#type moon x reader

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Tsukihime X Reader Incorrect Quotes

Kohaku: Who the FUCK is burning durning down my kitchen? You: Making breakfast for your wonderful girlfriend

You, to Arcueid: Let's play a little game called "Chill the Fuck Out" you're our first contestant.

You: Jellyfish have survived 600,000 years without a brain. Ciel: A ray of hope for Arcueid.

Akiha to you, Hisui, Kohaku, and Shiki: I wish I was stupid. You all seem so happy.

You: You are so petty. Noel: And conceited I thought you said pretty.

You: Stop right there. Bad luck is not brought on by silly superstitions like chain letters. Arcueid: You're right. They're brought on by black cats. Len, in her cat form: That is a hateful stereotype.

Noel: [ falls down a flight of stairs ] You: I hope you're okay. Ciel: Stop falling down the stairs. Mario: How'd the ground taste?

Arcueid to you: In another life, I would’ve loved to have done taxes and laundry with you.

Archetype Earth: You see me as a god, right? You: Absolutely. Archetype Earth: You'd kneel before me, wouldn't you? You: Boy, would I.

You: If a beautiful woman disagrees with me I will immediately change my views. I have no principles. Kohaku: Well maybe you should have principles. You: You're right, maybe I should.

You: Let's clear the air. Are there any more lies I should know about? Kohaku: Yes. You: Well? Kohaku: Well there's a bunch of things. But I'm gonna space them out so I won't look like such a bad person.

You: Listen, I'm gonna need you to swear. Hisui, with the conviction of someone who has been waiting years for this: FUCK You: … You: [ sharp inhale ] You: Swear as in promise.

Akiha: Hisui drives. You: Why?? Akhia: She's least likely to hit something just for fun. Kohaku: True.

Kohaku: Let's not talk about my problematic past, but about my problematic future.

You, staring at a tea pot: How do you think it tastes? Akiha: Like tea. You: Yes. But is it floral? Bitter? Mildly sweet with notes of buttery- Akiha: Warm. And wet.

Arcueid: We've been through so much together, haven't we? You: Yeah. And most of it was your fault.

You: If you got arrested what would the charges be? Ciel: Theft. Arcueid: Disturbing the peace. Hisui: Aggravated assault. Akhia: Arson. Kohaku: All of the above, in that order probably.

You to Akhia: She's in the kitchen again… Hisui, reading a recipe: 'beat three eggs.' In what? Hand to hand combat? Kohaku: Hisui, my beloved sister. Get out before I hit you with a cast iron pan.

Kohaku, trying to get Akhia out of bed: Don't make me get the water bucket. Akiha, half asleep: You wouldn't. You and Hisui, soaking wet: Yes, she would.

Shiki: Can I be frank with you guys? You: Sure, but I don't see how changing your name is gonna help. Kohaku: Can I still be me? Akhia, smirking cruelly: Shh, let Frank speak.

Kohaku: I FIXED IT! You: What did you fix? Kohaku: EVERYTHING! [ loud explosion in the background ] Kohaku: … except that.

Shiki: I know you're shy. That's okay. I know the perfect way to get them to notice you. Akhia: How? Shiki, yelling across the room: YO!!!

Akhia: Where are you going? Hisui: Kohaku told me instead of being sad I should "go get it, girl." So I'm going to "go get it, girl." Akhia: Get what? Hisui: Unclear. I'll get everything, just to be safe.

Kohaku: How do you keep an idiot waiting? Akhia: I don't know, how? Kohaku: I'll tell you later, Akhia: Okay… [ 30 minutes later ] Akhia: Wait a damn second.

You: Akhia and I were just walking across the street, and this guy drove by and honked at us. Shiki: What did Akhia do? You: She chased him to the next red light then reached into his window and- Akhia, walks in holding a steering wheel: Who wants a steering wheel?

You: Do you think before you speak? Arcueid: I mean yeah, I think "hey that's funny" and then I say it.

Ciel: Nothing's never happening to me. Never. You: I know. I'm- Ciel, you phrased that so weird. Ciel: I may have a concussion.

White Len: I am what they call a conflict escalator. A trained specialist in escalating even the most minor disagreements to the brink of all out violence.

You: Aren't you afraid you might be- I don't know- incurring God's wrath? Arcueid: Eh, God's cool. Ciel: See, I don't know that he is.

Akhia, Half Delirious From overwork: It's okay to keep secrets, everybody has some skeletons in the closet. Wraiths in the attic. Ghosts in the bedroom. Mummy in the kitchen. Enchanted armor on the stairs. Slimes in the basement. Maybe a giant spider in the backyard. Beholder or two in the garage. Vampires are also in the closet. Akhia, slumping down into her chair while putting her head in her hands: My house is very unsafe.

Kohaku: Date someone who loves you totally. Ciel: Date someone who disregards your Cracker Barrel arson charge. Arcueid: Date someone who was your accomplice in the Cracker Barrel arson.

[deathc-re]

oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!

[ghouljams]

Nasty Dog

(cw: Fae!Soap x f!reader, pre-negotiated consent but not from you, groping, public sex, exhibitionism, dub-con oral(f!receiving), dub-con fingering, fae contracts)

The look you give your boss is nothing short of absolute malice.

Price does nothing but smile, before tossing the dress onto the bar and nodding at it more pointedly.

"Change." He orders.

"I'm not wearing that." You insist.

"Should've seen what he picked out first, be glad I talked 'im down." Price tells you; it doesn't make you feel any better. You still stare down the fabric on the bar and wonder if you could even consider that a dress or something closer to a long shirt.

An incentive, Price had called it, a reward for a job well done. You understand the concept, you just don't know why this has to involve you.

"He's gonna try to fuck me over the bar," You try appealing to reason. Price is a reasonable man, mostly, surely he wouldn't want his bartender unable to pour drinks.

"I'll keep hold of 'is leash." Price assures you. Somehow it isn't comforting. Not that you find anything about the man particularly comforting. He's a decent boss but no more trustworthy than any other fae you've dealt with. Still, if he says he'll keep Soap on a tight leash then that's what he'll do.

"Fine," You relent, "but if I even see his dick I'm quitting."

The threat holds no weight, you have a contract with these assholes, and you know better than to break it. Price still raises a brow, likely thinking the same thing. You grab the skimpy dress with a grumble and go to one of the back rooms to change.

Stupid sex club. Stupid faeries. Stupid job that you stupid need to pay your stupid fucking bills.

-

It's late into the night before Soap even shows up. You're so busy mixing drinks, pouring pints, and trying to tug down the back of your skirt, that you don't even notice him slip behind the bar.

You do notice him when you turn to grab the Aperol, and your eyes immediately flick to the tent in the front of his pants. You scowl when you meet his eye.

"Keep it in your pants," You tell him, doing your best to avoid touching him as you reach around him to grab the bottle.

He doesn't give you the same courtesy, reaching down to lift your skirt as you lean.

You yelp at the sudden exposure and immediately attempt to cover yourself again. Soap's hand is firm where he's got your skirt held, and though you tug at the edges your ass remains out. Soap clicks his tongue.

"Didnae give ya the panties like Ah asked."

You give up on tugging your skirt down in favor of twisting to push at him. You shove his hands, his chest, anything you can make contact with.

"Let go," You demand, feeling something awful warm when he drops to his knees.

"Don't mind me, bonnie." Soap hums, his hands dropping your skirt to grip your thighs. Your hands follow his and you bend to try to slide his hands off of you, only to feel his teeth against the swell of your ass. You stiffen, shooting back to your full height in an instant. You glance at Price across the room, and he holds his hand up with a smile.

Bastard. You can almost hear him telling you to get back to work.

You try to move to grab a new bottle, and Soap keeps you tightly in place. The only thing you can reach is the beer taps. You shoot a quick glare Price's way.

"Pints only for a minute," You tell the patrons seated on the other side of the bar, before you turn your attention back to Soap, "because that's all you're getting, one minute."

