#the changes a human being can go through...

[genderkoolaid]

god. sometimes the insane interconnectedness of human life just hits you.

so I was looking at the Wikipedia page of Joan Trumpauer Mulholland, a white woman who was a Freedom Rider during the Civil Rights Movement. you may have seen a post about her before, and I recommend reading up on her; she lead a very brave life and I think she is up there with John Brown in terms of role models for white people in America who put in the work to resist white supremacy. And she's still alive! She's 83 right now.

So I'm reading about her life and get to the subheading Michael Schwerner, which discusses how she "an "orientation" on what you need to know about being a white activist in the state of Mississippi" to the Jewish activist and his wife Rita. I had never heard of him, or if I had I'd forgotten him. He was murdered alongside two others (James Chaney, who was Black, and Andrew Goodman, who was also a white Jew) by the KKK in 1964. I also recommend reading up on this.

So I naturally want to know more about Michael Schwerner and these murders, because you can never know enough about injustice and resistance. So I go to his Wikipedia page, and at find this at the bottom of his "Early Life" section:

"As a boy, Schwerner befriended Robert Reich, who later became U.S. Secretary of Labor. Schwerner helped protect Reich, who was smaller, from bullies."

Robert Reich actually talked about Michael on his Substack two years ago (here) and how the news of the murder of the boy who defended him from bullies opened his eyes to bullying on larger levels: "Before then, I understood bullying as a few kids picking on me for being short — making me feel bad about myself. After I learned what happened to Mickey, I began to see bullying on a larger scale, all around me. In Black people bullied by whites. In workers bullied on the job. In girls and women bullied by men. In the disabled or gay or poor or sick or immigrant bullied by employers, landlords, politicians, insurance companies. I saw the powerful and the powerless, the exploiters and the exploited. It seemed as if the world had changed, but I had changed. I had a different understanding of the meaning of justice. It became as personal to me as were the bullies who called me names and threatened me in school and on the playground — but larger, more encompassing, and more urgent."

I mostly wanted to share this because it was a surprise to see the father of Tumblr's most beloved nepo baby Sam Reich being brought up while reading about the resistance to white supremacist violence. But on a deeper level, isn't it just incredible how life works. How everything touches each other somehow. Last night I watched a show hosted by the son of the former U.S Secretary of Labor, who was protected from bullies as a child by a boy who would grow up to become a Civil Rights Activist, who's eyes were opened to systemic injustice by the violent murder of that boy, give his friend and employee One Hundred Thousand Dollars because he's been grieving and struggling and he wanted to do something nice for him. And that same employee also previously donated $3,000 won on the same show to a local nonprofit that helps domestic abuse survivors, in honor of his mother who advocated for that nonprofit, and him doing that publicly encouraged others to donate $8,000 over the next two weeks, money that came while they were experiencing budget cuts, which they used to feed people in need and provide social services, people who may never know any part of that story.

There are so many people that have lived lives we don't remember. But just living and being around other people leaves an impact even if it's not recorded. We are all a part of each other's lives, and we survive through each other just as much as ourselves.

[eyekoninurarea]

Your Idol: Blurb

-> daniela avanzini x dark idol!reader x sophia laforteza

authors note: this blurb isn't canon :)) just for fun, just something to keep my writing going while I'm writing chapter 7. got lazy and eepy towards the end hehe sowwy, ily guys <3

tag(s): DARK, death, blood, nsfw, suggestive, hints of mafia family, serial killers, morality is missing, sodani being obsessive girlfriends, they really said match my freak

You didn’t know the exact moment your obsession with the girls snapped.

It wasn’t the kind of obsession that made you want to be around them constantly, or even speak to them more than necessary. You loved them, yes you really did, but in the way the earth loves the moon: silently, obsessively, orbiting them over and over again without ever demanding to be seen.

But somewhere between the fifth death threat and the hundredth racist comment under their fancams, something inside you fractured. Quietly. Cleanly.

You weren’t desperate for love. You weren’t crazed. You weren’t even parasocial. You were methodical. Controlled. Loyal.

And you tried, truly, you tried to keep it all in check. But eventually, something in you simply… snapped.

Why hold back when you had the power to do something about it?

So when the hate began to multiply; the racist slurs, the grotesque body-shaming, the slut jokes, the veiled death threats masquerading as criticism, it wasn’t emotion that guided your hand.

It was justice. Your kind of justice. The one that acts swift and leaves blood in its wake.

It began with a phone call.

“Josephine,” you said.

A pause. “Ma’am?”

Your voice was calm. Almost bored. “I need someone erased. Can I trust you with it?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, a smile in her voice.

“Finally,” your cousin-in-law hummed. “Are you officially dabbling in the family business?”

“Perhaps. Will it get me cleaner kills?”

“…Who?”

“Haters.”

A sharp inhale. “Your haters?”

“KATSEYE’s,” you corrected, coolly. “Racists. Homophobes. Sexists. Especially anyone targeting their bodies, their accents, or their talent. Track IPs. Assess risk. If they’re teenagers or someone who might change, scare them. If they show patterns? If they’re dangerous? Persistent?”

You exhaled, slow and flat.

“Eliminate them.”

You stared down at your phone showing Sophia’s face, still shining from the latest fancam, now defiled by a deepfake circulating through comment threads. The replies laughed. Cheered it on. Called her a whore.

Your lips curled, just slightly, your anger simmering beneath your skin.

Your girls were far too sacred to be dragged through the filth of humans like that.

Josephine didn’t need more context.

And behind you, Cami let out a low whistle. “God, I love when you get like this.”

It started slow. You wanted it to start slow.

A hate account vanished. A TikTok troll who called Daniela “a diversity hire with no talent” went missing on a hiking trip. Her last post? “KATSEYE will never succeed, they're just glorified strippers.”

Gone. Just like that.

At first, it was just you, Josephine, and the hundreds of hitmen your family has. But soon enough, your girls wanted in.

They didn’t want to just watch from the sidelines anymore. They wanted blood on their hands too, or at least to know whose hands it was on.

You warned them. Told them this wasn’t just a gray area, it was full red.

They only said:

“If not us, then who?”

Three weeks later, the imbeciles started disappearing in batches.

The girl who mocked Yoonchae’s accent during a livestream? Never came home from school. Her friends whispered about a kidnapping. The police found nothing.

A popular account that slut-shamed Megan and Lara across multiple platforms? Her Instagram went dark. Her Discord was deleted. Her apartment is untouched. Too untouched. As if she just vanished out of thin air.

Rina handled the digital side.

“I scrubbed her completely,” she said, fingers tapping across her pink laptop.

“Her mom thinks she eloped with a girlfriend. Nobody’s even looking.”

Cami once befriended a girl who doxxed Megan. Pretended to be a fan. They exchanged playlists for a week.

Then the girl’s house caught fire. The officials ruled it as: “faulty wiring”

“Faulty wiring, my ass,” Hana muttered afterward, sipping red wine from a chipped mug.

“She had it coming.”

But no one ever made the connection. Not to you. Not to your group.

How could they?

You were SYRE, the doe-eyed center of SIREN5, ethereal and soft-spoken, yet snaps into a sinfully seductive role on stage, a darling of the public with a pristine record and the smile of someone too precious to lie. You giggled over memes, shyly hid behind members in interviews, posted fanart with shaking hands and fuzzy captions. You wore oversized hoodies and blinked slowly when asked about scandals.

In public, you were always with your girls, especially now, with Daniela and Sophia. Always doting, always nearby. Sophia adjusting your mic. Daniela tugging your hoodie strings. You, being led like a sleepy pup.

And your family money? It erased everything.

Not even the KATSEYE girls suspected a thing.

But SIREN5 knows.

They knew everything, every order, every cleanup, every blood-slicked detail. They were your sisters. Your shadows. Your alibis.

They never questioned you. Because they knew what this industry could do to a girl. They knew what it meant to be hated for breathing, for being queer, too loud, too dark, too light, too bold, too foreign. Too visible.

