methods, or that you're repeating your self, be it word choice or characterization or anything really, try writing one shots! think of a different approach to write each time for each one shot, so that you can explore what is best to write in what circumstance.

The world around your character is just as important as the character themself. Yes, it's important to have dimensional characters, and to build on their traits. But it doesn't matter if you're unable to convey it. One of the hardest things to do is to write an interesting story when a character and the world don't "match"; the character isn't motivated, doesn't care, doesn't... feel for their environment. Hence why so many authors and writers try to explain and show how important motivations and goals are for your characters, but then they don't explain it, don't tell you or show you why it is that they need a goal.

It's still possible; it's difficult but it is possible to write a story for a character without a motivation. It's just a very bad starting point for those who are new to writing, or haven't entirely figured their characters or writing style out yet. So don't take it as a "never", take it as " do this only if you really think you can work with it "

I'll make a separate post for a list of metaphors and descriptors I like to use, some are listed here above in the example (bolder) but there are lots more if you're at a loss!