Soap doesn't respond except to shuffle closer between your legs and make himself comfortable. You grab a glass and tug the tap's handle to pour a pint for the man that slides up to the bar. Your eyes dart over him, assessing, and you switch to a cider over the lager you'd grabbed. You'd love to give him something with raspberry, maybe muddled with gin, light but stiff, but you're stuck.

Soap's tongue drags over the sleek silk of your panties, and you nearly drop the glass in shock. It takes all your self control to finish the pour, set it on the bar, and keep your face straight. His thumbs rub over your panties, spreading your clothed folds before he licks his tongue over you again. You shudder and push at his hands again, his grip feels like iron, his fingers digging into your thighs to a near painful degree.

The man on the other side of the bar gives you a strange look before retreating to some dark corner.

Another long lick followed by a deep groan, before he's peppering kisses over your ass and dragging your panties down to your knees. There's a measure of care to the press of his lips that you choose to ignore and then forget entirely when he bites your ass hard. You yelp and snap a hand over your mouth to keep from disturbing any of the men on the other side of the bar.

A placating kiss is planted on the fresh bite, and you twist to catch Soap's eye.

"Okay, that's a minute," You tell him, uncaring whether it is or not, "that's all you get."

"Ah dinnae agree tae that." Soap tells you, "Price says Ah have ya for the night."

Your gaze jerks to Price. Then around the bar. You can't find him. Is he even here? What happened to holding the leash?

You turn back to Soap and it feels like all the air has been punched out of you. He holds your gaze with those awful electric blues, and makes you watch him burry his face back between your legs. You twist back to the bar, your back twinging at how quickly your muscles tighten at the first touch of his tongue against your skin.

You grab another pint glass as one of the patrons on the edge of the bar grabs a stool in front of you. You need a distraction from the boiling anger you feel. So you can just be traded for favors? Given out like a prize for a job well done? What's next? He'll be selling you with the girls in the back rooms?

Heat slicks its way up your spine at the twist of Soap's tongue over your clit. Warmth slides back down to melt between your legs, pooling and tingling to following the steady flow of lapping. Over your cunt, between your folds, Soap's face held firm against you even as his hands slide to spread you apart. Waves of sensation that wear like a steady beat against the rocky beach of your self control.

Your hand shakes on the tap as you pour Guinness for a man that looks like he'd prefer a sour. The stout overflows, leaking down the glass and sliding over your fingers as a new wave of pleasure sinks under your skin. You don't bother drying your hand off, or apologizing, you barely get the pint on the bartop without cracking the glass.

The man gives you a once over as he takes it, and you grip the edge of the bar to try and gather your wits about you. You swallow down a sharp noise as Soap drags his tongue in strange familiar shapes over your clit. Your breathing feels uneven, and your hips push back into his touch without your brain telling them to.

It's all too hot, too wet, too focused, for you to keep a thought in your head. Your hands shake against the bar, fingers flexing open and closed with the overwhelming desire to grab and pull at the head between your thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut against the shot of pleasure that zips through you, tightening in your stomach before swirling between your ribs. You bend at the waist, pressing back, aching for more. Those strange familiar tracings are driving you mad.

(Johnny)

Each little flick and roll against your clit making your body shudder and react.

(Johnny)

Your cunt feels hot, electrified with the aching need that drips from it.

(Johnny)

His nose presses against your entrance, grinds teasingly against the wet hole until your breath is shuddering and you're halfway to begging him to fill you.

(Johnny, Johnny)

He pulls back to push his wiggling tongue into your cunt, and you nearly sob in relief. Your head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton, the throbbing pain behind your eyes is starting to recede back into the recesses of your mind. You hadn't even noticed it before it was gone.

Not that you notice its absence, not when your entire being seems to be focused wholly on the way your cunt stretches around Johnny's tongue. The warm wet muscle pokes and prods, wiggling and licking at your soft inner walls when it isn't fucking in and out of you like a promise.

A whimper leaves your lips when his tongue leaves you and drags another rough stripe over your cunt. It feels dangerous, loaded, intent. Some singular goal already accomplished, a deer finally shot allowing the hunter to feed, you almost feel Johnny smile.

You lean over the counter, the cold, wet, wood seeping into the thin fabric of your dress to cling to your skin. Despite the sudden chill your mouth falls open as Johnny sucks at your clit, his tongue rolling over the sensitive bud in crashing waves of pleasure. Your lashes flutter, your eyes roll, and the customer in front of you leans back on his stool. The soft moan that drops from your lips seems to roll like iron across the bar, making every patron pick up their glass in the vein hope of not looking like they're watching you.

Johnny doesn't break from his ministrations, shaking his head as he tries to press closer to you. The stubble along his jaw scratches at your thighs, and you try to swallow down some of the spit that's collecting on your tongue as he swipes broad strokes with his own through your slick folds.

One of the patrons reaches over the bar to touch your cheek, and when you flinch away Johnny growls. He pulls his mouth from your cunt only long enough to warn the man:

"Anyone touches 'er I'll have their heid."

The threat shouldn't send prickles of heat over your skin like it does. Not for the slow way that Johnny puts his mouth on you again, a low growling hum as his lips close around your clit that rocks little jolts of heat through you. His tongue flicks tight short licks against the sensitive bud and each one seems to build a crescendo of want that coils tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

Every muscle in your body pulls tight, forces the arch of your back as you push yourself desperately back into his attentions.

You drop your forehead against the bar with a pathetic whine. You feel pathetic, vulnerable in a way you've never experienced. Every patron at the bar seems to have their eyes on you, you can feel them like a brand, and that attempt to touch you... Knowing they're watching you fall apart, watching Johnny do whatever he likes to you because of a deal he made with your boss- You just hope none of them are wondering what they have to do to earn the same reward.

Johnny's head turns to press his lips to the soft skin of your inner thigh, smearing your slick across the skin, and pushes a finger into you. Your lip wobbles at the not-quite-full feeling, at the burning slide of his finger in and out of you. You can feel his eyes on you too, but where your customers' eyes rove hungrily over your body, Johnny's are focused solely on the way your cunt swallows his thick finger.

His lips mover against your thigh, silent murmurings that your ears strain for over the music of the bar. A second digit slides gently in beside the first, his fingers scissoring to watch the stretch and God it just melts through you. You feel the stretch like a slow warmth that spreads through your pelvis and dribbles down your thighs. Out and in, his fingers dive into you and pull back with just the taste of your slick on his knuckles.

It's less overwhelming than his mouth. Enough of a thought coalesces in your brain to make you lift your head off the bar.

And to feel a sharp jolt of fear burst through you at the way the patron across from you tugs at his belt.

No.

No, you can't do this. It's too much. There are too many people and they're going to think you're something more than just the bartender. They're going to try and touch you, or make you touch them.

It dowses over your heated skin like cold water, making you prickle and tense, shaking with something so close and yet so far from pleasure that your body can't seem to decide what to do with it.

You're not sure who you mean to call for help, but a name springs to your lips faster than your tongue can pick it up.

"Jo-" Johnny's hand wraps around your mouth, his body plastered against your back in a second. The rush of fear leaves you in an instant as his lips find the shell of your ear. His fingers never leave you.

The gentle thrust of his fingers into your tight cunt feels almost like a lifeline, a sensation you can hold onto that you can't confuse for anything else.

"Ahm here, hen." He murmurs, his eyes flicking from your face to the patron's hand. "Ahm nae gonna let anyone dae anythin'." More than an assurance, a promise. You sink back into the feeling. "Take it as a compliment," His lips drag over the top of your cheek, up to your temple, "look so pretty that they cannae help touchin' 'emselves."

You half expect him to leave you like this, to go back to where he'd been between your legs, but he doesn't.

Your fingers find his forearm and grip it tight, something to hold onto as his fingers pick up the pace. In and out, in and out, faster and faster, harder and harder, until you can't stop the high moans that Johnny's hand muffles. His lips press everywhere they can, peppering the side of your face and the length of your neck with something that feels almost like affection as your hips rock and your muscles spasm.