The world thought the tide was changing. That maybe people were just growing kinder.

Daniela once texted you:

“It’s been weeks without a single hate comment. That’s… new. I don't know if that's good or not...”

You stared at the message for a while. Then glanced up.

Hana was sharpening a knife.

Cami was tagging usernames on a hate thread, forwarding them to Josephine.

Rina was running metadata on a suspicious Discord server.

Amara, curled on the floor, hummed an old lullaby, the same one she whispered once to a girl who’d begged for her life.

In the background, Sophia laughed through her livestream, her voice light and teasing:

“I think our fans are behaving now. Every time someone posts hate, they just… vanish. Like it’s a curse.”

The chat exploded with laughter, skull emojis, and ironic “🕯️manifesting🕯️” comments.

You smiled, soft and sweet. Demure. Soafer Demure.

But behind your eyes? Still. Cold. Quiet. Anger.

You never laid a finger on any of them.

You never had to.

You gave the order.

And they were gone.

For the longest time, it was about control. Precision. A quiet kind of justice tucked neatly into whispered phone calls and encrypted instructions. You handled it the way you handled everything else in your life: surgically clean, devoid of mess, covered in silk and wrapped in charm.

But then everything changed.

Sophia. Daniela. Your beloved girls.

You weren’t just protecting idols anymore. You were protecting your lovers. The only two people in this industry, in this life, who had seen your soul and kissed the blood from your teeth.

And that meant the stakes were different now. The hate wasn’t just theoretical, something to scroll past and log. It was real. You saw the way it clung to them.

You held Sophia while she shook after reading one too many comments dissecting her appearance, calling her “plastic,” “talentless,” “unearned.”

You kissed Daniela’s cheeks dry after she spiraled in silence for hours, struggling with accusations that she only made it this far because of her body.

You watched Megan’s smile falter during a livestream, fingers fumbling over the screen as the word “disproportionate” lit up in the comments. Watched her fake a laugh. Watched her eyes go dim.

You saw Manon freeze at the corner of the practice room, overhearing staff make offhand remarks about “attitude problems” and “black girls always being too much.” She didn’t cry, not then, but she didn’t need to. You felt the way her walls went up.

You walked in on Lara crying in the dance studio bathroom, wiping at her face in harsh swipes. She couldn’t even form the words, but the screenshots she showed you were enough. Slurs. Homophobic bile. Racist garbage. All because she existed.

And Yoonchae…

You stood outside the dorm’s living room, hearing the choked sobs in Sophia’s arms.

“They’re waiting for me to turn 18,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“They say my accent’s annoying. That I’m fake american. That I should just go back to Korea…”

You saw red. You breathed red. No one else would lift a finger. But you?

You had the means. You had the money. And more than anything else, you had the resolve.

Your schedule began to shift. Appearances were spaced out just enough to throw off suspicion. Performances timed perfectly to flood the search algorithms and bury certain articles. Your team had learned long ago not to ask questions. Especially not Josephine. Especially not when you said, “Add them to the list.”

The list was long now.

Fake usernames. VPN traces. Anonymous messages.

It didn’t matter. They always left a fingerprint. A digital breath. One your team could track like a scent. And slowly, your reach extended. Journalists started receiving hush funds. Threats. Or… silence.

Some disappeared entirely.

And through it all, KATSEYE shined brighter. Clearer. Untouched.

You watched them laugh again, play around again, breathe again without knowing what it cost.

You were a shadow at their backs. Always there. Always watching. Because your girls didn’t need to know about the filth. Didn’t need to see the blood.

Not when it was already coating you from head to toe.

Not when their only job was to sing, to dance, to live out their dreams.

And you? You would bear the sins. You’d do it again. You’d do it a thousand times over. For them.

Always for them.

But then, there's just no end to them. They popped out again.

It started with Megan. She smiled that day. Practiced for hours. Got everything right on stage. Came off beaming.

And then someone posted a clip slowed down to .25 speed: an edited freeze-frame of her mid-turn, paired with captions saying her body looked “freakish.” Called her “malformed.” Said “Hybe is collecting mutants.”

You took the phone from her hands gently. You deleted the comment. You told her she was perfect. You held her until she stopped shaking.

You watched the others slowly fall asleep in the dorm that night.

And then… your phone buzzed.

Another post. Another thread.

This time, a photo from Lara’s past; cropped, edited, layered with text that twisted her queerness into mockery and her heritage into a punchline. Hundreds of likes. Thousands of views.

And then, a private message.

To Yoonchae.

You read the contents twice.

Then a third time.There were pictures. Zoomed-in edits. A countdown. Words that said things no child should ever read. No person should ever read.

And it was the final straw.

Your breathing slowed. And then you saw red. Again.

But this time, your fingers didn’t reach for the team chat. You didn’t type the usual order.

You reached for your coat.

You didn’t knock on his door. You waited.

Waited for him to come home like any other night. Headphones in. Grocery bag in one hand. Phone open to whatever platform he was frothing on today.

He didn’t even look up before he reached the top of the stairs. He didn’t have time to scream. He didn’t deserve it.

And you? You didn’t feel the usual chill of detachment. The professionalism. The clean satisfaction of a loose end tied.

You felt rage. Your hand wrapped around his throat so easily. Honestly, he should've worn a scarf of something, his throat just seemed so chokable. He's making it so easy, he must want it as well. He must want someone to end his miserable life for him.

He looked so normal. Pathetic. A twenty-something in a hoodie who lived off instant noodles and the suffering of strangers.

You said nothing. You didn’t need to. You pressed your thumb under his jaw until you felt something crunch. He hit the floor, limp.

You didn’t blink. You only adjusted your gloves. Called who needed to be called. Left through the back alley like a whisper in the wind.

You made it back before anyone woke up. But your eyes were bloodshot.

And your hands? No matter how hard you scrubbed, they still felt warm. Still trembled with something feral. Alive. Addictive. Obsessive.

When Sophia wandered in the next morning, sleep-heavy and yawning, she paused mid-step.

“Baby?”

You looked up too fast. She stared.

Then Daniela appeared behind her, hair tousled, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. They both froze.

You smiled. Too wide. Too late. Too practiced.

You really thought you were hiding it well.

The late nights. The sudden schedule changes. The obsessively cleaned shoes. The ghost-like calm you wore whenever one of their names trended for the wrong reason, then suddenly didn’t.

You thought you were careful.

But you underestimated your girlfriends. By a lot.

Sophia had always been sharper than she let on, soft smiles and dreamy eyes hiding a mind so sharp it's terrifying. And Daniela? She was trained to perform, to lead, to hunt down the beat of any room. She didn’t miss shifts in rhythm. She didn’t miss you.

And you, idiotically, hopelessly, pathetically in love, never stood a chance.

So when they cornered you one night in your shared bedroom, you already knew.

Sophia leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, eyes unreadable but gleaming. Daniela sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, fingers steepled under her chin.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

“You know,” Sophia said, voice light as air, as she peeled the label off her water bottle with slow, deliberate fingers

“At first I thought it was just a coincidence.”

“The way the hate disappeared overnight. Too clean. Too fast.” Daniela said as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed as her gaze slid over you like silk turned to steel.

Your laugh came too quick, too thin.

“Maybe the world finally came to its senses. Maybe they saw hos hard you worked for this.”

Sophia’s laugh wasn’t kind.

“Right. And all those deleted posts, the articles that vanished without a trace? Divine intervention?”

“Mahal, come on. That’s just the internet! Things go missing all the time.” You forced a smile. Willed your hands to stop twitching. Tried to keep your voice steady.

But Daniela stood. Not rushed. No drama. Just that slow, terrifying grace she always moved with when she was serious. She stepped forward, each heel click slicing through the air like a blade. Her eyes dropped, then rose to meet yours, unblinking.

“You’ve got blood on your shoes.”

Your stomach twisted so violently it felt like it flipped. You looked down instinctively, as if maybe she was lying. Your mouth opened, then shut again. The words tripped over each other, hopeless.

