#moth writes

[halfmoth-halfman]

the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

part two. part three. part four.

The first time is purely by accident. 

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise. 

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork. 

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed. 

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?” 

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly. 

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later. 

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.” 

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes. 

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary. 

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back. 

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway. 

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod. 

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man. 

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office. 

-

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened. 

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard. 

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others. 

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after. 

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep. 

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

-

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church. 

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry. 

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated. 

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice. 

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church.” 

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade. 

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. 

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

-

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back. 

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out. 

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife. 

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm. 

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you. 

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.” 

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg. 

-

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow. 

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug. 

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

-

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from. 

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain. 

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself. 

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever. 

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

A Penny for Your Thoughts (Ace x Reader)

A/N: While I love cocky, confident Ace, I felt like the softer, more damaged side of him deserved some love too <3

Summary: Ace has been feeling a bit low lately, and has been isolating from Reader, and the crew. Reader goes to talk to him, and a rather emotional interaction ensues. Please see warnings.

Warnings: Ace is having an emotional, and vulnerable moment. Ace struggling with his self-worth. Mentions of alcohol usage.

Writing prompt:

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

"I don't know... But can you do it again?"

Tags: Ace x Reader, angst & comfort, Ace dealing with self-worth issues

Word count: 2900

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

You and Ace had been close friends for quite some time now. Very close, actually. Not quite as close as you’d have liked to be, but that did not matter much, as long as you had his friendship. Yes, if nothing else, his friendship was enough. 

Lately though, your friendship seemed to have been somewhat shaken. For some reason, Ace had been distancing from you, and all others lately. Sure, he’d still act fine when people talked to him. But that was not quite the way it used to be… The Ace you’d known so far was a bit of a chatter box - that is, when he was not fast asleep on the deck, or with his face in a plate of food. He loved to socialise with the crew, and was always offering to help wherever he felt he could be of any use. He’d often be engaged in some conversation or another, swapping tips and tops, cracking jokes, or regaling his men with tales. Now, however, he’d rather lean over the railing, gazing at the sea, lost in thought, or sit alone, isolated, than engage with others. He’d slip out during group conversations, or spend hours shut in the study, haunched over maps, and documents, working his way through endless stacks of paperwork - a task he’d always dreaded more than any other. It was not quite the same, no. 

It would be a lie to say it did not worry you. Ace was your best friend, and, if you were being honest with yourself, he was a bit more than that. It was only natural for you to notice, to miss him, and to worry. You couldn’t bring this up around others - it was clear it was not something he’d want broadcast in front of a crowd. So, you decided to speak to him as soon as you’d catch him alone. It shouldn’t be too hard. Afterall, he tended to seclude himself every chance he got those days. So, you waited. Ace had spent most of the day in the study. At lunch, there was not enough privacy to speak to him, so you let it slide. Afterwards, he disappeared, and you had no idea where. 

Eventually, night had fallen, and the Whitebeards were having a party on the main deck. It seemed like your plan would have to wait another day. The crowd grew and grew, as the music played, and the booze flowed. It was not unusual for pirates to party, and the parties on the Moby Dick never disappointed. Or at least, they never had, until this point. For, as expected, you could not find Ace anywhere in the crowd, and a party without him simply felt incomplete. 

You spent some of the night gliding through the crowds, slipping from clique to clique, from conversation to conversation, eventually setting camp up by yourself by the refreshments table. You sighed as you scanned the swaying masses, as they sang, and danced, and chatted… as if they hadn’t even noticed. 

“Hey,” came a voice from behind you, as a hand gently grasped your shoulder. You turned around to find Marco, and Thatch. Thatch had a compassionate smile on his face, and, while Marco didn’t show it on his lips, the same compassion, and understanding could be read in his eyes as he looked down at you, secluded as you were, camping alone by the booze. 

“We know,” he says softly. You tilt your head sideways, questioning him with a silent look. 

“You must be thinking we hadn’t noticed how Ace has been drawing himself back lately,” he starts, as he takes his hand off your shoulder, and turns to look at the merry-makers. “How can the crew party as if they don’t even notice? But we do notice. We all do.” Now that he mentioned it, it dawned on you that Ace’s presence was not the only absence here tonight - a certain carefreeness seemed to escape many that night, and certainly those close to Ace - you, the commanders, Pops, and the men of his division. Now that you were aware of it, you saw it nearly everywhere - in their eyes, as they, too, scanned the crowd; on their lips, curled in half-smiles; on the very countenance of their bodies. They could all tell something - or rather, someone - was missing that night. 

“We were hoping a party might draw him out,” joined Thatch. “The plan was to get some booze in him, and hope it’ll loosen him up enough to tell us what’s wrong - how we can help. But, as you can see…” 

“He didn’t show,” finished Marco. 

“He never showed up,” you said simultaneously. 

“Yup…But!” he added with excitement, and you saw a smile creep on Marco’s face as he turned to look at you once more. 

“We got one more thing we’d like to try.” 

“Ah, and that is where I come in, I presume?” You turned to look at them, swirling your drink, as you waited for them to continue. 

“Yep,” they confirmed in unison, before Marco proceeded to explain. “See, we found him sulking alone on the quarterdeck. Seems he came out for the booze, but didn’t stick around for the company.” 

“Ouch! Well, that’s flattering,” you remarked jokingly, knowing full well it was nothing personal. 

“Yeah, well, he won’t talk to us,” explained Thatch. 

“Yep, we’re clearly part of the ‘company’ he seems to be avoiding… Which brings us to your part.” 

“Ah, I get it. You want me to go up there, and see if I fare any better than you two.” 

Thatch was smiling, while Marco chuckled at your deduction, giving you a small smirk. 

“No,” he answered, “we know you’ll fare better than us.” The small, lopsided grin on Marco’s face made you cock an eyebrow for an instant, but you quickly brushed it off, as Thatch joined in once more.

“Yeah, we know you two are close. Hell, no one’s closer to him than you, except maybe his brothers,” added Thatch, matter-of-factly. 

“So, what we want from you is to go up there and bring him back to Earth.” 

You looked at them - they clearly cared about him, and were now resting their hopes on you, giving you a chance to help. They were giving you a chance to speak to him alone about whatever it is that’s been bothering him, just the way you’d told yourself you’d do. You glanced at your drink, swirling it around some more. Thatch’s words about how close you and Ace were made you feel warm inside. Maybe there was hope for you yet… But now was not the time for that. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked up at your fellow conspirators. 

“Leave it to me!” you declared, shooting them a grin. 

“I knew we could count on you,” cheered Thatch, with a big smile, while Marco kept on his usual lazy smirk, giving you a small nod. They refilled your drink, and shoved a beer for Ace in your hands, before ushering you to the quarterdeck. 

You took a deep breath trying to calm your nerves, before you strutted off, shouting over your shoulder “Wish me luck!” 

“Good luck!” the guys responded, as you disappeared behind a corner. 

It was a warm night, and the skies were clear, revealing a veritable sea of stars above your head, complete with a bright full moon, and with nary a  cloud in sight. The music from the party was fading as you walked further and further away, towards the quarterdeck; its spritely rhythms now barely enough to muffle the clicking sound of your footsteps on the wooden planks. 

Indeed, way in the back, hidden out of sight, was Ace. Slumped on the deck, with his back resting against a wall, a couple of empty beers around him, and one bottle hanging by the neck in his hand. His head tilted upwards, his eyes fixed on the stars above him. He seemed so calm, so quiet, and yet, not serene in the slightest. It was as if the silent sorrow in his soul crept its way towards you, and took you by the hand, when his eyes suddenly turned to you. A smile made its way onto his lips, but failed to reach his tired eyes. ‘Had he been crying?’ 

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” Ace tried to act cheerful, and play pretend; he tried to hide his expression by finishing his drink, but you knew him far too well for that, and saw right through his act. 

“I heard you were out here,” you confessed as you went to sit down by his side, handing him the beer. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” you continued, as Ace took the bottle from your hand, “and I missed you. We’ve all been missing you.” You spoke softly, your voice barely above the sounds surrounding you - the music, the clamour from the main deck, with the clanging of beer-filled mugs, and the familiar sounds of waves splashing rhythmically against the sides of the ship. Ace averted his gaze from you, lest you saw the truth in his eyes. But you already knew. You’ve seen it the moment he looked your way. 

Shuffling around a bit, you shifted position, and made yourself more comfortable against the wall, by his side. You allowed a moment to pass in silence, not intending to come off too forcefully, as you both watched the stars twinkling above your heads. You took a sip of your drink. The sloshing of liquid punctuated the silence before you spoke. 

“Care you tell me what’s got you so down? Hm?” you questioned, as gently as you could. Slowly, you turned your head towards him, giving him a side-look, and a soft, half-hearted smile as you waited for his response. 