Each thrust of his fingers hits right where you want it, pushing at that wet ache that seems to radiate pleasure. You claw at Johnny's arm with both hands as your back arches to a near painful degree, and he releases his hold on your face to grab your throat.

He fixes his mouth against yours in a searing kiss right as you come, your cunt fluttering around his fingers. Wet squelching rings over the music, filling your ears, and his palm with the sound of your pleasure. His tongue sweeps against yours, and you swallow the rush of saliva the feeling brings.

Johnny looks terribly pleased when he pulls away.

Pleased and delightfully fuzzy.

Your brain is still working through all the sex hormones and the red lighting isn't helping your vision.

You think you should be... mad at him.

You do your best to scowl at him.

"I hope you're not expecting anything in return." You insist, though your knees feel weak enough to drop to the ground right there. Johnny hums.

"Already got what I wanted." He informs you.

Your eyes narrow.

Whatever the fuck that means, it probably isn't good for you.

You fend off his groping the rest of the night, and lock up with a strange(familiar and terrifying) weight on your chest.

[lilacprose]

𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 | 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary; In a dark, small cell on the Star Fighter, Vader enters. On his knees, his helmet off, eyes on her... word count; 1,040 words a/n; The indulgence is selfing. He's still Vader with the armour but not burned. ROTS-era hair. Yea... 😳 May or may not be inspired by this specific photo. oop-. Shoutout to the best of the best @itsladyliv who always got my back, and @crumblekitty who beta-read this fic (we sure had a Time™ brainstorming this). content includes; Vader on his knees doing you-know-what (oral) to fem!reader. Nothing too graphic, more atmospheric than smutty (but smutty nonetheless). Written in third person with no use of y/n. Minimal dialogue. Minors can look away, there's nothing to see here.

Smooth metal beneath the tips of her fingers. Nails and fingertips digging through the grooves others before her had created. Sensing a piece of them with each scratching motion. Scared. Terrified. Innocent. Guilty. Straightening out the fabric of her long white skirt, she contemplated which one of those belonged to her. Scared when they dragged her, terrified when her face got covered. A white masked “guilty” before doors closed behind her.

And then darkness. It lifted from her head only to engulf her again in the small cell. But instead of marching footsteps, the galaxy gently hummed outside her window. She couldn’t make out anything. A stream of white light illuminated the room, cutting it in two. A straight line between her and emptiness.

She draws a deep, questioning breath. How long was she going to stay here? Long enough for her vision to remember these four walls? Long enough for this bench to become a permanent piece of her? Her hands move on either side of her, her grip tightening on the edge of the bench for a moment. She taps her fingertips mindlessly on the cool metal surface and sighs.

Interspersing the galactic hum, there were sudden footsteps. Heavy. Leather boots sounding like they could be full of metal. Making haste to the door. When the door flies open, she sits up straight. Turns her head. It was only breaths she could hear. Echoing, echoing, echoing. Her eyes began to adjust to the towering presence in the room. Darth Vader was enormous, making the room seem so much smaller than it already was.

He walks to the corner opposite her, past the white light. Something clicks. The breathing suddenly stops. She sees Vader’s shadowy hands reach for the helmet and lift it off his head. Her eyes had gotten used to the dark by now. Adjusted to the outline of his body, the flow of heavy fabric a black waterfall down his broad shoulders. He throws his head back, soft curls gently cascading as he stretches his neck from side to side. Vader lets out a sigh.

The helmet crashes to the ground with a loud thud that makes her jump. Her heart races as he slowly turns towards her. He takes slow steps into the light. Parted lips illuminated, shiny with longing and starvation. His chest rises and sinks beneath the heavy armour. She notices the shallowness of his breaths—impatiently quick with lustful undercurrents.

Her heart thumps in her chest. He’s so quiet. She longs for the echoes of mechanical breaths instead of this. This deafening, deafening silence. Him not saying a word. Her not knowing what will happen next.

And yet…

The more she looks at him, the more she knows. The questions from before return to her like trails of a wildfire. Scared. Terrified. Innocent.

Guilty.

The cloak swishes. Heavy fabric thrown behind his back. Vader lowers himself, moving away from the light, his lips hidden in the shadows. The stream of white hits only his eyes. Closed, looking down, never meeting hers.

A furrow on his brow grows with focus. “Do you believe it?” The sound of his voice, an intoxicating deepness, sends a hot flash in her core. His hands slide, clothed and steady, over her sides. Caressing her hips, creasing her skirt. He grabs fistfuls of white fabric, hitching it over her knees. “That you’re guilty?” Vader looks up at her now, requiring only one look from him for her to lift herself so that the skirt can fall over her hips. Vader removes his left glove. His leather and her white lace float to the floor. Vader’s two hands stroke her thighs, the right clothed and the left as bare as hers.

Slowly. He bends her left leg, his bare grip firm on her soft skin. Slowly. Warm lips begin to trace a trail down her inner thigh.

She gasps at the sensation of his mouth. Vader draws his tongue over her arousal, steady and slow. Tasting her like a starving man. She leans her head back against the wall, letting out a loud moan as he begins sucking her. Oh—she wants to touch him. To feel the strands of his hair between her fingers as he devours her. Her fingertips barely get to graze his hair when her hands suddenly become unable to touch him. All that comes out of him is a low “No…” as his moans reach deeper into her. Her hands move to the edge of the bench. He keeps them there, holding her down with a phantom’s touch. He hums into her, heated vibrations spread all over.

One look.

He denies it. Vader shakes his head, his hair tickling her inner thighs. She becomes unable to say anything. All that can come out of her are pleasured tears. In her mind she pleads and begs, but words don’t form—they only sigh and moan and cry for him.

Let me touch you.

Her knees buckle, and she writhes over him. Vader picks up the pace, adjusting his body so he reaches the parts of her that make her scream. Her legs rest on his shoulders. He lets out loud, deep groans.

Still without looking. Still holding her down.

Please—

The Force slowly lifts off her hands.

Lips lift from her too.

He catches his breath. “Tell me… What’s it going to be, then? Innocent…” He opens his eyes. “…Or guilty?” Vader looks at her for what feels like an achingly long time. The questioning hot gaze and his darkened eyes send her closer to the edge. Her hands glide up his head. She takes in the sight of him as her fingers, entangled with curls, massage his head. She hopes that his eyes never abandon her. To remain open as her hands carefully tug at his hair. To never break when she directs his face back to the throbbing spot between her legs. To stay with her until she comes undone before him.

His shallow, hot breath brushes against her. He waits. He keeps his eyes on her, but he waits. The anticipation, the hovering of his mouth over her.  The waiting.

His eyes stay on her as his lips return.

And he gives it to her.

taglist; @ladyanaschmidt @death-of-peace-of-mind @darth-jess @anakinstwinklebunny @orchidscurse @internallysalad

[mylovesstuffs]

Jun is THAT type of boyfriend !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Jun loves to keep things lighthearted, so expect him to tease you in the cutest ways—like mimicking your pout or joking about how you’re luckier to have him than he is to have you. But his teasing never crosses the line; it's his way of showing affection.

Jun’s ultimate goal is to see you happy, he thrives on making you smile and feel loved every day.

Jun has a way of staring that’s hard to explain. It’s dark and intense, like he’s memorizing every curve of your soul, every hidden thought you’ve tried to bury.

His hand lingers too long on your waist, his voice dropping an octave when he murmurs your name. It’s like he knows you’re his, and yet he’s daring the world to even try and take you away. God, the weight of his touch burns. He doesn’t even realize the effect he has, does he?

He’s naturally quirky and might fumble when expressing his feelings, but that makes his affection even more endearing. Whether it’s an awkward compliment or a slightly off-beat romantic gesture, it’ll make you smile every time.

While he’s playful, Jun has a deep and thoughtful side.

Jun would hype you up like no other. If you’re pursuing a hobby, achieving a milestone, or just getting through the day, he’s there with endless encouragement and admiration. He makes you feel like you can literally take on the world.