“I- I didn’t… I can explain, it’s not what-”

“We know,” Sophia said, voice lower now, almost gentle.

Daniela stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel her warmth seep into your skin.

“We’ve always known.”

And just like that, you broke.

The weight of it all finally snapped your spine. Your knees hit the floor with a thud you barely registered, and your hands trembled as they braced the ground. You bowed your head like a sinner on the verge of death, begging for salvation, breath shallow and stuttering. You weren’t crying. Not yet. But you were right on the edge of shattering.

“I didn’t want you to know,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Not because I’m ashamed. Not because I thought you’d hate me. But because I couldn’t- couldn’t stand it if you looked at me like I’m a monster. If you left. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Crushing. Your pulse thudded in your ears like a countdown to heartbreak.

Then Sophia let out a quiet, awestruck laugh.

“Oh my God.”

You blinked up, dazed. She crouched beside you, her hand trailing along your back.

“That’s so hot.”

Daniela dropped to her knees in front of you, cupping your face with both hands like it was something fragile and holy. Her thumbs brushed your cheeks, eyes dark and dilated.

“Our killer,” she murmured. “On her knees. Trembling. Sweet. Mine.”

“Ours.” Sophia corrects, hands still wandering

“Wait…what?” You blinked, lips parted.

Sophia slipped in behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“You did all that for us?”

“For the others too. They didn’t deserve that kind of hate. Not even for a second.” You hesitated before answering

“You’re completely insane.” Sophia grinned against your neck, warm breath teasing your skin.

“And completely ours,” Daniela whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead: slow, reverent, like a vow.

Sophia’s hand slid under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers, your back arched to accommodate the stretch your neck is doing.

“We love every dangerous, obsessive, protective piece of you.”

“But next time?” Daniela murmured, brushing her thumb over your trembling lips.

“Let us help.”

Your chest hitched. You stared between them, heart beating so hard it hurt.

“You’re not mad?”

Sophia kissed your cheek.

“Darling. We’ve been waiting for you to crack."

Daniela’s hands drifted down your throat, thumbs stroking over your pulse.

“You really thought we wouldn’t notice? You really thought we didn’t know the difference between insanity and love?”

“You’re the only one who thinks it’s wrong,” Sophia said.

“We see it for what it is.”

“I was so scared of losing you.” Your voice came out hoarse, broken. Sophia leaned in, her lips brushing yours.

“Good.”

And then she kissed you; hard, deep, claiming and upside down.

Daniela pulled you closer, her hand sliding into your hair as she kissed along your jaw.

“Because you’re never losing us,” she murmured.

“We’d burn the world down before we let you go.”

You gasped, melting between them, every inch of you undone. A killer. A monster.

But right now, you were just theirs.

And nothing had ever felt more dangerous or more right.

You didn't even realize you were shaking until Sophia ran her hand down your spine: slow, soothing, cruel in its tenderness.

“Breathe, baby,” she cooed.

“You’re safe. You’re with us.”

Daniela’s lips brushed your cheek.

“You did all that for us… and still thought you had to hide? If that isn't love, I don't know what is, my love.”

Their hands were everywhere: warm, reverent, possessive. Your head was still spinning from the fact they weren’t horrified. They weren’t running. They were close. Closer than ever.

You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your throat was too tight. Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut as Sophia’s mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Bet you were so careful,” she whispered, her fingers sliding into your hair.

“Scrubbing blood off your hands, pretending like you’re just some soft little thing.”

“You are soft,” Daniela murmured, lips against your collarbone now.

“Just with us. No one else, hm? ”

Their praise should’ve grounded you. Instead, it burned.

“She’s so warm,” Sophia sighed, curling around your back.

“I can feel her shaking.”

“You’re still on your knees, baby. Phia, look at her on her knees. She looks so good.”

Daniela slipped her hands beneath your shirt, running her palms up your sides.

You whimpered: small, involuntary, humiliating.

“God, look at her. One whisper from us and she falls apart.” Sophia chuckled darkly.

“I imagined her slitting a man's throat with that calm empty look in her eyes.” Daniela said, voice dripping with pride.

“But now? She’s blushing. Hiding her face like we haven’t already seen every inch of her.”

“Mm, we've never had her like this.” Sophia said.

“Not broken open like this.”

“Not ours like this,” Daniela agreed, tilting your chin up again.

“Look at me.”

You obeyed, helpless. Like a dog on a leash.

Daniela kissed you slow: claiming, open-mouthed, so deep your spine curved with it.

“She tastes like desperation,” Sophia moaned beside you.

“God, I want to ruin her.”

“We will,” Daniela mumured the promise, not breaking the kiss.

It was dizzying. Their mouths, their hands, the way they looked at you now. Like you weren’t just theirs but something precious. Something to be handled carefully even while being devoured.

“Say it,” Sophia whispered as her hand pressed between your thighs.

“Say you belong to us.”

“I-” Your voice broke on a gasp.

“I belong to you.”

“Again.”

“I belong to you,” you choked.

“Both of you. Always.”

“Good girl,” Daniela breathed, kissing the corner of your eye.

“Our beautiful, murderous girl.”

Sophia laughed low in her throat. “She really killed for us, Dani.”

“And she’ll do it again,” Daniela said, smiling against your skin.

“Won’t you, baby?”

You nodded desperately. “Anything. I'll do anything for you.”

They didn’t stop smiling. Didn’t stop touching. They never would.

And you never wanted them to.

[jkkyks]

Secrets.06

“You Called?”

He is in another country for a match

Content : +18 content ahead and…idk JUST PURE LOVE? + kylian being under stress.

This series offers a closer, more honest look at Kylian Mbappé. By exploring his habits, routines, and subtle reactions IF HE WERE YOURS, it aims to reflect the real Kylian as accurately as possible: always human.

Inside Kylian’s Head :

I don’t know why I called her.

Well… that’s a lie.

I called her because tonight feels heavier than usual. Because the silence in this damn hotel room is louder than the press, louder than the fans, louder than even my own thoughts. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

She’s in another country. Probably asleep, busy, tired. Its past midnight in her time zone,

But I press her name anyway.

My Y/N ♡ Ringing..

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

I almost hang up.

Then—

“Ky?”

Her voice.Soft. Sleepy. Mine.

“…Did I wake you?” I ask, knowing full well I did.

“Of course you did,” she mumbles, but there’s no edge in her tone. Just concern. Warmth. “But I don’t care. What’s going on?”

My chest tightens. My hands are already shaking, and I haven’t said anything yet.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I whisper. “I feel like I’m… slipping. Like something inside me is unraveling and I don’t know how to stop it.”

She’s quiet, listening. I picture her, hair messy, eyes half-closed, phone pressed to her cheek. And I hate how far she is. How much I need her right now.

“Training was a disaster. I couldn’t focus. I snapped at Bellingham . Coach lost it on me. Then I had to walk past a wall of cameras just to get into my own building, and they—” I pause. Swallow the bitter taste. “They said I’ve changed. That I’m arrogant. Me being in real madrid is a mistake and useless.”

I let out a dry laugh. “And maybe they’re right.”

She still doesn’t say anything. Just breathing. Letting me fall apart without judgment. Always knowing how much I don’t need advice, I just need someone to listen, she’s always been my perfect listener.

“I don’t feel like me anymore, Y/N. Not the version of me you used to love. Not the one who used to make you laugh over burnt pancakes and kiss your forehead like it was holy.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, press my hand to my chest.

“Do you still love me?” I don’t mean to ask. But I do.

“Because sometimes I wonder if I’m still the man you chose. Or if I already lost him somewhere along the way.”

I bite down on my lip. Hard.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t Kylian Mbappé?”

Then her voice, like an anchor, finally interrupting my overthinking.

“I never loved Kylian Mbappé. I loved you. You Kylian.”