Ace pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them; the bottle you’d given him still hanging in his hand. He thought he hid it better than that, even from you. But he should have known you’d see right through, and if he were being honest with himself, deep down, he was glad you did. He needed you to pull him out of the spiralling nightmares that had become his thoughts. But that didn’t make it any easier to get the words out. 

Ace rested his chin on his arms, staring straight ahead, at nothing in particular, as his mind scampered to string words together. Though his mouth was hidden behind one of his arms, you could see he was working on an answer by the frown that weighed on his brow. A few moments passed in silence before you placed your hand on his shoulder blade, gently rubbing his back. His eyes darted up to yours, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open, before closing it again, and averting his gaze once more. The warmth of your hand on his skin was comforting, safe, inviting; inviting him to tell you of his woes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, barely audible over the commotion of the party on the main deck. 

“What for?” 

“For making you worry… You, and Marco, and Thatch, and Izou, and Pops, and all the others…I’m sorry for shutting you all out these past few days… weeks. I’m just…” Ace paused for a moment, as he turned his head away from you again, and fixed his eyes on the swaying waves before him. “I… haven’t been myself lately, is all.” 

“Ace, it’s alright. We’ve all got our darker days. It’s - “ 

Ace draws a shaky breath, before cutting you off. “I know it’s not fit for a commander - t’ give in like that, and shut you all out. I should have done better… You all deserve better…” 

The hand that was rubbing his back froze in place, as you stared at him in shock - eyes wide, and slack jawed - struggling to believe the words you were hearing. Seeing Ace crumbling down like this certainly struck a chord. You and Ace were close, but this was a side of him you’d never seen before. Was this the same daredevil you’d grown so used to over time? Sure, you were aware that he wasn’t always that same cocky bastard. You knew he had a softer side too, and you knew he was damaged too. You knew that he struggled with his past - his ancestry, especially - wondering if he really deserved to be where he was, and be loved as he was. Sometimes he’d wondered if maybe he could have done more for Luffy - if he was a good older brother. Other times he wondered if he was doing right by Pops, and the other Whitebeards. You knew all of this, and then some. But you’d never seen him so broken before. How long had he been carrying this stone around his neck? At a loss of words, all you could do was stare at him - lips trembling as you tried to form words; throat tightening, as you tried to hold back tears. 

“I’m sorry you’re missing out on the party to sit here with me,” he continued, “but I also wanna say thank you. Thank you for your time, and thank you for your company.” He adjusted his sitting position, stretching out the leg nearest to you and allowing it to bend to the side, as his arm hung over his bent knee.. “I hope you know how much I value your friendship… despite the past couple of weeks… And thanks for the drink too,” he chuckles, a bittersweet smile on his face as he takes a swig, before quickly resuming his monologue. “And thank Marco, and Thatch too for trying to cheer me up. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you guys. Y’all deserve better than someone like me,” he trailed off. His head briefly dipped down against his arm, before he quickly lifted it up, and tilted it back against the wall. It was as if he were afraid that if he allowed his head to hang like that he might break down, and cry. His lips curled, and trembled with a bittersweet smile. You watched as his brows furrowed, and the corners of his mouth twitched, before he covered his eyes with his hand. From his shaking lips came a sound hard to pinpoint. Was it a sob? A scoff? A chortle? Whatever it was, it clearly captured his inner turmoil. 

Seeing him like this disarmed you completely. You gawked at him for a moment longer, unaware that large, warm tears had started spilling from your eyes, down your cheeks, and down your neck. You watched him shake his head, as if in disbelief of the situation too - in disbelief of the things he’s said, of having allowed someone to see him like that. 

The shock still prevented you from forming proper sentences, but you could no longer sit by silently. “Ace…” 

Hearing his name carried on a breathy whisper snaps him out of his spiral, and pulls his attention towards you. Ace hardly had time to register the pained look on your tear-stained face, before you cupped his cheeks in your hands, and pressed your lips against him. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing out the tears past your lashes. The kiss felt hot, with a thick blend of love, and pain; with all the laden words that have spilt, and all those that would not come; with all emotions that you both had been trying to hide. It wasn’t long before you slowly pulled away from him, keeping his face between your palms.The kiss may not have lasted long, but it was enough to get him to shut up, and cease his self-deprecatory verbiage, if only for a moment. You took a moment to scan the shocked, and flustered expression on his freckled face before speaking. 

“I’ll decide what I deserve,” you stated, finally letting go of his face. 

You watched as Ace, who seemed perfectly stupefied by your little stunt, attempted - and failed - to pull his wits about him. 

“Did… Did you just kiss me?” He looked cute as a button as he pointed at himself, confused, as if trying to comprehend even his own question. You chuckled at his reaction. 

“Was I not supposed to?” You may have chuckled at his reaction, but the truth is that you did it on an impulse, and now the reality of it all was setting in for you too. You’d had a crush on him for ages now, and never in a million years would you have imagined things going this way. But what’s done is done, and this was the moment of truth. Every moment it took for him to answer felt like an eternity, as you kept wondering - What was he going to do? What was he going to say? You couldn’t help but avert your eyes from his, as you felt a blush creep onto your face. You cursed the full moon for its glow so bright, for you were nearly sure Ace could see the deep pink darkening your cheeks. 

“I don’t know, but… Can you do it again?” 

Looking up, you found Ace watching you, expectantly, with a soft, albeit nervous, smile, and a blush to rival your own.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d say you deserve some more.”

[moth--blood]

Obey Me × MC with chronic migraines

[ ft. the 7 brothers (seperate), Diavolo, Barbatos ]

cws: fluff mostly, brief nsfw ref with Asmo

Lucifer

the most consistent of the brothers with getting your meds and not panicking, more importantly

he tends to get small headaches from overworking, so he offers his meatheads to make you feel better if you don't have any practical ones ("no, im not letting you chug a gallon of chocolate milk thats not going to help. ..what do you MEAN thats worked before???")

insists on you laying down and resting in his room until you feel better. doesn't matter how often it is, he always makes you stop whatever you're doing to go rest

will play his softer records while you sleep in hopes it'll help the migraine go away faster

Mammon

panics, first and foremost.

are you broken? dying? humans are fragile MC don't laugh at him he's WORRIED

especially worried if you describe the pain as stabbing. for a second he genuinely thinks you're being stabbed by some Witch's voodoo doll of you. that concern never fully leaves

his worry turns to pampering when he's realized you're not, in fact, being stabbed through a doll, and now he's full of questions

will suggest anything and everything he can think of to help you, from the lights to kisses. doesn't matter he WILL try it

Levi

in awe you came to him about being in pain before anything else

awkwardly offers to let you sleep in his tub, and to get you meds or something else you might ask for

if the lights in Henry's tank bother you he'll put blankets over the tub so you don't have to look at them so directly

if physical contact helps and you ask him to lay with you he will lose his fucking mind. he'll do it but he'll be stiff as shit for several minutes before finally relaxing

offers to read his/your favorite manga to you if the noise wont be a bother

surprisingly really fucking clingy when you're so reliant on him. it makes him feel special

will play the lofi or quiet anime music that helps him sleep if the noise won't bother you. he figures if it helps him sleep it might help you not be in pain :)

Satan

also in awe you chose to come to him with this, especially if it's NB!Satan. he takes less time to process than Levi though

makes a big show of tucking you into his bed to rest, offers to get you tea and to read to you if the noise isn't an issue

if lights are a trigger dont even worry about it his room is dark as fuck!

he pampers you a bit less than Mammon does, but he still insists on getting you things and doing stuff for you.

takes very quick notice of your triggers, and does his best to help you avoid them!

zero hesitation will yell at the others for possibly accidentally causing another attack he gets protective quick.

Asmo

immediate pampering he doesn't need to be told twice

"oh, you don't feel good? here let me take care of EVERYTHING today don't even worry about it"

if scents are a trigger and his soaps or perfumes/colognes get a migraine going he will not stop apologizing. he feels AWFUL

dims all his lights and does his best to neutralize all the smells in his room, insisting you stay and let him take care of you

will also try everything he can think of, or at least suggest it

he's not the biggest fan of the idea of doing stuff to you while you're in pain but if that helps you he'll try it. but you gotta tell him the second it starts getting worse because the pampering will continue exactly where it left off

Beel

he's so worried :(

also lowkey thinks you're dying so he's extra careful with you.

will do anything you ask bro is at your beck and call when you don't feel good

akin to everyone else he'll bring up anything he can think of that might help

more than willing to cuddle you into feeling better if you ask.

gets Lucifer to bring you meds because he doesn't wanna leave you alone, and if you're not the biggest fan of taking them he'll stare at you with the biggest puppy eyes until you do

Belphie

pulls you upstairs to the attic and insists on you sleeping it off, even if that doesn't always work

a big cuddler so he doesn't mind holding you if physical contact helps

goes and gets you medicine and a drink without even being asked, and if you question or tease him about it he'll just mutter something about wanting to sleep in peace without you complaining about your head

he's just worried don't let him fool you again

very observant with your triggers and when you're around bright lights or loud noises, for example, too long he'll pull you aside and quietly ask if you're still feeling okay. if it's a yes he'll pretend he never asked and if it's a no, he'll pull you back to the attic pft

Diavolo

also thinks you're dying at first. i mean, for all he knew you were! Solomon hardly counts as human so imagine his absolute panic when his first actual human starts complaining of excessive brain pain. several times.

after you've been around a while though, he's super calm about it

words cannot express how quickly he goes "oh okay! here, drugs"

does keep your medicine on him basically constantly, just in case!

takes you to his room or to an unused room in RAD so you can rest for a little bit, and if it's bad enough at RAD he'll just fucking leave to take you home lmao

doesn't fully understand still, but he's doing his best! it's the thought that counts even if he's unknowingly making it just a little worse </3

Barbatos

also keeps your medicine on his person after a while.

memorizes your list of triggers and things that help as soon as he realizes you get migraines at all. he uses his power to find when you mention said lists and if you ask, he'll just smile and tell you not to worry about it

also tends to pull you aside when you're around your triggers for a while to make sure you're alright. regardless of answer he reminds you he has your meds if you need them

if warm drinks or comfort foods help, he figures out how to make them and when pretty fast. he likes being efficient at getting your pain to go away as soon as possible

[alittlemoth]

Hello!