Jun is controlled chaos, a storm trapped in human form. He’s calm when he needs to be, but there’s a fire beneath the surface, one he barely keeps in check when he’s with you. And when he lets it loose—when his lips crash against yours like he’s starved, when his grip on you tightens as though he’ll never let go—it’s nothing short of devastating.

Jun’s empathetic nature means he’s always there to listen when you need to talk. He might not always have the perfect advice, but his comforting presence and kind words will make you feel heard and loved.

While he seems laid-back, Jun’s protective instincts come out when it matters. Whether it’s holding your hand in a crowded place or standing up for you, he ensures you always feel safe and valued.

Jun is unapologetically himself lmao, and he loves you for who you are. He’ll embrace your quirks, and even join in your weird habits.

Jun loves catching you off guard with the sweetest surprises. Like showing up with your favorite food after a long day or leaving random sticky notes with cute doodles and messages ^^

Jun doesn’t have to say much—his eyes do the talking. That heavy-lidded gaze (that has me drunk), the way his lips curl into a smirk when he catches you staring, it sends shivers down your spine. It’s maddening how he can make a single look feel like a promise of things you can’t even articulate without blushing.

He’s the boyfriend who randomly grabs your hand for an impromptu dance in the living room or on the street, twirling you around just because he can. AVGYFVTCDCTDVHVG

Jun isn’t shy about showing he wants to be close to you. He’ll casually rest his head on your shoulder, wrap an arm around your waist in public, or hold your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s subtle but constant—he’s always drawn to you.

No matter what random hobby or idea you come up with, Jun is game to try it with you. Whether it’s painting (even though he’s hilariously bad at it) or trying a new sport (as long as it's not associated with ball), he’s all in, just to share the experience.

Jun’s obsession is quiet but all-consuming. You catch glimpses of it in the way he traces patterns on your skin, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you shiver. Or in the way he whispers things in your ear that no one else is allowed to hear. There’s a darkness to it, an addictive intensity that leaves you both exhilarated and unnerved.

Jun secretly loves doing cheesy couple things—matching outfits, taking cute selfies, or planning themed dates. He might act like it’s no big deal, but he’s all in and proud to show off your relationship.

[lunarmoves]

this gingerbread home

pairing: DCA sun/moon x reader

mentions: gingerbread house shenanigans, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!), holiday goodness, not beta'd lol, sfw, post fire at the plex, relationship up to interpretation tbh

a/n: merry christmas @freakdoodles !! tis i, your secret santa! hope you enjoy this little fic full of cozy vibes and a gingerbread house gone wrong :3 happy holidays!

word count: 3.3k+

ao3 link

Your breath fogs against the window of your living room as you peer outside into the dark streets. Winter makes its presence known through the chill of the glass against your fingertips. Beyond it, snow falls gently to the ground to coat it in shimmering white. The deep blue shadows of the night dance across the layer of snow, chased away only slightly from the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. 

You wiggle your toes through your fluffy socks, the warmth of your home seeping pleasantly into your skin. Faintly, you can smell cinnamon wafting through the air from the kitchen. You have half a mind to see what it’s coming from, but you are captivated by watching the tiny, crystalline snowflakes drift down from the sky. 

It’s a time before something moves somewhere behind you—reflected like a ghost in the window’s glass. You look over your shoulder just in time for a mug of something warm to take up the entirety of your vision. 

“For you, my dear!” Sun beams at you, gently nudging the mug against your cheek. The smell of cinnamon is stronger now, intertwined with something distinctly chocolatey. 

“Thanks, bud.” You give him a smile and reach up to grab the mug from his hand. It’s like cupping your palms around a small flame, warming your hands and sinking into your skin. You smile down at the small mountain of whipped cream topping the drink and hiding the rich, velvet brown of the hot chocolate. You take a sip—and immediately regret it. 

“Careful!” Sun warns with the hint of a snicker as he watches you stick your tongue out in dismay. The tip of it is a bright red. “It is still rather hot, I’m afraid.” 

“You couldn’t have said that beforehand?” You roll your eyes half-heartedly and instead scoop up a bit of the whipped cream with your tongue before reeling it back into your mouth. The whipped cream is cool as it melts sweetly in your mouth. Better, if minutely. 

“I would have thought it’d been obvious it was right off the stove,” he retorts with all the affection in the world, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. “I have sorely misjudged your eagerness, I think.” 

You sniff and go in for another, more cautious, sip. It’s worth the slight burn on your tongue, the chocolate deliciously coating it and causing something pleasantly hot to settle within the inside of your belly. You sigh happily and have to force yourself to take on a more mockingly somber tone as you mess with him. “And after all the time we have spent together…” 

Sun chuckles and wraps a lithe arm around your shoulders so he can gently pull you from your spot by the window. “And I thought I was the dramatic one! Enough of that, silly. I have everything set up and ready for us!” 

You grin, all sharp teeth and delight. “Oh, sweet!” Your gaze roves over to the living room as Sun starts to guide you there. Sitting atop the little coffee table in front of the television are the unpackaged materials of the gingerbread house kit you’d bought a couple of days ago at Sun’s insistence. Once he had seen it in the store, he’d been rather adamant about getting it for one reason or another. 

(“Come on, Sunshine!” he practically begs you as he holds the kit up in front of your face and wiggles it enticingly. “It’s the perfect activity to do together!” 

“Mmmh, I don’t know, Sun,” you say, pretending like you’re thinking it over. You’d been sold on the idea as soon as you’d seen him pick it up, but it’s still fun to tease him from time to time regardless. Not that you’ll ever admit that out loud. “It gets pretty messy and I know how you can get with messes…” 

“It’ll be fun either way!” he insists, tucking the kit under his sweater-covered arm so he can clasp his hands together and stare at you with wide, white eyes. “Just think about it: you, moon, and I making a little house together out of frosting and candy!” His voice takes on a bit of a dreamy, enchanted quality.

You hum, letting the seconds tick by as you put on a show of heavily deliberating it. You rub at your chin with your fingers. “Okay, fine,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms behind your head. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“Yippee!” he cheers and swiftly sets the kit into your shopping cart. His rays do a happy little spin that you find so utterly endearing combined with his eagerness. “You won’t regret it!”) 

Sun lets go of your shoulder once you both get close enough to the coffee table and you set your mug on a nearby coaster before plopping down onto the floor. Tucking yourself closer to the table, you regard the pieces of gingerbread and small packets of candy.

“Have you and Moon decided on how you want to divide the work?” you ask as you slide one of the candy packs closer so you can squint at the designs. This pack contains little green gummy Christmas trees coated in granulated sugar. Cute.

Sun lets out an “mmhm!” as he folds himself into place next to you—pretzeling his long limbs into fitting under the coffee table. His knee juts out slightly over your thigh, and you poke at it gently with a grin. It only makes him lean his leg’s weight further onto you—the checkered pattern of his red and black pajama pants contrasting against the deep blue of your own.

“We have come to the agreement that I would help with assembling the house and we would both get half of it to help you decorate!” he says proudly, splaying out one of his hands on his chest. The Christmas sweater you’d gotten for him hangs a little loosely from his skinny torso, but it’d been the closest size you could get for his disproportionate body.

“Moon doesn’t want to help with the, I dunno, ‘architecture’?” you wonder with a raised eyebrow, making small air quotes with your fingers. 

“Nnnnope!” Sun replies cheerfully. He reaches out to pull the materials closer to you both, his voice lowering into a not-so-quiet whisper as he leans down closer to your ear. “Between you and me, I think he’s just being lazy.” 

Knowing fully well that Moon is likely listening in on the conversation, you snort. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.” 

Sun only grins at the flatness of your tone and turns back to the table. “Alrighty! Enough stalling! This house isn’t going to build itself!” He grabs the gingerbread kit’s packaging and flips the box over to read the instructions on the back of it. “First we need to add icing along the edges of the walls…” 

The instructions seem simple enough. While you pipe icing in the designated places, Sun carefully sticks the pieces together and holds them in place for a few minutes so they don’t immediately fall apart. The smell of gingerbread overtakes the gentle hint of cinnamon from your drink. The bag of icing in your fingers is soft and pliable from Sun having defrosted it in warm water earlier. 