“ The one who talks too fast when he’s nervous. The one who apologizes too much, even when he doesn’t need to, because he never wants to be the reason someone else hurts. The one who can’t hide his pride. The one who always gives all of him in everything. The one who loves stupid cliché memes. The one who sends me reels & tiktoks even when he is out with his friends. The one who texts me every tiny detail of his day, even when he knows I’m too busy to reply, just so I don’t miss a moment of him. The one who calls me at midnight even though he’s scared he’s being a burden.” She chuckles at the end , making me smile through my chest ache and then continued.

“I still love you. Not less. Not from far. Not because you’re perfect. But because you’re real. You are human Ky, you can’t be perfect and you don’t have to be. You’re my love, my best friend, my man.”

My chest caves. I press the phone tighter to my ear like I can hold her through it.

“…Can you stay on the line?” I whisper. “Just… until I fall asleep. I don’t wanna feel alone tonight.”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course amour.”

And somehow… even from here, I finally breathe.

I wake up to sunlight pouring through the windows, sharp and almost offensive.

My phone’s still in my hand.

It takes me a second to remember, the call. Y/N. Her voice in the dark.

I check the screen. Battery almost dead. The call ended hours ago. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I must’ve drifted off with her still on the line. I hold the phone for a second longer than I need to. Like maybe I’ll hear her again if I just listen hard enough.

God, I miss her.

I rub my eyes, drag myself to the kitchen, make a half-assed cup of coffee I don’t really want. The apartment’s still too quiet. The weight on my chest is lighter than last night , but not gone.

Then my phone buzzes.

Voice message from My Y/N ♡.

Sent 7 minutes ago.

I press play.

Her voice fills the room. Soft. Calm. But there’s something else there, something I can’t place yet.

“Hey, mon cœur… You looked so tired last night. I could hear it in every word. I wish I could’ve held you for real. I hated being so far. I hated not being able to do more than just… stay on the line.”

She pauses.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you, Ky. You never did. You’re allowed to feel heavy. I just want to be the one who helps you carry it.”

Another breath. Then, softer:

“Anyway… don’t get used to waking up alone. Not for long.”

I blink. Wait—

Don’t get used to waking up alone?.

I’m still processing it when there’s a knock at the door.

I freeze.

No one ever knocks this early. My mind runs wild, press? Delivery?

Another knock. Then—

“Ky? Open up.”

Her voice.

Real.

Her voice. At my hotel door.

I swear I stopped breathing.

I run, actually run ,across the hotel suite, nearly trip over the damn rug. I fumble with the lock, fling the door open—

And there she is.

Hair in a loose ponytail. A hoodie way too big for her, mine. A suitcase at her side and eyes already glassy, like she’s been crying too.

I just stare.

She gives me the tiniest smile. “Surprise.”

I don’t even answer. I just pull her into me. Hard. Like if I let go, the world will start falling apart again.

She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her face into my chest.

I bury my nose into her hair and whisper against her skin:

“You came.”

She nods against me.

“I couldn’t stay away. Not when you needed me.Not when you called like this yesterday”

I close my eyes.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks…

I breathe easy.

She’s lying in my bed like she’s always belonged, hair messy, eyes soft, hoodie too big for her body, and somehow, still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I’m semi above her, fingertips brushing across her cheek, her jaw, her lashes. I’m trying to memorize her again, like I haven’t seen her in years, not just weeks.

She looks up at me, gently. “You okay?”

No. I’m not. I’m not okay. I love her too much.

“You dropped everything,” I murmur. “For me.”

“I wanted to,” she says, running her fingers through my barely grown curls.

“But your job. Your meetings. The conference. The people counting on you—”

Her hand moves to my cheeks. “You’re the one I choose, Ky. Always.”

I can’t hold it in anymore.

I start kissing her face. Her cheeks. Her nose. Her eyelids. Her chin. Her forehead. Again and again. One after the other, slow, desperate, like if I stop, I might fall apart again. Hearing her giggles heals me.

“I didn’t know how bad I was getting until I heard your voice last night,” I whisper against her skin. “You made everything quiet. You’re the only thing that ever does.”

Then I see it.

Her hand, resting on my chest now.

The glint of the ring on her finger.

My ring.

The one I gave her when I promised forever and proposed.

And something inside me just… breaks wide open.

I reach down, gently take her hand in mine. My thumb brushes over the ring , and I swear I feel the earth tilt.

I look at her.

Really look.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. That face I want to wake up to for the rest of my life. I don’t want her to be my fiancée anymore.

“We need to get married,” I say, my voice low and shaking. “This month.”

She blinks. “What?”

“I can’t wait anymore, Y/N. I know we said next year, or after the season, when things calm down. But I don’t want to wait. I’m done pretending time will make me readier. This—you—you’re all I’m sure of.”

I press her hand to my chest, right over my heart.

“Every time I’m away from you, I feel like I’m bleeding out slow. And every time you leave, I start counting the minutes until you come back.”

I kiss the ring, gently. “So let’s stop pretending we need more time.”

Her eyes start to fill. “Kylian…”

“Marry me. This month. I want to say ‘wife’ instead of “fiancée” when I talk about you. I want to come home to you. I want to have family with you. I want you to grow my kids. I want to love you till my last breath ”

I lean down, my forehead pressed to hers.

“I can’t take another night without you beside me.”

She smiles, that kind of smile that feels like sunrise. Her thumb brushes my cheek, and she nods, her voice barely a whisper.

“Okay.”

“This month.”

I kiss her then. Fully. Deeply. Slowly.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel lost anymore.

Her “okay” still lingers in the space between us, but the second our lips meet again, it dissolves into something deeper , something raw, aching, and infinite.

Our mouths move slowly at first. Like we’re relearning each other’s rhythm. But the tension’s been simmering too long ,days, weeks, maybe even months ,and it spills out of us in desperate kisses, in breathless gasps between words we don’t say.

Her legs are wrapped tight around my waist, pulling me in. Her body fits against mine like it was made for this , like there’s no version of me that ever existed without her. I push the hoodie off her shoulders, kiss every new inch of skin I uncover. Her collarbone. The curve of her shoulder. The soft underside of her jaw. She’s warm and alive and trembling beneath me.

“Kylian…” she breathes, my name already sounding like a plea.

My hands roam her body, slow, reverent ,like I’m committing every contour to memory. I palm her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple, and she arches into my touch like she’s starving for it. I take it into my mouth, sucking gently until she moans, until her fingers tangle in my curls and pull. I can feel the heat radiating from her core, even through the thin fabric of her panties.

“I missed this,” I murmur, voice husky. “Missed you.”

She bites her lip, watching me with glassy eyes as I trail kisses lower,over her stomach, down the line of her hips. I press my lips to the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, feeling her legs tremble on either side of me.

“Don’t tease,” she whispers, breathless.

I hook my fingers around her panties and slide them down, watching the damp fabric cling before it lets go. She’s already soaked. The sight alone makes my cock twitch painfully. I lower my mouth to her center, my hands gripping her thighs as I finally taste her.

She gasps,sharp, broken,as my tongue slides through her folds, slow and deep. I circle her clit, sucking gently, then harder when her hips buck into me.

“Kylian—oh God—don’t stop—”

I won’t. I can’t. I eat her like it’s the only thing I know how to do, like the answer to every one of my questions lives between her legs. She rides my tongue with growing desperation, hips rocking in time with my rhythm, fingers buried in my hair as she falls apart.

I slide two fingers into her, curling just right. She cries out, thighs shaking around my head, her whole body clenching as her orgasm crashes over her. I feel her pulse against my tongue, her back arching off the mattress as she gasps my name again and again.

When she finally collapses, breathing hard, I kiss the inside of her thigh one more time before crawling back up her body.

“You’re shaking,” I whisper, brushing hair from her face.

“You wrecked me,” she says giggling , smiling through the aftershocks. “You always wreck me.”

She reaches down then, when i was slipping my pants off, wrapping her hand around my cock, slow strokes, firm and certain. I groaned low in my throat, the sound guttural, almost animal.

“I want you,” she says. “Please.”

I line myself up, she didn’t even need to say anything, I would have gone insane if I didn’t have her right god damn now, the tip of me brushing her entrance. I meet her eyes, searching for hesitation. There’s none. Only need.