May I request holly Dark Cacao cookie with a s/o who is a white fluffy feathered dragon who is very lazy. Like Dark Cacao probably has to drag them into battle. And was definitely puff up their feathers when mad or is defending something

Hope your doing great! <333

A dark cacao request! Sure thing anon!

Dark cacao x lazy! dragon! reader.

A dragon. Fierce, powerful, deadly, they fly through the sky looking for their next victim.... Is what most people would think hearing the king of the Cacao Kingdom is with a dragon, but no he fell in love with and married a "lazy sack of feathers"

Witches help him, in a kingdom full of warriors, strength, and active citizens..... You are the dragon of the snowy cliffs, a relatively peaceful dragon so long no one harms those you deem your friends... With no obvious threats around you do what most reptiles do... Rest. Now resting itself is not what bothers the mighty king, he understands that rest is good for the body the mind and the soul. It's the fact that when there is a fight that needs your abilities you still wish to rest....

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You hear your name. Then footsteps then your name again. "It's an emergency oh great dragon! Twenty seven yetis and a snow lion have started attacking the wall!" You barely move your tail only flicking in acknowledgment. You mumble out a reply "yes that is troubling, but nothing the watchers can't handle" you yawn, stretch, and then turn to the watcher sent to you. A young one, probably still designated as the messenger. "If it was bad enough where you really needed me, my husband would have come and woken me-"

Speak of the cakes you hear him coming up the stairs your name yelled by the king. "What are you doing you lazy sack of feathers, it's time you get up it is that bad!" You don't move. "Do the thing and I'll go" the king motions to the watchers that have gathered to leave, but you command they stay, much to your husband's horror. "If it's that bad, do. The. Thing." He sighs looking at the five watchers who have come to see what the 'thing' that only he can do.

The king sighs, comes closer to you rests his head on you and whispers "my dove, my love, my star. I will..." He hesitated wondering if he had to do this, then he saw your eyes so excited and continued "I will rest and take a day off with you if you come help" you look expecting more and when it doesn't come you motion for him to continue, he sighs "and i will cuddle with you all day" you grin finally getting what you wanted! It's not like he wasn't affectionate he's actually very cuddly and sweet... He just doesn't want citizens to know that he's the clingy one in private. You got up to take care of the issue.

And then the next day, you get your day off with hubby. Dark Cacao gets a day off that he desperately needed, and you get to be the big spoon for once! It was perfect and now that his watchers know that he's cuddly you get more public affection! It was a great couple of days.

[marcos-scorpion]

Do I look good, Mr Armstrong? - Marcus Armstrong x Reader

hihihi! So turns out quite a few people were interested in this when i posted to ask, so here it is ! This was just gonna be mega fluff announcing your relationship, but apparently I’m incapable of writing just fluff, so this is angst with a happy ending. Defo not my best work, but I love this sm so i hope you do to. Also! Requests are open for f1/f2/motorsports now i guess! Xoxo moth

Warnings- angst to fluff. Relationship doubts (that are wrong). Secret relationship.

Word count- 1.8k

——

Watching James and Clem pose for the silly TikTok that Marcus was making, you let out a little chuckle, as a stupid plan began to form in your head, mind whirring as you tried to figure out what your boyfriend’s opinion on the matter would be. Snapping out of your little daydream of Marcus’ possible responses to your dumb scheme, you ducked your head off his shoulder just in time for him to flip the camera to himself to end the TikTok. 

No one knew about your relationship with the beautiful boy seated beside you, not even his close friends and podcast co-hosts sat across from the pair of you. To the world, you were Marcus’ close childhood friend, the only person that could keep his life on track. His team saw you as his personal assistant, the rest of his friends jokingly calling you his slave. In reality, you took the job to work for him to ensure you could be close to him, to travel the world with the love of your life at your side, watching him do what he loves. 

After almost three years as a secret couple, and over fifteen years as inseparable best friends, seeing you two close in public wasn’t rare. No one questioned you leaning against him, plenty of childhood photos had circulated the Internet to prove that it wasn’t a new development. When photos of this meal inevitably ended up plastered across the twitter trending page, they would be compared to those childhood photos, as they are every time a photo of the pair of you is posted online. The difference now, is no one could see your ankle looped with Marcus’, his hand placed firmly on your upper thigh. 

Marcus’ desperation to keep your relationship hidden was a sore spot in your lives. Between his obvious following, and the collection of fans you had amassed across different social media, both with and without his help, there would be a small meltdown at the reveal of your relationship, especially after being hidden for so long. Marcus claimed it was to keep you safe, but you can’t help but feel that he’s ashamed of you, no matter how much he argues against it. 

You were no stranger to the hate that comes from even being associated with people in careers like Marcus, let alone the hate that came from your own career in social media. You knew you could handle petty people telling you Marcus deserved better from behind a screen. It was an ongoing point of contempt in your relationship, with the most recent argument about the topic leaving an iciness over the two of you even now. 

In public, very little had changed, but in private, the quiet of his drivers room and hotel suites bigger than your flat, empty garages long after his engineers had left, not a word was shared between you. It stung, his disbelief that you could handle a little hate, that you could handle yourself. You hadn’t voiced the fears that he refused to go public because he was ashamed of you. The answer you believe you will receive from Marcus scaring you before the words could even begin to formulate in his mind. 

The most recent argument, the one still lingering now, had been the worst around the topic. In the most recent Screaming Meals podcast, a feminine laugh could be heard behind the scenes when Clem made a joke, and the way Marcus’ eyes shined when he looked to the person behind the camera had the comments speculating who she was, and who she was to him. 

This speculation had been less than pleasant. The comments were ripping apart this girl, calling her ugly despite not seeing her face, calling her a cheat for laughing at Clement’s joke despite them believing her to be Marcus’ girl, saying she was an attention whore for distracting the boys, for having to be involved despite not being on camera. 

It was easy to detach yourself from these comments, for you at least. Marcus struggled more, clearly taking many of the words to heart and believing you did too. Hate was hate to you, it didn’t have to affect your relationship unless you let it. Unfortunately, Marcus let it. 

“You shouldn’t have to go through all this shit just to be seen with me!” Marcus had his hand on the door handle to your shared suite, “It’s been me and you, always. There’s no fucking need to change that now. No one else needs to know as long as we do.”

Those had been his final words of the argument just a few days before, as he left you in the unnecessarily plush hotel. They stung. The fact he seemed so ashamed to admit he loved you, that, yeah it had always been you and him, but it was different now. And you wanted people to know. Clearly, he didn’t see it the same way. 

That night was the first in three years that the other bed in the suite had been used, even though he didn’t come back until the next morning. 

——

A few days after the TikTok the boys had been making was posted to the Screaming Meals page, you and Marcus seemed to be back to somewhat normal. Well, you were exchanging small, meaningless conversations and sleeping in the same bed. Deciding you couldn’t hide this anymore, you decided to break this tentative peace, bringing back the topic he seemed so adamant to avoid. 

You were trying to build up the courage as Marcus made his way out of the en-suite, smiling at you as you tried to get your eyeliner even in the mirror. Despite the tension, he had insisted that your date night went ahead. He had picked the fanciest restaurant that was within walking distance of your hotel, meaning a beautiful outfit was in order. 

Meeting his eyes in the mirror as he sat on the end of the bed, shirtless but in smart dress pants, you gave him a shy smile, dragging as much confidence as you could to get your next words out. 

“Marcus, we need to talk.” His face fell, but he nodded slightly, “I can't do this anymore. I can't be the hidden girlfriend, from your friends, your team, everyone. You keep saying it's because of the hate I would receive. But you’ve seen the hate I receive almost daily, just for existing on social media, and in your world. You know I can handle it. I feel like, at this point, you won't say anything because you’re-“

You broke into a sob, not even realising tears had been pooling at your lash line, desperately fanning your face so as to not smudge your makeup as all your worst fears bubbled to the surface.    