Once three of the four walls of the gingerbread house are standing, the instructions say to let them sit for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the gingerbread house, however, Sun is not that patient. 

“Bud, it’s barely been ten minutes,” you say in amusement as you watch Sun start applying icing to the last wall to attach it to the others. 

He waves a hand at you in dismissal, already pressing the last wall firmly to the edges of the previously erected ones. “It’s fine, Friend! Everything is still standing on its own, I do not think we need to wait that long.” 

The hint of impatience you can glean from his voice makes you huff out a small laugh. “I thought you liked to follow instructions?” 

“Yes, well.” His rays tick back and forth as he holds the walls together to let the icing settle properly. “In this instance we can take them more as a suggestion.” 

You think he just really wants to decorate the gingerbread house itself, considering that’s his forte. Rolling your eyes, you drawl, “Alright, if you say so.” Who are you to stop him? Hopefully the icing holds properly, though you can’t help but warily eye the skeleton of a house as you fiddle with the chain of one of your necklaces. 

With all the walls of the gingerbread house now assembled, it leaves the slanted roof to be carefully placed on top. You add the icing to the two pieces in the required locations, then lick off the extra that had gotten on your fingers (it’s sweet, almost overbearingly so) while Sun meticulously joins the pieces together to complete the bare-bones gingerbread house. 

“Okay!” he says as his hands hover just above the top of the roof, scrutinizing it to make sure the pieces don’t slide off. Miraculously, they hold. You’re a bit impressed. “How much icing is left?”

You show him the piping bag in your hands, and he contemplates it for a moment before nodding. 

“Perfect! Hand it over.” He opens a hand and makes a grabbing motion that causes you to chuckle to yourself. He’s got his game face on, determination lining all the intricate metal and silicon features of his faceplate. You set the bag atop his palm, and he closes his long fingers around it. “Now for the fun part!” 

You end up watching as he carefully squeezes a steady stream of icing from the bag to trace the outlines of the doors and windows on one side of the gingerbread house. It’s a bit captivating; he is exact with his application, the lines of icing neat and straight. He offers the bag to you at one point to see if you want to add icing along the roof, but you decline in favor of sipping at your still-warm drink and watching him. 

“Wow,” you say when he finishes with the icing. “It looks straight out of a stock photo.” 

He’s iced exactly half of the house right down the middle—even the front door only has half of it done. He really is sticking to the fifty-fifty arrangement with Moon. And honestly? He’s done a better job than you can ever hope to imagine. You would be envious, but well, he’s a robot. It makes sense. 

Sun looks proud of himself as he sets the icing down. “Of course! I am nothing but precise!” He reaches over to grab a pack of small candied leaves and pops it open. “And now, the decor~” 

You lend a hand and pop open a candy packet yourself—this one has tiny, multi-colored hard chocolates in the shape of Christmas lights. But after lazily sticking some of them into the icing Sun swirled along the edges of the roof and watching him fiddle with them afterwards—making them neater or swapping some out so the colors are in a better arrangement—you decide to let Sun take care of it all. You designate yourself to supplying him with the candy, finding amusement in his concentration as he makes a direct copy of the image displayed on the gingerbread house’s package. 

It’s almost scary how accurate it is, from the loops of icing on the roof to the gumdrops lining the windows. 

“Aaand done!” Sun exclaims as he wipes his hands of icing on a spare napkin and stands up. He observes the house from all angles and gives it a solid nod. 

“Looks great, buddy,” you compliment as you lean against the table. By now, your mug of hot chocolate is empty, and you secretly mourn the loss. 

“Now all Moon has to do is live up to my highly placed expectations,” Sun says brightly as he walks over to the light switch. He pauses, then adds sarcastically, “As I’m sure he will.” 

You grin, following his movement with your eyes. “Aw, don’t put him down when he’s not even here to defend himself.” 

Sun scoffs and places one hand over the switch, while the other knocks gently at his head. “I assure you, he is not even attempting to.” 

With a flick of his fingers, the lights go out. You avert your gaze as you listen to the shifting metal of his body. The living room is dark, but not overtly so. The lights from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room are bright enough for you to see, but not so much that it will impede Moon, you think. 

Speak of the devil, you jump slightly when Moon plops himself down directly next to you and immediately leans into your space. 

“What a lovely gingerbread house,” he rasps out as his arm presses into your own, the bell of his nightcap brushing against your shoulder. You eye his expression—the mischief making itself known in the curve of his mouth and crinkle of his eyes. “Sure would be a shame if someone were to… mess it up.” 

“Moon,” you warn, shoving at him slightly so he can stop leaning all of his weight onto you. He relents with a snicker and rights himself properly. “Don’t you dare ruin Sun’s hard work.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he drawls with a sharp grin, slouching forward as he grabs the icing bag from where Sun had left it atop the table. “One might say I would improve upon it, actually.” 

“Somehow I heavily doubt that,” you reply flatly and watch as he squeezes the piping bag in his hands. Some icing shoots out of the tip and lands haphazardly on Moon’s side of the gingerbread house. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. You have a feeling you know how this is going to end up. 

“Shh,” he says and spins the plate holding the gingerbread house around so he can better access its bare sections. Red eyes flick over it with no small amount of slyness. “Let Santa Moon work his magic, Starlight.” 

Five minutes into watching Moon apply icing to his half of the gingerbread house, you realize by “magic” he meant “utter chaos.” 

He doesn’t even bother to make his lines neat—in fact he seems to be actively going out of his way to be as sloppy as possible. Whereas Sun was careful not to make too much of a mess on the table, Moon does not care. Icing gets everywhere. Crumbs from the gingerbread litter the area around the plate. You watch as a small ball of candy rolls off the table and lands somewhere on the plush rug covering the floor. Sun’s going to have a conniption with this—may already be having one, actually.

You’re more amused than anything, especially when Moon finishes with the icing and starts slapping the candy everywhere on the gingerbread house. There is no rhyme or reason to it, just utter vibes, you think. He passes you a packet of the tiny Christmas lights candy, and you join in helping him to decorate his half—trying to salvage it at least a little bit. 

The resulting gingerbread house, at the end of it all, is something that makes you break out into peals of laughter. 

“Oh god.” You chuckle, wiping your fingers off on a napkin. “It looks awful.” 

And indeed, where one side of the gingerbread house is neat and perfect, the other looks like it came straight from an elementary schooler’s nightmare craft project. The juxtaposition makes you snicker to yourself.

Moon grins, his eyes flicking down to his hands to observe the icing covering his fingers. Somehow, he’s gotten a dollop on his faceplate. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

You snort and gesture at him to lean down. He obliges, the warm light from his optics gently caressing your face as you reach up to wipe away the icing near his static smile with your napkin. And when you pull away, his faceplate almost seems to chase after your fingers before he stops himself and instead watches you attempt to clean up the table. 

“Okay, fun’s over,” you say lightly as you eyeball all the crumbs. It may be a good idea to run your vacuum around the table as well, considering. “Help me clean thi—” 

But before you can finish your sentence, your eyes catch onto the gingerbread house—that tips precariously to one side as the roof pieces start to slide inevitably downwards. 

“Oh shit—!” Your hands dart forward in an attempt to catch the falling pieces. Icing gets re-smeared all over your hands. Candy gets displaced as your fingers fumble around them. You do your best to straighten the gingerbread house, grimacing all the while. Ah, you had a feeling this was going to happen.

Moon giggles as he watches your vain struggle to fix what he and Sun had worked so hard on (Sun moreso than Moon). You manage to get it standing properly again, but one of the walls has collapsed completely and the others look like they aren’t faring any better now that the icing is giving in. 

You sigh, feeling a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I knew we should’ve waited the full fifteen minutes.” Not that you think that would have made much of a difference. 

“Down it goes~” Moon croons, not even lifting a finger to lend some assistance. His eyes are upturned in delight as he sways slightly side to side. “How the mighty fall.” 