“Look at me,” I whisper as I slide in.

We both moan ,low and deep, as I fill her, inch by inch, until I’m buried to the hilt. She’s so tight, so warm, gripping me like she never wants to let me go.

I still for a moment, forehead pressed to hers, trying not to lose it too fast. Her legs wrap around me again, heels digging into my back.

“Move,” she pleads. “Please.”

So I do.

I start slow. Deep, grinding thrusts that make her breath hitch, that make her cling to me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat. Her nails rake down my back. My mouth finds her neck, her shoulder, her lips.

We lose ourselves in the rhythm, in the slap of skin against skin, in the slick heat of her wrapped around me, in the way our bodies find each other again like they never truly parted. Every thrust feels like a promise. Every gasp a vow.

She comes again with a sharp cry, her body clenching hard around me, pulling me deeper. I’m barely hanging on, teeth gritted, sweat beading at my brow as I push through the wave.

“Fuck— Y/N —I’m gonna—”

She grabs my face, eyes wild and full of something deeper than lust. “Come inside me. I want all of you.”

That’s all it takes. My hips stutter. My jaw locks. I groan her name like a prayer as I spill inside her, deep and hot, our bodies trembling together. It feels endless ,like I’ve emptied every part of me into her and still crave more.

We stay tangled like that for a long time — sweaty, breathless, undone. I kiss her shoulder, her temple, the damp skin behind her ear. She smiles against my mouth, soft and lazy.

“I love you,” I murmur, still buried deep inside her.

She kisses me again. “Always.”

And just like that… the world outside fades.

[genyawritesshizz]

Not A Comet - Johnny Storm X OC

One year after Galactus is defeated Reed discovers another anomaly headed towards Earth. Will this be another herald of death or perhaps an unexpected ally.

We all known Johnny a freak for that sexy space alien cookie well, he's finally gunna get it...eventually. No true smut unfortunately, implied/leads up to it. Mostly fluff and build up to confessions of feelings.

OC is based off of StarFire from Teen Titans, as in she is the same species/race (Tameranian), but this is not a DC/Marvel crossover fic nor is she Koriand'r.

Word count: 13445

DISCLAIMER: I just watched Fantastic Four and though I know little to nothing about the fandom/characters other than what was depicted in the movie I absolutely LOVED Johnny. So, bear with me if there's continuity errors as again, I'm pretty much just going off what I got from the movie

If the characters are OOC I'm sorry :( I tried

Also, I wrote this in like 2 days, so I haven't beta read or edited it at all. I'll be working on that as much as I can over the next day or so, I just had to get it all out ASAP

Ever since the fall of Galactus the skies had been quiet.

Still reeling from its close brush with annihilation, Earth had entered a tense calm. Rebuilding Central city was the easy part. Recovering, fully understanding exactly what happened and why, was the hard part.

The one question that rattled within every human on earth's mind no matter the nationality nor upbringing was something that not even the smartest man alive could answer. At least not publicly.

Was it over?

Reed Richard’s, always the man of mathematical reasoning, knew that stating the cold hard truth of ‘no’, ‘that peace was always a temporary state’ would do nothing much but to bruise already battered mind sets.

But that would not change the simple fact that something always came next.

That something came precisely one year, two months and twelve days after the devourer’s banishment.

It began as a minuscule energy blip at the far end of the Triangulum Galaxy, approximately 2.723 million light years away from Earth. An anomaly certainly caught by Reed's scans, yet so faint it initially appeared to be an energy jet hurtled out from Triangulum’s stellar-mass black hole M33.

But as another beep from his deep space anomaly detectors sounded off within the Baxter Foundations labs rang, notifying Reed of another similar blip of energy, this time emitting from their neighboring galaxy Andromeda, with its rejectors and speed it was clear whatever this was it was getting closer.

Running a deep analysis on the blip revealed rivets of plasma, as to be expect for deep space entities, yet what struck the genius as odd was its composition. No ship. No debris. No engine signature.

Just... a presence.

Organic.

Alive.

It has been less than half a year since the silver herald of Galactus had entered earths orbit speaking of doom, of the end days.

Now another being approaches.

Will they too speak of death? Plague the world with threats of destruction?

“Reed,” Sues voice called out as the labs main entrance elevator opened and she stepped through. “You said five minutes. It’s been ten.”

Dressed for their usual Sunday family dinner in a clean set of denim and blouse, her hair pinned back in an efficient knot, Sue wore a face of slight annoyance. Meanwhile Franklin, their son, nestled snug in a soft gray harness across her chest, quietly stared up at the ceiling as if it held galaxies, his tiny hands gripping onto the fabric of her shirt.

Looking towards her husband, his back still turned to her, she immediately noted his more than usually stiff posture. How his shoulder constricted tightly within his white button down and how his finger gripped around the piece of chalk within them just a bit too much.

“Reed? What’s going on?”

Sighing, her husband placed the chalk down to the metal slab below the board before fully turning towards her. For a brief moment Reed’s gaze softened as it looked down at Franklin’s soft, sleepy face, one of Sue’s blouse buttons clutched within his grasp. He had grown so much in the last year.

Flickering upwards, uncertain brown met worried blue.

“In approximately four days, six hours and twenty seven minutes another entity will arrive on earth.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, Sue nodded. Her hands instinctively came up to cradle around Franklin.

Walking down towards the round central computer, Reed input a few codes before a 3-D map of the Local Group of Galaxies appeared. There the blip pinged as it flew through the middle of the Andromeda Galaxy, passing by one of its numerous black holes.

“Do you think it’s coming to finish what Galactus started?”

“I don’t know.”

Franklin garbled a few coos, a yawn following shortly after.

“What do you think? Of this in general.”

Reed focused on the distant energy ping, it did not spike, didn’t radiate volatility like the energy readings from Galactus’s ship or stray starbolt.

If anything… It was calm.

Controlled.

But so were the herald's readings.

“I think the echo of Galactus’s death has begun to ripple through the stars. And whoever this is… they felt it.”

Sue swallowed. “Do we tell them?”

“Tonight, we tell them tonight. Gives us time to come up with a contingency plan. A strategy. Together.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Humming a gentle tune, spoon firmly grasped within his three digits, HERBIE stirred a pot bubbling atop the stove. The aroma of sautéed vegetables and herbs filled the kitchen. Standing next to the little AI robot Ben flipped the contents of his own pan with comically delicate care.

“Y’know, if Reed and Sue don’t show up within the next five minutes I will start gnawing on Ben.”

“Go ahead and try it matchstick, you’ll be coughin’ dust for the next half hour.”

“Tempting.” Rolling his eyes Ben returned his attention to the task at hand.

“Dinner status: 93% complete. Adjusting spice ratio by 0.6% based on Mr.Grimm’s nasal flaring.”

Since Galactus had crushed the previous HERBIE model, when rebuilding the AI, Reed had added a vocal modulator as well as a few other upgrades.

“I told you it was too much chili powder.” Ben grumbled, side eyeing the flame hero.

Throwing his hands up Johnny dramatically stomped out of the kitchen, his hunger still unquenched and ego bruised.

“All I did was add a little flair, ya know a bit of spice! That’s literally my whole thing!”

Truth be told Johnny has accidentally added chili power when he meant to grab paprika.

Just as he plopped himself down into his designated spot at the dinner table, the main entrance at last slid open.

Sue enters first, Franklin fast asleep cradled within his harness swaddle, Reed right behind her. His face was composed but clearly distracted from his usually clear cut calculated gaze.

Sure they were late, that was normal ever since Franklin was born but with the combination of Reeds unease and Sue clear efforts to mask her own, Ben immediately raised half a unibrowed rocky ridge.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I- what?”

“C’mon, I’ve known you two long enough. You’re both doing that tight-lipped scientist thing. Reed’s not blinking, doing who knows how many calculations in his head and Sue’s got her worried eyes. Something’s up.”