“Because I’m what, love? Have I done something?” He looked panicked now, moving to stand behind you, warm palms on your bare arms. 

“Well, yes, but no. Marcus.” Letting out a deep sigh, you prepared yourself for the rest of this conversation, “To me, you won’t post me because you’re ashamed for people to know I’m your girlfriend.” The last part of the sentence came out whispered and rushed. You wouldn’t have even known he heard you, had his hands not stopped ghosting across your shoulders. 

With a deep sigh of his own, Marcus spun the chair you were sitting in, kneeling to face you as you desperately tried to hide behind your hair. Gently lifting your chin, he forced you to meet his eyes. The tears that had been pooling earlier had begun running down your face, gentle tracks in your otherwise pristine foundation. 

“Oh sweetheart.” He whispered, tightly pulling you against him, face buried in the crook of his neck. “I promise you, the last thing I could ever be is ashamed of you. You are the love of my life, and have been since we were nine and you punched that girl for making me upset.” You let out a wet snort at the memory, but your tears continue to flow, dripping onto Marcus’ collarbone. “I truly thought I was protecting you by not announcing anything. I should have shown you off to everyone as soon as I had the chance. And I am beyond sorry I didn’t. Nothing in my life matters without you there by my side.” 

You were fully sobbing now, but you had raised your head to look in your boyfriend’s eyes, surprised to find them lined with thick tears. Reaching up to cup his cheek, you lightly shook your head. 

“It’s ok. Well, it isn’t. But we can fix it.” And with a watery smile, you pecked his forehead. 

“Do you want me to post something? I could do a instagram photo dump, you know I have enough photos? Or we’re recording Screaming Meals tomorrow, could I say something on the podcast?” Chuckling at the panicked look in your boyfriend’s eyes, you grinned slightly, your usual glint returning to your eyes.

“Well, I had an idea the other day, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we can do something else.” 

——

That’s how, when you had finished fixing your makeup, you and Marcus were standing in front of the full length mirror, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you brought up the TikTok sound, purposely keeping the camera angled to the side so Marcus wouldn’t be seen. 

“I’m sorry, I just need one minute to make sure I look good.”

Gently running one of his fingers under your lip to wipe an imaginary smudge of lipstick away as you mouthed along to the words, watching as you tilted your head to the side as you continued. 

“Do you think I look good, Mr Armstrong?” 

Smiling lightly as you move your phone so that Marcus was visible, with his arms wrapped tightly around you, his head resting against yours, he grabbed your jaw to pull you into a kiss as the audio switched to the music and the TikTok ended. 

After watching it back, along with a burst of laughter at how Clem and James would react, especially after he wasn’t excited to use the sound with them, you hit post, quickly followed by Marcus saving it and posting it on his instagram. 

Within minutes, both of your phones were flooded with notifications that were ignored as someone started banging on your suite door. James and Clem fell through the door as soon as you swung it open, babbling about how they knew it, how Clem owed James money because he didn’t think Marcus would have the guts to say something. Giggling as your boyfriend tried to calm his friends, also cracking into laughter himself as he returned to your side to wrap his arms around you again. 

He grinned down at you as you reached out for Clem, who was currently trying to escape James, he was honestly upset he hadn't done this sooner. 

[arcade-chaos]

Day 3: Chill

Subnautica au! Mer sun and Moon, they/them for insert, cuddles

I've been reading not enough subnautica aus, so i went a little feral. you know what thing where someone puts their cold feet or hands on their partner? Ya thats Moon. Anywhos

The base was frozen. That was the only explanation that came to mind as they groggily slipped into awareness, some logical part in the back of their brain knew they should get up and find whatever faulty wire had let the temperature drop so low, but they would be damned if they crawled out of the warm bubble of their blankets. Groggily they poked their head out, snatching up their datapad before diving back under to ignore the freeze that nipped their ears. 

It didn’t give them anything helpful, chiming off that they needed to conserve heat while looking through the paneling with their scanner. That sounded like an activity for someone not in their undersuit, preferably one with thick slippers. And maybe a hat. 

With what could only be described as the world's most tortured groan they rose, stumbling towards their wetsuit as they clung to the blankets last bit of warmth. Their feet were already frozen by the time they slipped it on, going as far as to wear the flippers to avoid frostbite. 

“I knew I should’ve stayed in the shallows.” They grumbled halfheartedly. They knew they needed to get deeper, and the rocky cliff they were clinging to was the easiest way down to the river, but hell if they didn’t miss the warm waters of the shallows. Something distant splashed up in the moonpool, a quiet rumble soothing their concerns. They frowned and shivered as they scanned the bedroom, moving down the hall to meet Moon who was, as usual, tracking water through the base. 

“Rude.” They grumbled, ignoring his purr that turned into a little coo. He shuffled in front of their scanner as it buzzed, looming up to stare at their face. “Ya stinker?” He frowned and stuck out his tongue, though it didn’t last long. Instead he placed his hand over their head, which made them pull back from the chill of the water that clung to his skin. 

“Hurt?” He whined, beginning to nose under their blanket cape for a wound. 

“No, not hurt. Just cold.” He frowned, clicking over the word a few times as he circled them. “Cold, like not warm. Shallows are warm, down here is cold.” He chuffed, his tail wetly slapping the floor as he stared at them. “You’re also cold.” 

“Cold… Bad?” He frowned.

“Not necessarily. It’s only bad if it's too cold.” They gestured to the room, scanning the wall again. “I gotta find whatevers making my base cold and fix it.” Moon hummed, following them for a bit before piping back up. 

“I’ll be back. Get Sun.” They hummed a goodbye, sighing as the scan came up clean yet again. It wasn’t life threatening by any means, they were dry enough, but the combination of flippers and blanket cape made getting around the space difficult. They managed to get through the green house, after fretting over all the plants, and into the moonpool by the time their companions came back. Sun skittered towards them immediately, stopped only by Moon tugging his tail back.

“Wet.” He chided, pulling up to the opposite wall to shake off.

“Oh NOW you respect my wishes.” They snorted, teeth chattering as they shook. It was even worse in here. The scan relieved their greatest worries, the insulation in the left wall was soaked. They pulled off their blanket and prepared to dive in to patch the hull, stopped by Sunny’s warm hands on their neck.

“Cold??” He fretted, purring as they leaned into his hands. Despite the dampness they could feel the heat coming back to his skin. 

“Ya, I gotta fix the outside before it’ll warm up again.” They hummed, content to just stay there in Sun’s grasp to soak up the heat. Sun seemed pretty content with that plan too, pulling them back as Moon snatched up their scanner.

“I'll fix.” He grumbled, clicking the button repeatedly and staring at the little laser grid it lit on the floor. 

“You don’t know how.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Get rock, point, fix.” Okay, maybe he did know. Props to Alterra for making tech so easy they supposed. 

“Only because you’re so nice.” They taunted, trying to tighten their jaw to keep their teeth from clacking. Sun quickly scooped them and the blanket up, carrying them deeper into the base as Moon sank below the water. They didn’t protest when he removed their flippers, wrapping them both in the blanket to lay on the bed. They could feel his heartbeat under his scales, coursing warmth through his limbs as he rubbed little circles on their back.

“Better?” They sighed, snuggling a bit closer to warm their nose.

“Mmhm…” They mumbled, suddenly much sleepier. Their datapad beeped as Moon resurfaced, clamoring into the room with a wet shake.

“Fix. When warm?” 

“Mm…” They squinted at the pad. “An hour or two.” Moon seemed annoyed with the answer, Sun chose to snuggle closer instead. 

“I'm warm.” He purred, seemingly pleased with the situation at hand.

“Yep, very warm.” They snorted, giggling as Moon whined at the foot of the bed. “Why are you pouting?” They taunted, pulling away to get a better look. Moon growled softly, his lure wagging. 

“... Cold.” He mumbled, eyeing the bed and Sun with clear jealousy. Sun clicked something and pulled them a little tighter, eyeing his still damp skin. 

“You can come warm up if you dry off-” They didn’t get to finish their request before he was scampering off and rubbing himself on the towels. He returned even quicker, leaping into bed rough enough to make it bounce. They were glad they opted for the two person size, even then it was squished with two mers around them. At least the blanket stopped Moon’s chill from leaching their heat. Moon purred quietly, curling his tail around their form and over Sun’s back, wiggling down into the blankets quickly.

“Cold!!” Sun squeaked, pressing even closer to the human sandwich in the middle as Moon cackled. 

“Warm.”