“Yeah.” You pull your hands away and watch, slowly, as the gingerbread house collapses into itself and lays on the plate in a sad heap. Moon is silent as he watches with you, though you can tell he wants to laugh. It makes you suppress your own chuckle. “You think there’s any salvaging that?” 

“No,” is Moon’s short response as he pokes at one of the gummy Christmas trees, then picks it up to mime eating it. You do a nose exhale when his eyes flick over to you to see if you’re watching. 

“Well, what does Sun think?” you ask, feeling your lips twitch at his antics.

“He is mourning.” 

“Pfft, sorry Sun.” You make a move to run your hand through your hair, but catch yourself when you see the icing coating your fingers. “Ah, that’s okay. It was fun while it lasted! We can do something else.” You turn to look at Moon, who meets your gaze with his own curious one. “Any suggestions?” 

There is a moment where Moon regards you, his head tilting to the side. Then, you watch as his pupils flick down to his icing-covered hands before looking back up at you. His smile stretches across his faceplate. 

Oh. You know that look. 

“Moon,” you warn as you scooch away from him. “No. Don’t even think about it!” 

“Think about what?” he asks slyly, starting to lean your way. 

“Abou— Moon!” 

You are too slow to dodge his swipe at your face—icing gets smeared from the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. Faintly, you can register its sweet taste. Your jaw drops open at the audacity of it all, and you scramble up to your feet to put more distance between you and him lest he repeat the action. He doesn’t follow you, only slowly stands in his spot as you shuffle backwards whilst giving him the stink eye. 

“Moon, I swear to god if you do that shit again,” you threaten him as you hold your hands out defensively in front of you, “I’ll—” 

“You’ll what?” Moon asks with a mischievous grin, already bending at the knees in a pose that you are all too familiar with. Uh oh. His eyes squint into ruby slivers. 

Your mouth closes, and you ponder your options for a few seconds before giving him a short nod. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna run now.” 

“Good,” is all he says before he abruptly lunges towards you. 

And as Moon chases you throughout your home, the poor remains of the gingerbread house are forgotten and replaced by the sound of your laughter and the gentle tinkle of his bells.

[starboundpix]

day three ✧ beachcombing

inspired by the mermay prompt list @/muzzlemouths made!

"Come here," hisses the mer, midnight blue tail thrashing, tossing up a splash of seawater that never makes it anywhere close to you.

You don't spare Moon a glance, eyes focused on the sand and seaweed beneath your feet as you search for hidden treasures. "No, thank you, today is a stay dry day for me," you tell him, crouching down as something glints under the early morning sunlight. Lifting up a tangle of seaweed, you pick up a piece of light yellow sea glass, edges rounded out by the beating of waves and sand over time. As you hold it up to the light to admire how the sun makes it seem to glow from within, you say, "You don't have to stay and watch me, y'know? I'm just looking for pretty shells and glass. Besides, isn't it past your bedtime? Go to sleep, old man."

There's another splash, louder than the waves, and the accompanying snarled, "Brat," tugs your lips into a smile.

The next hour or so passes relatively peacefully as you continue across the beach, finding sea glass and intact shells, gently adding them to the growing collection forming in your bag. You can feel Moon's gaze on you all the while, red eyes squinting against the sun but still observing you from his location further in the ocean.

When the sun starts to get unbearably hot, you decide that you've done enough beachcombing for the day and move toward the end of the beach where the sand meets the rockier part of shore and the cliffs looming above provide some shade. You settle on the rocks, cooling your feet in the ocean, and pull out your water bottle.

As you drink, a splash of water signifies the emergence of Moon. He pulls himself out of the water enough for his upper body to rest on the rocks, propping his head up on his hands. He flicks his tail, sprinkling droplets of water onto your legs.

"Hey!" you protest, but there's no real heat in your voice.

Moon snickers and does it again. "Slowpoke."

Rolling your eyes, you start to dig through your bag to pull out the things you had collected from the beach in a mini show-and-tell that you always do, starting with the yellow sea glass you found first. "I like this one a lot," you tell Moon, placing it onto his palm, "because it glows when you put it up to the sun. It's also a very nice shade of yellow."

"Like Sunny," he says as he holds the sea glass up to the sky between two clawed fingers, squinting when it catches the light.

You squirm. "Well, yes, like Sun, I suppose." You hadn't thought about it when you first found the glass, but its particular shade matches that of a certain yellow mer's tail.

"Anyway," you say, quickly placing the next item—this one a small clamshell—onto Moon's hand. You explain what you like about it and why you decided to keep it, and he studies both you and the shell. He's a patient listener as you ramble about your findings for the day. By the time you reach the last item in your collection, his hands are full of your little shells and glass and pretty rocks. He cradles them carefully, the webbing between his fingers helping to make sure he does not drop a single one of your newfound treasures.

"This last one is another piece of sea glass, but look at how round it is!" You hold it up so Moon can see, rolling the near-perfect sphere between your fingers. "I don't think I've ever found such a nicely rounded one before. And look at its color, it's such a nice shade of blue. These dark blue ones aren't as common as the light blue ones."

Moon looks at the sea glass, takes in the deep blue color, and a wide grin stretches across his face. He tilts his head to the side, red eyes fixated on your face, and says, "You like dark blue, hm?" His tail lifts out of the water, sunlight showing the iridescent sheen on his scales, midnight blue fins flicking a bit more water on your lap before settling back into the ocean.

You stare. Your mouth opens, then shuts. Your face is hot, cheeks burning, but surely that is from the heat, surely.

It takes a few more seconds for your brain to properly function again and you pull your arm back toward yourself, stuffing the sea glass back into your bag. "I'll have you know that blue is my favorite color. I've always liked blue things and– don't let any of this get to your head!"

He laughs, a sound that warms you from the inside out. Moon carefully tilts his hands, spreading your trinkets onto the empty space beside you. "Stay," he demands, then pushes backward off the rocks in a beautiful arch and disappears into the ocean.

You're left speechless again, only able to stare at where the mer had just been.

Eventually, you start to pick up your little treasures and return them to your bag. Knowing that Moon probably would not tell you to stay if he would be gone for too long, you drink some more of your water and pull out a snack you had prepared for your beach activities today.

Soon enough, the blue mer reappears, pulling himself back onto the rocks with ease.

"Welcome back," you say. "Do you want to share why you disappeared after– after being so rude to me like this?"

Moon snickers. "Not rude. But I share this." He brings one of his hands up toward you, waiting for you to open your hand before he places whatever he was holding onto your palm. His claws scrape the slightest bit over your skin as he finally pulls back, sending a tingle up your arm.

Your eyes widen as you take in the shell that rests in your hand. “Moon, this is such a large shell!” It nearly covers your entire hand. The surface of it is rather rough, a mix of greys and browns with hints of green. Seven indents curve close to the outer edge of the shell.

You look up from the shell at the mer who gave it to you. “I’ve never seen something like this before! Thanks, Moon.”

The discontent on Moon’s face surprises you.

“No thanks, yet. Look at this.” He flips the shell over, so the curved inside is revealed to you.

“Oh,” you whisper. Although the inside of the shell is dark, deep blues shimmer under the light of the sun. Layers of lighter purples and silver thread through the ever changing blues. The colors are lovely and deep, reminding you of Moon himself. “It’s just like your tail. It’s gorgeous, I love these colors. Thank you for showing me this.” You look at the mer who has been intently studying your face the entire time. Stretching out your hand, you offer the shell back to him.

Moon shakes his head, an expression on his face that you can’t quite place, yet it makes you give him a sweet smile. His hand curls over your own, closing your fingers around the shell. “Keep. It’s yours.”

Your smile grows. “Really? Thank you, Moon! It’s my favorite shell now. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good.”

A moment passes where his gaze holds your own.

Then a wave crashes into the rocks and water drenches your legs and shorts, startling you with the coldness of it.

You scramble to your feet, hand clenched around the gift from Moon. ��I can’t believe it,” you whine, “Today was supposed to be a stay dry day.”

“Come swim,” Moon suggests, with a grin of sharp teeth.