Johnny's sulking immediately dried up, his attitude shifting to skepticism as he sat up in his chair.

“Ben’s right, you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. What happened? You’re not pregnant again right? It’s still too early for that? Not that I wouldn’t mind another nephew but-”

If looks could kill Johnny would’ve been iced over by Sue's piercing side eye.

“No, I’m not pregnant.” She sighs, then clears her throat. As her mouth opens again to continue a fussy cry and throw of small arms takes her attention as Franklin grows sleeplessly agitated. “I’m going to put him down then we can discuss it over dinner.”

The table was tense to say the least. HERBIE happily dished out the plates, though none of the four made any move for their silverware.

Reed took the initiative.

“I discovered an anomaly. It entered the andromeda system approximately eight hours ago and is estimated to arrive within our own system in the next week.”

The news hung like a guillotine over their heads, like at any moment the rope would be cut, and they’d be right back to fighting an all-powerful space being again.

Ben, head shook.

“You think this is another one of Galactus’ sentinels?”

“Its readings are unlike that of the silver herald and of Galactus itself. It is far more explosive, akin to a ray of ultraviolet light more than anything.”

“Then why are we concerning ourselves with it? How do we know this isn’t just some wicked solar flair.” Johnny interjects. 

“I said it’s akin to light. Its composition is organic, living. Exactly what it’s made of I can’t be sure of until it’s closer, thermal scans indicate mostly plasma but organic in carbon structures.”

Johnnie’s expression hardened, lip quirking up at the sides in frustration as his brows furrowed slightly.

“So we’re not going to try and intercept it? Just sit here and eat dinner like a cosmic entity isn’t actively knocking on our doorstep?”

“We still need to eat Johnny.” Sue’s voice was calm, but understanding of her brothers' worry. “Not only that, but the Excelsior is still under repairs, the warp component is nowhere near functional yet. I say we all use this time to ground ourselves before we make any assumptions over the potential magnitude of this thing.”

“We barely beat Galaxctus, now something new is headed this way and it’s not slowing down. What if it’s worse?”

A thick, rocky, hand reached over and grasped onto his shoulder, the rough bumpy texture oddly comforting.

“Then we do what we always do; handle it.”

Unrolling his silverware and placing them into the proper arrangement Reed nods in agreement.

“Ben is right, no matter what we can handle it. Now, let’s eat.”

At last the family relaxed, the tension easing ever so slightly, as they began to dive into the HERBIE made dinner.

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

With reconfiguring tracking metrics monitoring and recalibrating every few seconds, Reed had the anomalies arrival time pinned to the exact moment its light wave would penetrate the earth atmosphere.

It was a typical partly cloudy humid day for Brooklyn at 1:36pm. The city beneath carried on as usual, cars still honked as traffic was forever backed up, people still lined the streets in rushes to get to their jobs from lunch breaks. None the wiser to the potential threat looming above them.

The four decided it best not to raise global awareness of the situation until more information was gathered. Considering every country was still healing from potential annihilation from last year, until they knew for sure this was a threat, they would deal with this themselves.

A light breeze moved across the rooftop of which the Fantasticar had settled on its stabilizers like a bird on a wire. There’s tension thick in the air.

Opening his mini interface panel on his arm display Reed speaks with precision.

“Anomaly breech in T-minus 10 seconds. Atmospheric entrance will begin with light refractions from upper cloud layer disruption, followed by thermal blooms and electromagnetic spikes. Due to cloud coverage and energy levels visibility may be limited.”

With one final squeeze of her husband's hand, Sue leans over to the backseat of the car and adjusts Franklin’s car seat harness once more. The toddler happily none the wiser as he played with his toys.

Ben gave her a curt nod of reassurance, he sat in the back with the baby, she offered a small smile in return before sitting back in her seat.

“How do we know for certain that this thing is even sentient?”

“I’ve ran its flight patterns three times, it’s not just passing through or drifting with the flow of space. It’s actively decelerating here. Whatever or whoever it is, is making the conscious decision to stop here.”

Folding his arms, rocky brows furrowing, Ben turns his gaze to the overhead clouds through the complete 360 dome around the Fantasticar.

“Why is it always Brooklyn? Can’t one of these things land in Jersey for once?”

“Breaking the outer atmosphere is five… four… three… two… one.”

Just above them there was a glimmer.

Not an ear piercing sonic boom. No seismic shockwave.

Just a sudden, soft, flicker of brilliant golden-orange light flickering through the upper cloud bank.

“That’s it?”

“It slowed down significantly, decreasing the expected impact. Just as I predicted, its consciously stopping here.”

Typing into the car's central console, Reed prepared its internal scanners to begin sweeping the area. He wanted a better understanding of exactly what was up there before charging at it.

However not everyone shared this sentiment.

With a loud ‘FWOOOSH’ Flames bursted past them on the rooftop in trails of ash and smoke. The streak of fire, of course, was Johnny in full ‘flame on’ mode. Launching upward high above them in a rush of heat and impulsed adrenaline he completely disregarded their earlier agreed upon orders.

“I’m going up!”

“Johnny fall back! We agreed we would observe first-”

Reed's communications were cut off in Johnny's ear as he muted it for a second before turning it back on.

“Yeah, yeah I know but I’m just giving ‘em a warm welcome!”

The flames vanished into the clouds, leaving only flickering traces of refraction light within the dense sky.

For a moment there’s nothing but static.

Until the orange light returns, not from Johnny, but from whatever descended lower into the atmosphere.

“How much do you wanna bet he’s already flirting with whatever's up there?” Ben retorts, half tense half joking. The other two within the Fantisicar were already dreading whatever Johnny so adamantly had to meet.

The world below was distant. The sounds of the city drowned out far below him as Johnny's flame trails flicker behind him, replaced by churning clouds and distant crackle of energy.

He was expecting a ship. A creature. A threat.

Instead when he broke out of the misty embankment he saw-

The ozone parts like a curtain, from the center of its stage breaches a figure.

Her.

The air around rippled with heat and radiation, though it was not harsh like whipped uncontrolled spikes, but instead warm. Calm. Like sunlight first breaking the dawn. 

Energy streaks behind her from the ends of her long, cascading, curled hair like fire.

Clad in foreign materials of gold and purple with a few red stones decorating the garment, it barely covered much of her radiant orange skin.

Big blue eyes racked over her form for more than a few seconds.

Her legs hovered a few feet above the empty sky Johnny occupied, but her head tilted down towards him, and vivid green eyes brighter than the finest emeralds locking directly onto him.

He holds her gaze. Though for the first time in possibly ever, Johnny has no witty comeback, no pick up line, no slogan.

He is at a complete loss for words.

His flames flicker with his heartbeat for a brief moment.

Quickly adjusting to pull himself together he tries to process what exactly is happening, in turn finding his voice again.

“Definitely not a comet.”

The space woman does not say anything. She just floats there, her gaze never wavering from his, it’s as if she’s assessing him.

Curious but cautious.

‘Think Johnny think, say something to her.’

Lifting his hand slowly, his heart in his throat, he gives a small wave.

“Uh… hey there.”

‘Really man?’

Even his own thoughts, usually filled with self confidence and boastful comments, chastised him for that brilliant introduction.

However the being before him didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness. Instead her head tilted inquisitively. Then she slowly descended lower, now entering level airspace as him.

As she grows closer Johnny's suit sensors blink warnings against the wrist module;

High levels of radiation detected.

But he barely noticed it.

His attention was solely on the alien now in front of him.

Letting out a nervous little laugh he meets her gaze once more. “Don’t suppose you speak English, huh?”

Slowly blinking once, her gaze softens, not in understanding, but with recognition that he was trying.

Thinking on his feet he recalled the languages he had analyzed from the galactic recordings last year.

He was not fluent in most, but knew a few phrases.

“Keareh?” He paused, no reaction. “Ble’va? Sphen’ia?... Are you, uh, recognizing any of this?"

Nothing. But still, she remained neutral, face calm.