[moth--knight]

lesbians? under my moon goddess' light? more likely than you'd think

[thishazeleyeddemon]

Olympus outside of his workshops always felt unpleasant at best to Hephaestus. It was loud, absolutely full of nymphs and satyrs and various hangers-on, all of whom insisted on being excited to see Lord Klytotékhnēs in person. It wasn’t so bad if it was just one or two, but a whole crowd made his head ache. And it was bright – Hephaestus thought longingly as he made his way to his palace of the days before fluorescent lighting being a standard. What was it about mortals and about his family that made them so fond of unceasing radiance? At least his palace on the mountain was quiet. It gave him space to think. ---- Coda to Episode 5. Hephaestus puts in a good word for Annabeth.

[apathetic-theme-song]

Secret Santa!!

I got to make something for @ryoukio for @super-secret-conspiracy! I hope you enjoy this little one-shot of a bunch of dorks living together (and why you shouldn't leave Bakura and Yamima/Saif alone with a garden hose)

Saif sputtered as a spray of water smacked him in the face. "What the hell?!"

Ryou and Bakura stood before him with two very different expressions. Ryou's hands were clasped over his mouth in shock, and Bakura had his default expression of boredom with a tinge of annoyance. "Don't try to sneak up on a thief, jackass," Bakura said.

"I wasn't sneaking up on you, I -" Bakura held up a hose, squeezing the trigger of the spray nozzle. The water started flowing again, jetting out to soak through Saif's shirt in a violent spray. "Stop it!" Saif yelled, flailing his arms up to try and block the spray.

"Bakura," Ryou said, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. "I think he gets it."

Bakura released the trigger, the corners of his lips pulled up in impish amusement. "Negative reinforcement, bitch. Serves you right for not having manners."

"Manners?! That's rich coming from you, Bakura, gimme that -" Saif reached for the hose, receiving another spray of water to the face for his trouble. But he pushed forward, grasping for the hose.

Bakura's confidence quickly fell away as Saif managed to grab the nozzle, his hand wrapping around Bakura's. "No - fuck off!" Saif managed to turn the hose, and Bakura nearly choked as water exploded in his face before Saif released the trigger. All was quiet for a long moment, but then Saif squeezed the trigger again for a second, water spraying directly into Bakura's open mouth. "That's it - you're fucking dead!" Bakura screeched, tossing the hose aside to tackle Saif onto the dirt.

"You started it!" Saif screamed back, pushing Bakura's face away as he tried to swing down with some open-palmed hits. They'd graduated beyond actually trying to cause damage a long time ago, but old habits died hard, especially in the heat of the moment. Despite himself, Saif started laughing as he wrestled with Bakura, who was looking less like a menacing embodiment of darkness and more like an angry, wet cat. Seeing the fury in Bakura's eyes, knowing how easy it was to rile him up, made Saif want to pull him down and kiss him. With teeth.

A blast of cold water hit them both, stopping them dead in their tracks to cry out in surprise, holding their hands out to try and block the water. The spray stopped, and Ryou was holding the hose now, unable to hold back his giggling as they stared at him. "Et tu, Ryou?" Bakura whined melodramatically.

"You both need to calm down," Ryou said with a nonchalant shrug, turning to start watering the plants in the garden - the whole reason he'd brought the hose out in the first place. He still smiled even as he mused, "Our water bill is going to be horrible this month."

Bakura climbed off of Saif, squeezing water out of his shirt and hair. "Marik's going to wonder why our clothes are all wet."

"As soon as I explain that you decided to wage war using gardening tools, he'll understand."

Saif sat upright. "Ooh. Y'know, I bet that home improvement store has those handheld sickles -" Ryou lifted the hose to splash Saif again. "Ack - okay, okay! I get it!" Saif said, slumping to the ground before adding dejectedly, "No more knife fights."

"You two are really bad for my blood pressure." Ryou turned off the water and started to roll up the hose for storage.

"Hey, we could do a lot worse," Bakura reminded as he stood up.

Ryou tilted his head, giving Bakura a warm smile. "You could. But you don't anymore. I'm proud of you, you know."

Bakura groaned, smacking Ryou on the arm with a wet hand as he headed for the house. "I've hit my 'sappy' quota for the day." He paused to look at Saif, drawing a thumb across his throat. This isn't over.

Saif blew him a kiss in response, laughing when Bakura made a noise of disgust and disappeared inside. "That goes for you, too," Ryou said after a moment, watching him. "Marik and I are both glad you're doing better."

Saif groaned, hurrying to follow Bakura inside as Ryou laughed. "Bakura! Come back! Ryou's turned on me!"

Ryou followed a few minutes later to find Bakura and Saif wrapped up in towels on the couch, brushing through the wet spots of their hair. "You might be horrible for my blood pressure," he said, sitting between them to wrap his arms around Saif's bicep and hug him close. "But I mean it. I'm proud of you, and I love you."

"And I'm growing quite fond of you," Bakura cracked, resting his head on Ryou's shoulder. "Damn you and your healing power of love."

"I can't take all the credit -"

"Hey, guys?" Marik's voice came immediately after the sound of the front door opening. "First, hi, I'm home. Second, why is the sidewalk all wet?"

"Bakura sprayed me with a water hose," Saif explained.

"Because he snuck up on me and Ryou when we were watering the garden!" Bakura shot back. "He knows better than to surprise me when I'm holding something that can be weaponized!"

"You really should, Saif," Marik said, approaching to lean against the back of the couch. He leaned down to kiss Bakura on the cheek, pulling back to eye the towels. "But thank you for not getting the couch wet."

"Last thing I need is you getting angry at me, too," Saif said with a cheeky grin. "I'm not an animal."

"Not all the time, anyway," Bakura cracked, sticking his tongue out when Saif flipped him off.

"Stop fighting!" Marik fake-whined, leaning down to rest his chin on Bakura's head. "You love each other!"

"Unfortunately." Bakura sighed, but he gave Saif a little smile - just kidding. Saif winked at him in response. "Anyway. Gang's all here. Movie night?"

The couch cuddle pile was always the same. Bakura on the left, then Marik, then Ryou, and Saif on the right, closing off the sandwich of bodies. Ryou won the right to pick the movie, and they turned on some gothic romantic horror that had Marik curled into a ball within minutes. Saif reached over Ryou's shoulder to press his hand against Marik's back, a gentle reminder that he was there. This was nice; this was normal, now.

"Y'know, getting all wet reminds me," Saif said at a quiet point in the movie. "We should get to the beach before it gets too cold."

Ryou perked up, giving him a wide smile. "Yeah! I'm done with exams for now so we have time!"

"How can you talk about beaches when there are OH MY GOD!" Marik broke off into a yelp, burying his face in his hands as ghosts started appearing in the movie. "How can you watch this?!"

Ryou gave Saif an apologetic smile and hugged Marik. "Sorry. Don't worry, it calms down after this. Anyway, let's plan on it."

"Only if we stock up on sunscreen. I am not dealing with sunburn again," Bakura chimed in, patting Marik's hair.

"I love you guys," Saif said, and as his brother and their partners laughed and huddled closer together, he realized for the first time how much he meant it.

[hotmothsummer]

Graham dies beneath the ice of Svalbard, in the hand of some tall, black thing whose claws rip through his skin like its paper. He dies with explosives crackling to life and heat in his palm, a claw trying to pry open his ribs like his body was nothing more than a can of fish, and the boom of stone doors slamming behind him. Graham dies to the spark-flash-boom of fire and the wailing shriek of those that took him, a claw piercing his lungs.

Graham Casner dies beneath the ice of Svalbard.

He wakes up again above it, almost 4,000 kilometers away in Nova Scotia, Canada, five months in the past.

hiiii i’m writing an extremely self indulgent time travel au for horror podcast the white vault btw..... :]

[disclaimer: this bitch is NOT a fix-it fic!!! it is in fact about celebrating the subjects of horror this pod has already given to us. just an fyi. tragedy and possible character death may still apply. that doesnt mean its all bad times though!! i am also writing it bc i miss twv s1-s2 cast. i care them.]

[m0thisonfire]

And we finish this fic off with a whopping 13,546 words plus a revamped drabble part from here on tumblr!!!

[halfmoth-halfman]

little treasures, life's pleasures

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Now that Soap knows when to pay attention, he realizes you and Ghost aren't as subtle as you think you are. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. part one. part three. part four.

You don’t use your married name, Soap discovers.

Honestly, he gets it; Simon Riley is allegedly dead to the world with a seemingly endless list of enemies who’d love to get their hands on anything they could use to bring down The Ghost and, based on what Soap saw in your file, you’ve acquired quite the list of enemies yourself. If he were in either of your shoes, Soap would probably do the same.

He stands to the side, leaning with his back to the wall as Price talks about…something? Soap knows he should be paying attention- he had fully intended to, he swears- but then you and Ghost showed up, sitting down right next to each other. There’s an appropriate amount of distance between your chairs, but at the top of the meeting, Ghost folds his arms and leans back, long legs spread just wide enough for his knee to lightly tap against yours, and Soap immediately loses all interest in everything else. 