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your bag, carefully adding your newest shell to your collection. “Nice try, Moon. I should head home to put this new beautiful shell I got on display. And you’re probably tired, old man.”

“Not old, brat!”

With a laugh, you hurry away from the edge of the rocks to avoid the incoming splash from Moon. “I’ll see you soon!” you shout, throwing a wave over your shoulder as you leave the mer.

Moon watches you go until you disappear, before diving under the waves. He can’t wait to see the look on Sun's face when he hears about you accepting Moon's shell.

note: the shell Moon gave Reader is actually a blackfoot paua shell! they are sooo gorgeous, i definitely recommend looking them up c:

mermay 2024 masterlist

[the-moon-files]

Aaaaa, hi!! I'm the anon who sent in the fairly recent ask with the Guide!Reader ideas (martial artist mention, Dehydrated Ganon, strength possibilities, Ganon not being able to escape from Guide!Reader's voice, etc)! I'm really glad that you liked my ideas so much!! 😊 I was so pleasantly surprised to see you expand on my discombobulated thoughts, haha! Thank you so much! ^w^ I loved reading them!!

I said that I made memes for the Guide!Reader/Space Orc concept, and now I shall deliver them >:D Firstly, I'm super sorry that I took so long to share these with you!! Life decided to kick me in the shins for a hot second 😭 And secondly, I made a LOT of images for this one,, Fair warning, this is going to take up a lot of space 😭 orz

But anyway!! Here are the text memes first:

Guide!Reader: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Wars: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Guide!Reader: Not when you’re playing with Zelda, it’s not. She’s out here putting in words like “ephemeral” while I’m putting in “dog.”

☆

Guide!Reader: *pointing out Magic Powder* Legend, look, it’s the good kush!

Legend: …This is the Rupee Store, how good can it be?

☆

Ravio: Hi, welcome! Are you part of our Super Savers Shoppers Club?

Guide!Reader: No, I’m not.

Ravio: :D :) :| Oh.

☆

Legend, looking into a banged-up Water Temple: …It’s trash.

☆

Time, whenever Guide!Reader uses modern slang: We need IRL subtitles. What are you even saying.

☆

Guide!Reader: My Furby died in my arms when I was a child.

Hyrule, has no clue what a Furby is: I’m so sorry for your loss.

Guide!Reader: It wasn’t a loss. I had never felt more like a god.

☆

The Chain: *getting told off by Time*

Guide!Reader in the back: …

Guide!Reader: *starts playing the ukulele* 👁👄👁 🎸

Time: 🧍

☆

Four, talking about Guide!Reader: So, I’m interested in someone…

Dot: :D Oooh! What do they look like?

Four: *slow realisation*

Four: I don’t know

Dot: Wh

Dot: What do you mean you don’t know?

☆

Guide!Reader/Ganon, about hearing Guide!Reader every dang game: The universe has a sense of humour, and I respect the commitment to the bit, but girl please.

☆

Guide!Reader, to Link once they reunite with the Chain: Now… *puts hand on his shoulder* We’re back on our bullsh*t.

☆

Guide!Reader and Wild, meeting Sidon for the first time:

Guide!Reader: …Would.

Wild: Would what?

Guide!Reader:

Wild: (Name)? Would what?

☆

Wind: When you become famous you’re called a legend because your leg ends.

Guide!Reader: What? 

Wind: Your leg. It ends.

Guide!Reader: I’m not a linguist, but I think you’ve got it wrong.

Wind: Are you saying your leg doesn’t end?

Guide!Reader: I mean, at some point it does, yes.

Wind: Then what’s the problem?

☆

The Chain, waking up at dawn to get ready:

Guide!Reader and Sky, just trying to process being alive:

☆

Guide!Reader/Time: You need to get out of bed faster than this.

Sky, struggling: I’m giving it all he’s got, boss

☆

Guide!Reader at Ganon: Your anger amuses me. Please don’t find inner peace. Please.

☆

Guide!Reader, playing through LoZ game: *at an annoying NPC* Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully? Quickly. :|

Link, trying not to laugh:

☆

Hyrule, probably: I hate it when a recipe tells me to add two cups of onions. They don’t come in cups. They come in onions.

Guide!Reader, head in hands: Please

☆

Hyrule/Twilight, looking at two NPCs: Are they lovers?

Guide!Reader, who knows the lore: Worse.

☆

The Chain, enjoying Guide!Reader’s affections:

Legend: 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

☆

Legend, defending himself from the “You like him” allegations from Wind: 🤸🤸🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

And now, onto the images- I hope you don't think the sheer amount of these memes is too excessive or anything!! 😭 /gen

Aaa and that's all the memes I've got! I hope you like them,,! orz

I'm also still pretty new to Tumblr, so I'm sorry if the format looks a bit weird,,

Oh, but also?? That last point you mentioned in your most recent post about the cultural differences between humans and Hylians on physical affection/touch?? I am VERY excited to see that,, 👀 👉👈 

U HAVE NO IDEA HOW IN LOVE W/UR BRAIN I AM RN

IM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC TO SEE THESE >>> ANYTHING IVE EVER WRITTEN U MADE MEMES??? FOR MY BS?????? DAOHGHOAKJSALKGFS;NDFKNDNFKJBDBFLN;

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BLESS YOU, BEHEAMOTH SCREAMOTH MY BELOVED <3333

HAVE THAT HYLIANS V. HUMANS AFFECTION CULTURE POST HERE, THE ONLY PAYMENT I CAN THINK OF FOR THIS 😩😩 🛐 🛐 🛐

I LIED ITS TOO LONG, ITS GONNA BE A SEPERATE POST COME BACK AND PLS READ IT AS PAYMENT (but dont read the nsft/w if ur a minor)

BRO u got all the energy, and the dynamics i was pushing ilysm 🥺🫶

like the Hyrule = beloved agenda ive been pushing, bc i need more underrep links content, the way u carried the ganon eternally getting haunted by guide reader voice?? 10/10 ahdsfkhadl

AND WIND’S CONSTANT ENERGY OF A YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKIN U DEAD IN THE EYE LIKE “u kiss the homie (singular not even plural) goodnight?? Brother, that’s GAEY.”

u have no idea what this means to me, the impact, the understanding u have to have of my bs to make these, and how many posts youve read of mine?? im so sorry for ur loss w/my rough writing lmao

thats how you know youve made it tbh is if someone makes memes of smth u made, anyway day brightened, complexion clear, depression medicated, by this post

I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF UR PILLOW ARE COLD, UR PETS CUDDLE U EXTRA, U GET ALL THE GRADES/GOOD WORK SHIFTS U NEED

Peace out my beloved <3,

🌙

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Babbit’s Smooch-a-Boi series,,,,,, pt1: (it was, in reality, not fine) Sun/Moon x Reader AU

I’m gonna draw some smooches for each of th fellas in every one of my aus and not a single one of u can stop me. Starting off with (it was, in reality, not fine) bc I gotta

[soggystreamer28]

Fanfic update! It’s going…

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Hello again, 2 months have passed since I made that commission and today I come to ask for another of the same characters (Yes, sorry xd). Headcannons for Morgan, Sith, Melusine and Barghest with a depressed Master, how would they react to this and how would they help him.(Oh and one question, apart from Fate, would you make commissions related to other Type-Moon franchises? (Tsuhikime, Mahoyo and Knk) because I'm interested in ordering something related to Shiki (R), Arcueid and Aoko, Thanks)

(I will take literally any excuse to write for the Fae, especially Barghest and Baobhan Sith, and sorry that it took so long to get this back to you, I was trying to decide if I should go off my own experiences with Depression or if I should base it around a more… I dunno generalized(?) version of it, oh and to answer your question, I’d be more than open to writing for other Type Moon franchises! Also I couldn't find any good images for everyone sorry!)

Morgan Le Fay

Morgan Le Fay, the queen of all Fae-kind is many things.

A woman who provides the image of someone who is unshakeable and unbreaking.

A woman who has to do so, because that is what is expected of a monarch.

A woman who takes everything vulnerable about her and locks it away from even those closest to her.