Slowly drifting closer towards him he could now tell their immediate height difference, she was easily over six foot. Then there were her eyes, up close Johnny could see no visible pupils, just deep glowing spheres of green.

A few feet in-front of him she stopped, the soft warmth radiating off of her into the airspace around them had now fully enveloped him in its embrace.

Then, her hand slowly reached out, peach colored palm facing him, digits splayed, before stopping just a few centimeters over the circled 4 emblem on his chest.

Logic told him that he should back away, that at any moment she could reach out and unleash god knows what onto him.

Though Johnny was smarter than he oftentimes played himself out to be, he was always a genius at social cues.

And right now, this flaming alien woman was dropping no threats in both body language and expression.

Her hand shifted in the air, her pointer finger now tipped down.

Again the thought of backing up crossed Johnny's mind, but was ultimately ignored.

Softly tapping his chest once, twice, then finally a third her lips part, though the words she spoke were completely foreign.

“Ka’theria’rahn?”

“Kath…er’ahn?” Johnny tried to repeat it, though it failed to follow the same melodic rhythm she used, he may have also missed a few syllables.

However butchered he pronounced it, it still made her smile.

The sight brought a flush of crimson to his cheeks. However, the moment turned tense in an instant as her hand moved up and gripped the white collar of his uniform pulling him closer to her.

Alarms raced through Johnny's nervous system, demanding he jerk away.

But her grip was far stronger than he anticipated.

Before he realized exactly what position he was in and what was happening, there was a warmth blossoming across his lips as the atmosphere grew hot for a moment.

Blue eyes widened in pure shock as realization dawned on him.

She…

She was kissing him?

Johnny, a lover of both women and space, should have been thrilled that a giant sexy space alien woman was kissing him, but he honestly could not find the courage to breathe, much less move. Instead he floated there stunned, lips unresponsive to hers as they moved against them.

A small part of his brain that still managed to think critically reminded him of the possible dangers of this besides the radiation sensors buzzing in his suit. Kissing an alien could very well come with some kind of undiscovered space diseases…

But her lips were so soft.

The kiss was gentle. Not demanding, not forceful. Just… exploratory.

His flames did not burn her. In fact, she did not even flinch, it seemed like she barely noticed the fire at all.

And then it was over.

The kiss broke as quickly as it started. The alien woman gently pulled back from Johnny, a faint warmth lingering between them, her lips remaining parted slightly, and that beautiful smile returning across them. Her gaze refocused intently onto his.

He did not speak. He couldn’t.

Breaking through the clouds the Fantasticar emerged into the same brilliant stratosphere the two floated in, its sleek frame catching beams of light refracted off the anomaly. Or rather, her.

From the cockpit, all eyes locked onto the rather strange and unusual sight before them: Johnny, floating just above Earth’s stratosphere face-to-face with a radiant, orange-skinned alien woman whose hair blazed like wildfire across the sky.

Ben grimaced. “Oh, come on, we leave Matchstick alone for five minutes, and he’s already makin’ out with another space lady?”

Shielding Franklin’s carrier from the light rays with one hand Sue grumbled. “Seriously, Johnny?”

“She appears non-hostile,” Reed ignored the commentary entirely, his eyes glued to the tablet of his wrist component. “Fascinating. Neural intake spikes unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Plasma levels just jumped. That kiss triggered a massive neurological response. Adaptive, not emotional.”

“She kissed me! And no, she's not hostile I don't think...” Johnny barked, defensively throwing up his arms as he floated away from her and toward the car. “Look, I didn’t do anything! She just-, I was trying to talk to her and she-gah, I don’t even know what just happened!”

Feeling awkward shame crawling up his back Johnny began backing away from her and towards the other  four.

However just as he neared the Fantasticar the woman spoke again, only this time her voice was clear.

"Greetings," The moment the word resonated within the fantastic fours ears the world around them seemed to stop just for a moment. "I extend peace to your people. My apologies for the contact, it was necessary."

Johnny blinked, his head whipping back up to her as if she had spontaneously grown a second set of limbs. Though with aliens he supposed that was possible and much more likely than her learning English in of a minute.

Yet it was no trick of the mind, they all had heard it clear as day.

Soon the dots connected...

"That...that kiss was for you to learn English?"

She nodded in response, her posture remaining dignified, hovering just above them as her flame-like hair shimmered in the windless stratosphere. "Yes."

Ben could not help but crack a small mocking smile, a chuckle suppressing itself within his chest.

However, this new revelation caused the atmosphere around them to shift, allowing the tense reality to set back in. Just because she was presenting friendly right now did not mean this was her true intent.

Reed took a careful, diplomatic approach to asking the questions they needed answered. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“I am Varyra'nn of Tamaran."

"And why have you come to Earth?"

"I seek those who defeated the world devourer."

All four grew tense, as stilled silence enveloped around them.

The team watched her through narrowed eyes, muscles half-taut, waiting for something to go wrong at the mere mention of the space deity.

Reed’s brow creased further, yet he remained composed, tone never wavering.

“You mean Galactus.”

Vayra’nn’s emerald eyes flicked to him behind the windshield of the Fantasticar. “If that is what your people call him. The devourer of worlds, the lifeless cosmic world ender. My people knew him only as Xi’ir-Torr’akk. That which silences suns.”

Ben muttered under his breath, “Oh great, she’s poetic too.”

Sue shot him a glance, then spoke up. “And what exactly do you want with the ones who stopped him?”

“I wish only to confirm that he is truly gone,” She paused for a moment, her body slightly losing its distinguished posture. “For centuries I wandered the scorched systems he left behind. My world-my people-were devoured long ago.”

Her voice did not tremble nor falter, yet the gravity of her words was far heavier than any mournful tears.

“Many claimed to stand against him. All failed.” She turned her gaze to Johnny, then back to Reed. “So, when I heard rumors carried by the remains, felt the void of his presence with whispers of Earth’s triumph... I came to see with my own eyes if this world truly did what none before it could.”

Reed’s fingers tapped thoughtfully at his wrist scanner. “If you came all this way just to confirm he’s dead, what then?”

"Now I'm not sure, my life's quest was to see the end of the devourer."

Sue folded her arms. “So, you’re saying you don’t work for him. You don’t plan to finish what he started?"

“I would burn before I ever served Xi’ir-Torr’akk.” Vayra’nn’s voice was steady, but there was a flash in her eyes. Righteous, tempered fury. “I have no interest in conquest. Only truth.”

Johnny, finally recovering his voice, cleared his throat. “Told you she wasn’t bad.”

Ben grunted. “Yeah, but you said that right after she kissed you.”

“She kissed me to learn English!”

Vayra’nn tilted her head slightly, watching the exchange. “It was the only way I could have effectively communicated with you.”

Johnny blinked. “You still could’ve asked.”

“I did, Ka’theria’rahn. You repeated it for confirmation."

Sue couldn’t help it; she snorted out a laugh. But quickly disguised it behind her hand. Even Reed cracked the faintest smile.

The silence after Vayra’nn’s explanation hung for a moment too long, until Sue took a quiet breath and spoke up once more.

"So, from what I understand, you have nowhere left to go?"

“My people are scattered. My planet, consumed. My cause… fulfilled at last. Ultimately no, there is no home to which I might return.”

Ben’s shoulders shifted subtly at that, a familiar weight in the words.

Reed’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing yet.

Vayra’nn continued, her voice even. “I am not unfamiliar with solitude. I can continue on, as I have for decades.”

Sue shook her head.

It did not sit right with her, nor anyone in the Fantasticar.

Johnny’s voice cut in from beside her, quieter than usual. “You don’t have to keep going. You found something else, didn’t you?”

Vayra’nn tilted her head. “Something?”

“You came here,” Johnny said, a little shrug. “That’s something.”

Sue nodded gently. “Stay. Just for now. We don’t know what the future holds, none of us do, but you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

There was a pause.

Then Vayra’nn lowered her head slightly, not quite a bow—something more like solemn acknowledgement. “You would offer shelter to a stranger?”

Sue met her eyes without flinching. “You came in peace and haven’t given us a reason to turn you away.”