He keeps his eyes on Price, giving the illusion that he’s listening, but angles his head just enough to see you and Ghost through his peripherals. You’re both staring straight ahead, fully focused on whatever Price is talking about, but every so often Ghost shifts just so and nudges his knee against yours. It’s a subtle movement, not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it, and happens once every fifteen minutes or so. 

Around the forty-five-minute mark, Price asks you a question and you lean forward, answering to the best of your knowledge. Ghost shifts, sitting up a little straighter, watching as you and Price go back and forth. When you’ve finished talking, and Price is satisfied with your answers, you lean back in your chair and Soap sees Ghost's knee nudge against yours once more. He catches your quick glance over to Ghost, though he’s back to paying attention to Price, and the way you try to hide your smile by pretending to scratch the tip of your nose. 

The next time Ghost shifts, you meet him in the middle and set your knee against his, staying that way for the remainder of the meeting. 

-

If Soap thought Ghost's hovering was bad when you were recovering from your leg injury after Las Almas, he doesn’t want to know what Ghost will be like after this.

He’ll probably move his bed into the infirmary, Soap laughs to himself as he wraps bandages around your poorly patched head. The ambush had taken the team by surprise, with a private quickly ushering you away for safety. Unfortunately, “safety” turned out to be in the direct line of an oncoming grenade and the ensuing explosion knocked you head-first into a nearby humvee.

You don’t remember much after that. At some point after the fight, you're picked up, then placed in the passenger seat of the humvee. Someone orders you to talk Soap through bandaging the bleeding slice on the side of your head before Soap appears holding a roll of gauze and a canteen of water.

(Soap assumes it’s to give you something to concentrate on so you don’t fall asleep and worsen your concussion, but you know it’s so Ghost can find the private in charge of your safety and give him the dressing down of a lifetime.)

“You’re wrapping my eye, Soap,” you groan, leaning slightly away from him. He curses under his breath, unraveling the last loop of bandages.

“Sorry, Doc. Not as good at this as you,” Soap jokes. 

“You were doing fine until you tried to turn me into a pirate.” Soap scoffs in mock offense and playfully nudges your shoulder. He readjusts the bandage near your left ear, moving it up just slightly when he sees the thin black lines peeking out from the bottom. Curiosity overtakes him, as he “adjusts” your bandages again, lifting the bottom to reveal a simple outline of a skull he knows all too well tattooed in black ink just behind your ear. 

“How’re we doing?” 

Soap slides the bandage back down at the sudden sound of Ghost’s voice as the Lieutenant approaches the humvee. 

“All good to go,” Soap says, clapping his hands and stepping back. You feel around the bandages, humming in satisfaction.

“Not bad, Soap,” you smile at him, “keep practicing and you might put me out of a job.” You give him a wink before pushing forward to stand on your feet. You stumble only a little, using the humvee door for balance and Soap doesn’t miss the slight way Ghost’s hands flinch to help you before you right yourself.

“Five minutes and I’ll be ready to move,” you nod to Ghost.

“I’ll hold you to that.” There’s a brief moment, where Ghost’s intense gaze focuses directly on you, eyes moving back and forth between your head wound and your face. His shoulders tense, hands flexing into fists before he looks towards Soap and the moment’s gone. 

“Let’s go, Sergeant,” Ghost calls, walking past Soap towards the other vehicles. Soap follows, turning back just once to see the private who had been with you approach you sheepishly, eyes cast down at the ground. You set a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, saying something Soap’s too far away to hear, and turn to lead him back to your vehicle.

-

It isn’t his intention to end up in the infirmary first thing in the morning, but Soap’s day seems to be off to a particularly shitty start as he wakes up with the mother of all migraines. He’s tempted to power through it, but as soon as he sits up the world spins, and feels so nauseous he considers it a miracle he didn’t immediately puke right there. 

It takes him a while to make his way to the infirmary, but he gets there without incident. One hand rubbing his temple, Soap leans forward to push the infirmary door open. It swings open before he can reach the crash bar and he nearly falls forward, almost colliding into Ghost. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap curses, stepping back to allow Ghost out of the infirmary.

“You alright, Johnny?” 

“‘m fine, Lt,” Soap sighs, giving Ghost a half-smile and lazy thumbs-up. Ghost doesn’t seem to believe him, but then again, Ghost’s face is just like that so Soap’s not sure if his excuse works. “Just wanted to say mornin’ to the Doc.” 

“Right…” Ghost’s eyes travel over Soap, narrowing slightly as he looks back up at Soap’s face. His eyes seem darker, Soap thinks, and when he looks closer he notices the crease of fresh paint on Ghost’s eyelids. They stand for a moment, silently scrutinizing each other before Soap breaks the tension. 

“You been up a while?” Soap asks even though he knows the answer. It’s not uncommon in their line of work to have uneven sleep patterns, but Ghost has one of the most fucked up sleeping schedules Soap has ever seen; Soap isn’t sure he’s ever actually seen Ghost sleep for more than a thirty-minute power nap. 

“For a few hours. The Doc needed my help with something,” Ghost shrugs, “heading down to the practice range now, if you care to join?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a bit.”

Ghost nods, starting down the hallway, “Take your time,” he calls back towards Soap, “no sense in rushing. We both know I'm the better shot anyways.”

Cheeky fucker. 

Soap rolls his eyes, pushing the infirmary door open and stepping inside. He finds you at your desk in the back, sorting through reports, and sipping from a small mug filled with steaming tea. 

“Mornin’, Doc.” You look up in surprise, smiling as Soap pulls up a chair on the other side of your desk.

“Good morning! Something I can help you with?” 

“Got anything for a migraine?” 

“Ouch,” you grimace at him, “lemme see what I got for you.” You down the rest of your tea, setting the mug back on your desk as you begin rifling through the drawers. Soap exhales in relief, scrubbing a hand down his face and pressing into his closed eyes to try and distract from the pain. He opens one eye as you hum, but you’re still looking through your desk, picking through pill bottles. 

Soap takes the time to look over your desk; you have a system of organized chaos composed of stacks of folders, sticky notes, two mugs, an impressive collection of colorful paperclips, a pile of labeled pens, and-

-Wait. 

He looks back, checking to make sure he isn’t seeing things, and, yes, two empty mugs are sitting atop your desk. He knows which one is yours- it’s the same one you always use- the adorably round one painted to look like a sheet ghost (a joke Soap is just now getting), but the solid black one next to yours is unfamiliar. 

“Aha!” You find the bottle you’re looking for and hold it out to Soap. “Take two of these, and grab some food. It should kick in in about thirty minutes to an hour.” Soap reaches to grab the pill bottle, but his attention is pulled towards your hand that appears to be smeared with a black…something? He takes the bottle and examines the faint black fingerprints staining the orange plastic.

“What happened?” he asks, nodding toward your hands.

“Oh!” You examine your hands, rubbing some of the excess stuff off. “One of my pens broke and the ink got everywhere. I thought I got all of it, sorry-” Soap shrugs noncommittally, “-guess we’re both having one of those mornings, huh? Here, let me get you some water to take those with.” You stand, grab both mugs, and disappear to the other side of the infirmary. Soap pops the pill bottle open, eyes roaming over your desk as he fishes out two of the chalky blue pills. 

With the mugs gone, he has a better view of the right side of your desk and, more importantly, what had been sitting behind them: an opened and well-used circular tin of standard-issue black camouflage face paint. He doesn’t know how he didn’t put two-and-two together as soon as he saw your hands, but he’ll blame the migraine in this case. 

The Doc asked me to help with something, my arse.

-

It’s one of the hottest days on record so, of course, it only stands that today would be the day for the A/C to go out. 

You’ve had more people coming in and out of your infirmary in the last six hours than you’ve had in the past six months. Handing out ice packs like candy on Halloween and treating multiple cases of almost-heat stroke, you’ve been nothing short of slammed since you walked into the infirmary this morning. Like everyone else, you’re miserable in the sweltering heat, your jacket hanging wide open and sleeves rolled up above your elbows. It does little to help. 

“Got a delivery for you, Doc,” Soap calls out, waltzing into the infirmary during the first lull you’ve had since morning. He holds out a tall thermos, shaking it so you can hear something sloshing inside. He’s abandoned his ACU jacket, standing there in a black cotton beater, smiling widely, but you can see the beads of sweat rolling down his face and collecting on his collarbone. “Ice water, fresh from the mess.”

“John MacTavish, you are my hero.” You snatch the thermos from his hands, gulping down the chilling water and letting out an obscene groan. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally be appreciated,” Soap winks. You hum, flopping down into an empty chair and leaning back to take another swig from the thermos. 

“Any word on the A/C?” you ask between frantic sips. Once you’ve had your fill, you hold the thermos loosely in your hand as you lean back in your chair.

“Nothing yet. Price said…” Soap trails off as you grab the collar of your own beater and pull at it in a poor attempt to fan yourself. It’s not so much the action that catches his attention, but the small metal chain around your neck with two solid black rings hanging from it. Soap’s never been married before, but he knows a wedding ring when he sees one. Though the fact you’re wearing both rings only leads to more questions. He supposes Ghost has never seemed the type to wear jewelry. Then again, Ghost never seemed the type for marriage, either. 