Then you called her forward.

Someone who could manage to slip into the box where she keeps her weakness, wounds, and insecurities hidden.

Someone who could see past the masks she wears.

Someone who can hold her and say “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay.” and she’ll believe it.

But one day, she noticed something different about you.

How there was a lack of… fire in your eye.

How you spent more and more time alone, and what time you didn’t spend alone was spent almost entirely with her.

How you lacked energy.

How you seemed subdued.

How you tried to avoid people.

And one day.

How you just broke down as you were sitting down and doing nothing.

In that moment, all of her composure, all of her masks broke like glass.

And not knowing what else to do, she did what you would do when she would do the same.

She was crying while doing so, she was crying as she held you and told you “It’s okay, It’ll all be okay.”

And despite how her words lacked almost all of her usual power behind them, you believed her.

Because Morgan Le Fay is many things.

Your Queen.

Your servant.

The woman who loves you.

The woman you fell in love with.

And the woman who will do anything to repay the kindness you offered to her when you slipped past her guard and into her heart.

Just so she can continue to see your smile.

Baobhan Sith

Baobhan Sith is the most stubborn person you will ever meet.

In a way that’s part of her charm.

It’s also one of the worst things about her.

She will never admit when she needs help.

No matter how heavy the pressure placed upon her is.

No matter how much strain is placed on her.

She is the future queen after all, she has to be strong.

But her refusal to let anyone in will come back to bite her.

Or it would’ve if someone just as stubborn as her didn’t summon her one day and decide to break through her shell.

Needless to say it took quite a while to get through to her.

But when you did, Baobhan found the world was a much easier place to live in.

Having someone she can trust with everything.

It was liberating to her, not having to hold everything in.

So when she started to notice you holding things in from her she would not stand for it.

She forced her way in, just like you did for her.

Regardless of what you said to her she knew what was lies and what was truth.

And until you and her both left everything bare for each other to see.

She wouldn’t stop. 

Melusine

Melusine is a loner.

She never really vibed with others.

Always on a slightly off wavelength to everyone else.

Perhaps it was because she was a dragon.

Or maybe it was just how she was.

But to connect with another, that was something Melusine desired more than anything.

To have someone willingly share their warmth.

To have a partner who would listen as she gushed about the things she loved, the things she hated, everything.

To have a partner she would listen to as they gushed about the things they loved, the things they hated, everything.

But a desire was all it was.

At least until she met you.

Because when she met you, got to know you, got to see what made you tick.

She knew she had found the partner in crime she had been looking for.

And she also knows when something is wrong with her partner.

Barghest

Barghest is someone who fears getting close to people.

It is something that she has spent her entire life as a Fae Knight avoiding.

Despite her inherent desire to have a group she can lean on and a group who can lean on her.

Eventually she learned to allow the other knights in to a degree but not in the same way she craved to do so with another.

To have a home in someone’s heart and to give someone a home in her heart.

To have someone who she can cook for and to have someone who will cook for her.

To have someone who she can care for and to have someone who can care for her.

It was a hopless dream for a knight like her to have, but still it was a dream she cherished.

Yet one day by sheer luck she happened to meet a certain someone who managed to grab her attention.

You.

You were someone quite interesting to Barghest.

And eventually that interest turned to something more.

To something where she wanted to share in her dream with you.

To something where she wanted to share her heart with you.

And when your heart aches, when you are shaken and the darkness of the world begins to crush you.

Know that you will always have not only one of the Fae Knights, not just a member of the Fang Clan, but someone who you share your heart with and someone you can lean upon no matter what.

Oh and if you even try to think of standing alone, know that Barghest will refuse to allow that to happen.

It is in her nature after all.

[justaninsomniac]

What's up? Back at you guys again with another "randomly posting to say" I think I'm starting to slowly become obsessed with Gilgamesh, and no I don't mean the actual real life depiction of Gilgamesh. I mean Caster Gilgamesh from Fate Grand Order he's so hot! Also I've been reading one to many x readers lately. The fact he's hot, mildly cocky, but actually a tiny bit respectful. Makes him even hotter

[jack-o-cel]

Funky lil doodle

Bonus:

[aangelfreckles]

So who are the villains in your twin ruler au

THANKS FOR THE ASK!! <3

So the villains I would say right now are most of the general public. Their great dislike for either Sun and Moon replacing Freddy or just royals in general can be down right dangerous sometimes, with assassination attempts occurring like an average Tuesday and such-

But not all hope is lost! Word is spreading through town that our twin rulers are hosting a ball! Open to any status of the public to join such a luxurious event! Showing that they mean no harm and just want to show that they care and have the publics best interest in heart

This ball will hopefully have the public see Sun and Moon in a new light, and maybe it'll work:)

But sadly, there's always a bigger threat roaming just past the mountains

I may have mentioned the two main threats before ;3

[the-incorrect-quotes-show]

Update: bloodmoon is back and he has a knife

also he can drive now

well they cant do that now th eyre fucking dead

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Okay so I'm seeing a lot of 'Sun sucks at cooking he he can't make cereal properly leave the cooking to Moon he's the best at it' in domestic aus

And that's great! I love that idea! But consider the following: absolutely none of you know anything about cooking.

I mean, sure, Sun's been cutting apple slices with peanut butter for so long he's got it down to an art, and his PB &J sandwiches are to die for. Moon's got directions to make tea and applesauce and instant jello for the kids that they share in their headspace. But that's pretty much the limit for their cooking expertise. So put them near a toaster? Yeah, they can figure it out. A microwave? Moon put a fork in it to see what would happen after Sun saw something about it online and got to 20 seconds before you slam into the kitchen and shut it off. And then talk their audio receptors off by scolding them for putting metal in the microwave and being in the kitchen without your supervision.

All you have to send them is a look and they decide to leave the oven alone.

Speaking of your skills...

Well.

While you're no 'master chef', you've picked up enough to scrape by. A few years on your own will do that to you. Compared to what your boys know, you're practically a god in the kitchen.

So you, with your grand total of maybe 15-20 recipes (half of which have cottage cheese or yogurt incorporated into them) are appointed head of the kitchen.

You're really only slightly better than the boys, but you at least know how to turn on a stove. Still, your skill level is really only enough to make the same few meals throughout the week. So, you all decide to figure it out together.

You look up some recipes online, grab some stuff from the store and dump it all onto the counter. The ingredients are nothing you haven't seen before (the boys regard the flour as some foreign and ancient play-doh from the stone ages), but you can't remember the last time you bought some of this stuff.

After you take in the wonders of vanilla extract and brown sugar, you pick something hopefully easy enough that it'll be impossible to mess up. Cookies aren't that hard. You remember making them when you were younger, and they usually came out alright.

You also remember that you were 9 and had adult supervision to make sure you didn't screw up.

And now you're the most competent adult in this operation.

You try not to picture the apartment going down in flames.

It doesn't actually go terribly. You manage to handle it pretty well, all things considered. Moon grabs your wrist before you pour the eggs into the flour, reminding you that you're supposed to do your dries, then your wets, and then your chips. You're pretty sure he only reminded you so he can keep sneaking chips into his cheeks when you're not looking, but you let him have it. You also elect not to say anything when you catch them pouring more chips into the bowl when you're not looking.

Sun spends the entire time obsessing over the shape of the cookies, making sure they're all perfectly rounded and spread out on the pan. Moon wedges a chocolate chip deep into the center of a few of them, watching his brother panic over the now 'ruined' cookies. He gets over it eventually, though, joining his brother in front of the oven to watch the dough rise and expand as the torturous waiting for them to bake begins. You pull out the tray and inspect your work.

They're...not that bad, in all honesty. There are little things that could be improved, but otherwise, you're pretty proud of your guy's progress.

You're not as happy about the mess, though. It looks like a hurricane has stormed through your kitchen, a fact that is quickly brought to the attention of your boys as they scramble to wipe down countertops and toss eggshells away.

...

I dunno how to end this cuz my endings suck so there it is, thank you for attending my ted talk.