“Price said…?” 

“Huh?” Soap snaps his eyes back up to your face, praying that you hadn’t just caught him staring near your chest, but you have your head leaned back with your eyes shut tight and the frigid metal of the thermos pressed against your forehead. 

“You said, Price said…and then stopped?”

“Right! Right, yeah, he said it should be fixed by this evening.” You groan in disgust and sluggishly sit up in your chair. You move the thermos from your forehead to your neck, sighing as the chilled metal meets your overheated skin, but all Soap can focus on is the necklace that now hangs outside of your shirt. The rings clink together softly as you move, setting the thermos down and wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“I-”

Soap turns as the doors swing open and another medic rushes in. “Incoming, Doc: two more passed out on the practice range!” 

Soap turns back to you and finds the necklace tucked back into your shirt as you chug the last of your water. You toss him the empty thermos with a thankful smile. 

“No rest for the wicked, eh Soap?” 

-

Missions don’t often go wrong for the 141, but it does happen on occasion. However, they’ve never had a mission end with this many injured before.

You already dismissed Price, his injuries treated with strict orders for three days of bed rest, at least. Gaz had been a bit more extensive and, while you were tempted to keep him overnight, he assured you he was fine enough to sleep in his own cot. You let him go but stressed that if he felt off in any sort of way, to hightail it back to the infirmary. 

Which left Ghost and Soap. Between the two of them, it took you and two other medics a full thirty-six hours to finally get them stable and it was another full day before either of them woke up. You let them rest, waiting until they’ve gotten enough strength to be relatively back to normal before you tell the other medics you’ll take over and they can worry about other patients. 

You wait until the three of you are alone to lay into them, a week’s worth of built-up frustration, stress, and worry spilling out of you. 

“Why is it always you two? I swear, every heli Price gets in is shot down and crashes in some fiery explosion, and still, you two manage to outdo any injury he’s ever gotten!”

Soap, at least, has the sense to look ashamed as you pace around the room, airing every grievance you can think of. Ghost’s eyes follow your every step, but he says nothing, taking every insult you throw. Your rant lasts for nearly an hour before you collapse into a chair and cover your face with your hands, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. They can hear you taking deep breaths, counting backward from ten under your breath. 

“Sorry for worryin’ ya, Doc,” Soap speaks softly. You sigh, dropping your hands to your lap.

“S’alright, I just…want you to be more careful.” You don’t look at either of them as you sit up, one hand coming up to massage your neck. Guilt crawls up his spine as Soap takes in the deep bags under your eyes and the weighted hunch of your shoulders. “Try and get some rest, both of you. We’ll see how you’re feeling in the morning.” With that, you head back to your desk, busying yourself with catching up on reports. 

He isn’t sure what wakes him, but when Soap opens his eyes, it’s nearly pitch black with the clock reading 3:11 a.m. in bright red. He shifts, trying not to tear his stitches as he gets more comfortable, and turns to his right to check on Ghost. He finds the curtain between their beds drawn just enough so that he can barely see Ghost’s head from where he’s laying and a soft light from one of the bedside lamps glowing behind it.

“Two’s the perfect number, in my opinion.” That’s your voice, murmuring softly from the other side of the curtain. Quietly, and carefully, Soap pushes himself up further in his bed, sitting up so he can angle his head to see around the curtain. When he does, he immediately sinks his teeth into his cheek to keep from making noise.

Ghost is sitting up, propped up by an army of pillows and you’re sitting on a low stool on the right side of his bed with your back to him so you can stretch back and lay your head in his lap. His right hand is draped over you, lightly running his fingers over the set of rings on your necklace as you talk.

“I think three would be too many, plus then we’d have to deal with the whole middle child syndrome thing.” 

…what are you talking about?

“Two’s it for you, huh?” Ghost asks, the tiredness evident in his already gruff voice. 

“Yeah-” you turn your head and smile up at him, “-a boy and a girl. Not sure about names, though. For a girl, I was originally thinking Kate, after Laswell, but the more I think about it, the less sure I am about it. Then I was thinking we could name her after one of the guys, but the only one whose name would even work would be Kyle’s; we could turn that into Kylie. What do you think?” There’s a long silence as Ghost stares down at the rings sitting against your chest. It lasts so long, Soap starts to think Ghost has fallen asleep when the man suddenly gathers the rings in his hand, staring down at the black metal in his palm. 

“Spent a lot of time thinking about this, have you?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name, quiet but firm, and you sigh. 

“It’s just a fantasy,” you whisper, ”like how people talk about what they’ll do when they win the lottery.”

“So, you don’t want-”

“With you, of course, I do.” One of your hands slides gently up his torso, stopping at the extensive bandages wrapped around his chest, while the other absently fiddles with the hair on the left side of your head, skirting over the scar left by the humvee. “But do you honestly think we’ll live long enough for it to happen?”

The room lapses into silence, the only sound a soft echo of the ticking clock beside Soap’s bed. I shouldn’t be listening to this, Soap thinks to himself. He carefully maneuvers himself back down the bed, going even further to lay facing away from the curtain, and you, and Ghost, and any talks of children and impossible futures. He squeezes his eyes shut in a futile attempt at sleep, but his mind is going a million miles a minute and Soap knows he won’t be sleeping for the rest of the night.

Several long minutes pass by in the quiet dark, before Ghost speaks again, “What would you name him?”

“Hm?”

“The boy, what would you name him?”

Your answer is instant.

“Thomas.”

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

PDA Headcanons - Ace

Word count: 655

Suggestive (N/SFW)

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Ace’s initials are not “PDA” for nothing. He’s not ashamed of showing the world how just hopelessly in love the two of you are.

He loves to touch you - whether it’s holding hands, a hug, a hand on your waist, caressing your hair, a sweet kiss on the top of your head, or a passionate kiss on your lips, he loves to feel you near.

He will often have an arm around your waist or shoulders, or a warm hand resting on the small of your back. His ego will swell to the heavens and beyond if you grab onto his arm while strolling around on some island - it makes him feel loved, wanted, and needed.

When holding hands, he’ll often give it a random squeeze to make you look at him for no reason in particular, other than just wanting to see your smile.

Ace loves to feel your fingers trailing through his hair, especially when he lays down for a nap. A sunny day and a nap on Moby Dick’s deck would be incomplete without his head resting in your lap, and your fingers slowly combing through his dark, shaggy mane. Ace hasn’t known much mildness in his life, not even as a child, and especially not now that he is all grown up and an infamous hot shot. This is why your gentleness towards him makes you and your moments together that much more extraordinary.

Ace loves to show you off. He’s damn proud of himself for scoring someone like you. Anyone with eyes can see how hot you are, but to Ace, what’s inside is worth so much more. Not only are you a treat to look at, but you’re also one of the kindest people he’s ever met. And as the object of your affections, Ace is thoroughly convinced he must be the luckiest guy on Earth.

He often lets you wear his hat, especially when he’s not around. You love carrying a little piece of him with you when the real deal is unavailable, and he loves seeing you wear his things, cus that’s what couples do, right? He doesn’t really have a shirt for you to steal, so then his hat it is. He thinks it’s both cute and funny how you keep insisting on wearing it, despite it clearly being too big for you.

His kisses are passionate. Just like his devil fruit, just like his temper, and his taste in food, Ace brings hotness all around. He’ll capture your lips and kiss you with reckless abandon. And if someone’s watching? Then who gives a fuck? Let them see how much you love each other. You’ll usually be the one to break the kiss - the intensity of which makes you feel a bit awkward in public. Ace will just laugh it off.

When you guys are alone, and he can really let loose, no one can match his passion. His kisses are hot, messy, and sloppy. His tongue will invade your mouth at the slightest chance. It’s not uncommon for him to bite your lip or pinch you so he can slip his tongue into your mouth the moment you gasp.

Ace’s lips are not the only ones to express his passion. His hands will be all over you if given the chance - rubbing, stroking, squeezing, kneading, and pinching.

Ace does not shy away from biting or nipping - whether it’s your lips, earlobes, neck, shoulders, or nipples.

In the same trend, he loves to leave love-bites on your skin - a reminder of your fun times, and a heads-up to any other interested parties that you’re his, and his alone. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he gets a bit of a kick from marking you, especially when others notice and joke about it.

Conversely, however, he’s not big on getting hickeys himself but will proudly show off the red marks your nails dug in his back. 

[moth--blood]

embracing my neurodivergence and assigning Obey Me characters sharks!! you cannot change my mind im right

[ ft the brothers, dia, barb, luke, simeon, solomon, thirteen ]

Lucifer

is a mix of a Lemon shark and a Great White.

they're both surprisingly chill animals who just look really scary; Great Whites have been known to swim in small pacts of their own species for hours, just hanging out. Lemon sharks have EXCELLENT memories and frequently befriend the divers who study them! they like being touched on the nose and are very protective of their diver friends.

Mammon

is a mix of a Thresher shark and a Spinner shark.

Both are relatively docile, and quick swimmers. he's more Spinner than Thresher, as Spinner's are faster and much nicer!

Levi

is a Thresher, Horn, and Grey Tip Reef shark mix.

Thresher sharks, as stated above, are relatively chill. they also constantly look nervous which i think is cute. Horn sharks are the most familial of sharks i could find, being some of the only (if the only) sharks who temporarily care for their pups. they've been known to immediately flee when humans get close, they're very skidish. Grey Tip Reef sharks are the most aggressive of the reef sharks, just barely, though they're only aggressive if provoked.

also i think all of them are cute and i think levi would like these three........

Satan

is a Salmon Shark / Great White mix.

both look really scary, but they can be really chill! Salmon sharks specifically have been known to be very aggressive in the ocean, but they almost never attack humans. Great Whites, as mentioned with Lucifer, are also pretty chill when un-provoked :)

Asmo

listen. listen i think they're both very cute. asmo is either a cookie cutter or a leopard shark.

Cookie Cutter sharks are kind of like Facultative parasites, and I think that fits asmo specifically for the reminder that, no matter how cute he is, he isn't harmless. he's still an Avatar of Sin. Leopard sharks, alternatively, are absolute sweethearts and are very docile towards humans

Beel

was the easiest to assign, almost no thought necessary, he is carpet shark <3 specifically, whale shark or a horn shark.

whale sharks are gentle giants, and absolute babies. they eat a LOT, they're kind, they're the most active of carpet sharks. they are built like busses and i woukd love to pat one on its big ass nose <3

horn sharks, as aforementioned with levi, are the most familial. and i think they fit beel because hes so family centered, is a little cute

Belphie

like his twin, is only carpet shark. specifically, a tasseled wobbegong and a nurse shark.

tasseled wobbegongs are stationary ambush predators. they're relatively chill, but they have been known to jump out and attack divers and swimmers who get too close. Nurse sharks are special, being some of the only sharks who are able to sit on the ocean floor for long periods of time because their gills evolved to filter water without having to move. while nurse sharks dont sleep, per se, Wobbegongs do! they're nocturnal!! sleepy stationary sharks for the sleepy boy

Diavolo

is a great white.

as previously mentioned, looks scary, but is a babie

Barbatos

lemon shark;

also as previously mentioned with Lucifer, looks scary, but is very nice and protective of those he's fond of.

Luke & Simeon

both are Angel sharks, but luke is also a lantern shark because he litol

for the angel shark case, Angel's are. SO chill. they're not giant fans of humans but sometimes they'll let divers pick them up n stuff!

if i am to go off of vibes specifically:

Lucifer, Satan, and Diavolo are all great whites. scary looking.

Asmo is a baby salmon shark. cutie.

Mammon is a spinner shark. speedy cutie.

Beel is a whale shark. babie.

Belphie is a bull shark. pretty, asshole.

Levi and Solomon are reef sharks. skidish, pretty, can be an asshole.

Barbatos is a lemon shark. scary, pretty.

Luke is a lantern shark. little.

Simeon is an angel shark. angel.

Thirteen is a chain catshark. pretty.

[alittlemoth]

More Licorice (romantic? Yeah romantic) headcanons

Licorice cookie would love laying on his partners lap or stomach.

He's very thin so no matter what your shape is he can steal your clothes and fit in.

Kiss his forehead when cuddling. Do it.

Pepper kisses all along his face he will melt!

Either meet you because he's digging through your trash like some sort of goblin looking for bones from chicken or fish or anything really he's a necromancer he needs the bones.

The dark magic has slowed down his metabolism significantly so he's a little colder than normal and has a slightly slower heartbeat wrap him up in blankets and just cuddle him he will be so happy

You have to be nice to bat cat and choco werehound brute they are his family and if you're mean to them he doesn't like you.

It's Canon that he can sew that's so if you notices your favorite shirt is starting to have holes in it or anything similar he will fix it without even saying anything cuz he's the best.

When you two go on walks he'll pick up roadkill while being really excited like you told a kid who just got McDonald's, bones are hard to come by!

He will melt if you do it for him or if you buy frozen rodents he will be so happy.

[marcos-scorpion]

One Day - Felipe Drugovich x Reader

erm,, surprise ! my housemate gave me a lil writing challenge to try and get over my writers block, and this is the result ! it was meant to be a lil 500 words or less hurt comfort drabble but ended up just over 800 words (sorry aves i tried lmao). i actually quite like this, despite writing it super quickly while pulling an all nighter because we have people coming to view our house. hope you enjoy,, request are open !!

also,, this is not hate to Aston Martin or Lance Stroll at all, i just thought this would be cute ! lemme know if you enjoyed

editing a few hours later to add- i am not angry with lance stroll. i actually really like lance stroll, and i’m glad he is well enough to race. this quite literally an x reader fanfic. it is not real. felipe will get his chance. i was just trying to break my writers block, and i had been explaining to my housemate the whole reserve driver thing so this is what i came up with. can people pls stop sending me angry anon messages now ? thanks

xoxo,

mothie

warnings- sad felipe, mentions of a broken wrist (lance stroll)

wc- 832

——

He had been so sure this was it. That this was his chance to show the world what he was capable of, that he was deserving of a full-time F1 seat, and that he deserved it soon. 

Aston Martin had told him very little in the days after pre-season testing in Bahrain. There had been a few compliments, plenty of small complaints. He had taken it all on board graciously. He knew that Lance had done some nasty damage in his cycling accident, leading to metal screws being used to hold the bones in his wrist together. He was hopeful, the fans were hopeful, hell even the reporters were hopeful that Felipe was going to make his official F1 race debut this weekend. 

He had spent days pacing around his hotel room as his girlfriend watched anxiously from the bed, desperately checking his phone at every small notification, even reaching for his phone when his girlfriend’s chimed and not his. The rumours surrounding Sebastian Vettel replacing Stroll for the weekend had been his first hurdle, but watching the fans rally for him was comforting, and he got a slight relief when they announced that, should they need a reserve driver, the seat would go to the F2 Champion. 

On the Thursday, the day before the first Grand Prix weekend of the 2023 season would fully begin, Felipe was still hopeful. His grin had been bright as he left his hotel room, a cheery goodbye to his barely-awake girlfriend as he left for a team meeting. The girl sprawled across the bed was less sure than her boyfriend, an uncomfortable pit was settled in her stomach as she began her day. 

Her fears were confirmed less than an hour after Felipe had left for his meeting as a notification lit up her phone. Aston Martin had posted on Instagram. Opening the post, it confirmed that Lance, despite his broken wrist, would be racing this weekend. Heart sinking at the thought of the loss of Felipe’s smile, she prayed that he had at least been told by the team, and hadn't had the misfortune of learning through a meagre Instagram post. 

Waiting for him to return to the hotel room did nothing to calm the girl down. Her sadness over what this could have meant for Felipe had been replaced by anger. How dare Aston Martin not let Felipe know sooner, gave him a chance to take in the information before they posted about it. Despite not being a professional in anything vaguely related to Formula One, even she thought it was stupid letting a man with a freshly broken wrist drive a brand-new F1 car he hadn’t had a chance to test, while they had Felipe raring to go, having driven the car in testing. Of course, she knew it was rightfully Lance’s place to drive, but surely it was best to make sure he healed fully and properly, to ensure he could race for as much as the season as possible, even if he would be upset to miss the season opener. 

The anger was still bubbling in her chest as she continued her morning routine, waiting for the familiar click of the hotel door that would tell her Felipe was back. She didn’t know where to direct her anger. There was no real place for it. It obviously isn’t Felipe’s fault, or Lance’s, but it isn’t also Aston Martin’s fault for wanting their full time driver lineup ready to go for the first race. Scrubbing harder at her face, she knew she needed to calm down. Felipe was going to return disappointed, and she would need to be there for him. 

Settling back onto the bed once she was a little more calm, her heartbeat skipped a little at the buzz of a keycard being swiped in the hotel room’s lock. His head was down as he walked in, floppy hair messy and hanging over his eyes. 

“Querido,” she began, her features softening as he met her eyes, “Come here my love.” 

Offering him a sad smile, she opened her arms as he dropped onto the bed. Pressing his face into the crook of her neck, he took a deep breath. Gently, she slipped a hand against his jaw, encouraging him to look at her. 

“One day, baby, you’ll be there. You’ve come so far, and you are going to go so much further. I can’t pretend to understand their logic, but one day, you’ll get your chance. And then they will all realise you are as amazing as I have always known. Just don’t forget me when you’re up on that podium.” 

He let out a gentle chuckle, pressing his forehead against hers. A quiet ‘thank you, baby’ slipped from between his lips before they met hers. She knew he would be ok, and she knew that one day, her Felipe would finally be seen, finally get the chance he deserved. And she would be right by his side. Always.