“Besides,” Ben rumbled, arms crossing loosely over his chest, “you’ve had a helluva trip. Be a little cold to send you back out there with nothin’ but cosmic dust and memories.”

Reed finally nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “We’ve faced worse for less reason. You’re not the first to find yourself stranded here… and you won’t be the last. I’m also sure you have much to teach us as well.”

Johnny gave a crooked half-smile. “And hey, Earth’s not so bad. Food’s weird, but we’ve got pizza.”

Vayra’nn looked between them, as though trying to process the strange warmth behind their words. A warmth she had not felt in far too long. Her gaze lingered on Sue again. “You are… more merciful than I anticipated.”

Sue offered a small smile. “We try.”

For a breath, it seemed Vayra’nn might say nothing more. But then, quietly, her voice took on a distant softness:

“Then I accept. I will not impose beyond necessity, but… I will remain, for now.”

She straightened again, ever composed, but something in her expression had lighted.

Less the figure head of grace presenting piece. More like a friend.

“Thank you,” she added after a moment, and though the words were formal, they rang with sincerity.

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

The flight back to New York was quieter than expected.

The Fantasticar led the way, carving through the open sky.

Johnny had chosen to fly just behind it instead of his usual habit of blazing past it. He was keeping pace not with the vehicle, but with her.

Vayra’nn flew beside him, arms at her sides, flaming hair trailing behind her like a comet’s tail. There was a natural elegance in her motion, her body guided not by outward propulsion but an effortless, controlled lift.

Johnny kept stealing glances over at her.

At first, they were cautious, almost bashful. She had kissed him merely a few minutes ago...even if it was educational.

But gradually his glances became more frequent. Curiosity bloomed behind his bright blue eyes. Not just because she was, well… an incredibly tall, incredibly powerful, sexy, alien woman. But because there was something else beneath her composed expression. A stillness that wasn’t cold. Something almost… lonely.

"Is something wrong?"

She had noticed his staring.

"No! No, of course, not it's just, uh you’re really good at flying. Like… freakishly good. Not that it’s freaky. I mean, I fly too obviously. It’s cool.” The word 'cool' seemed to catch itself halfway within his throat, as Johnny, embarrassed to be caught in the act, said the first excuse to grace his brain, not a complete lie.

A small smile quirks at the edges of her lips, uncaring to his slight word stumble.

"Thank you, I have had many years of experience."

Clearing his throat the flaming hero hoped the wind would carry away the heat growing across his cheeks.

“Right. Of course. You’ve been doing this a long time. That uh... makes sense.”

"You seem nervous, am I making you uncomfortable?"

“No, you're not making me uncomfortable,” he said, honest now, even if his tone still carried a bit of sheepishness. “I just… I don't think I’ve met anyone like you.”

Vayra’nn tilted her head slightly. “Most have not.”

He smiled faintly at that. “That tracks, it isn't everyday a gal such as yourself comes down from the sky.”

Her smile widens, "It isn't every day I meet someone as open as you either..." There's a moment of silence as her sentence trailed off, a bit tense then it hit him.

He never introduced himself.

'Way to be a real gentleman Johnny.' 

"I'm Johnny by the way, Johnny Storm." She hummed, in response rolling the name around within her mind for a second.

"Well Johnny Storm, it's been a pleasure meeting you so far." 

Now his smile widened.

Flying high above the tops of the foreign cities below, above all the chatter of the hustling streets filled with strange new people, where only the faint breeze of the distant ocean and ozone filtered through, Vayra’nn of Tameran felt something stir within her heart. 

Neither of them truly grasped exactly what they had gotten themselves into that day, but whatever it was, it felt right.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aquamating to Earth’s costumes and societal standards had been a bit of a challenge for Varya’nn. Strange to her for sure, yet she did her best to adhere to it.

Learning that the skin tight body suit she wore was deemed ‘immodest’ was definitely a bit of a culture shock.

Morning light filtered in through the high windows of Vayra’nn’s borrowed bedroom. All was quiet save for the rustle of fabric and the soft hum of the building's systems. She stood tall near the center of the room, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. 

“Immodest, what does that mean? Do I offend you with my clothing? It is traditional Tameranean attire.” Worry edged itself into Varya'nn's voice for she had been on Earth for less than a week and already she had offended the woman who so graciously opened her home to her.

She had never heard of such a word. ‘Modesty? Immodest?’

“No, it's not that, it's just on Earth we don't typically wear things that… exposed unless we’re at the beach.” Sue had chosen her words carefully yet still saying them felt odd. Like explaining to a toddler why it was improper to go outside in underwear.

Standing in the room by its dresser she rummaged through its contents. Most of the clothing within it had once been hers, forever banished to these drawers due to either not fitting or simply not her style anymore. Despite their clear height difference Sue was certain she had to have something in here that would fit.

“On my planet this is considered quite discrete.” That comment earned a small chuckle from Sue as she at last held up a folded pair of jeans and a soft, long sleeved T-shirt.

“Here, these should fit you. They’re pretty standard Earthwear, nothing fancy.”

“Forgive me, but I do not understand. My current attire allows the absorption of solar energy directly into my skin. This…” She lifted the jeans between two fingers with a frown. “This is thick and restrictive. It will lessen my efficiency.”

Sue offered a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I get that. And I agree, you look amazing in what you’ve got on. But Earthlings aren’t used to Tamaranean customs. If you walk down the street like that, people will stare. Whisper. Probably take a lot of photos.”

Vayra’nn’s brow furrowed. “Why would they do this? Do they not also possess bodies?”

“They do. They just have… more rules about them.”

Sue then sat down an odd contraption. 

“What is that?” Picking it up, Varya'nn examined it further. Two thin straps connected a thick band of fabric, the beige material was textured against her fingers in some areas but smooth in others. 

Sue’s eyebrows furrowed, her lips pushing together in a thin line, confliction racing in her mind.

“It's a bra.” 

“A bra? For what purpose does this serve?” The invincible woman let out an exasperated sigh, not one of contentment more so of inner confliction on how she was supposed to explain this.

After 10 minutes of Sue divulging the what, when, and why’s of undergarments the two had reached a bit of a stalemate. 

Then from the hallway, there was a casual knock on the door, at last breaking their stall.

“You two decent?”

Johnny stepped in without waiting for an answer, catching sight of the conversation mid-clothing demonstration. His gaze flicked from the jeans in Vayra’nn’s hands to the perplexed look on her face.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“She doesn’t understand why she needs to cover up,” Sue explained, lightly exasperated but fond.

Vayra’nn turned to Johnny, jeans still dangling in her hands like captured prey. “These are most inefficient.”

Johnny looked at her, then the jeans, then back again and grinned. “Yeah… but you’ll still look great in ’em.”

Her expression didn't change, but her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than expected. “You believe that would improve their function?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not really. But sometimes humans wear things just because they like how they look. Not everything has to be practical.”

Vayra’nn tilted her head slightly. “That is illogical.”

“Welcome to Earth,” Johnny said with a shrug, folding his arms behind his head. “We’re full of that.”

Sue gave her a gentler smile. “You don’t have to change who you are. But… blending in might make things easier. At least while you’re figuring out what comes next.”

Vayra’nn looked back down at the clothes, quiet for a moment. Then, with a slow, resigned breath, she spoke: “Very well. If this is what is required, I shall endure it.”

Johnny raised a brow, a playful glint in his eye. “You make it sound like we’re throwing you in a prison jumpsuit.”

Vatra’nn’s head tilted at the new set of words. “Prison jumpsuit?” 

However before Johnny could reply she had already reached back behind her neck, unfastening the clasped hook around her garment's top. Peeling the tight fabric down, the peaks of her breasts were now exposed. Johnny's cheeks blushed bright red as he quickly turned away before she pulled it further down.

Sue yelped at the sight, turning around herself. “We’re still in the room!” 

“Oh,” Vayra’nn blinked. “Is disrobing also immodest?”

Johnny grinned widened, a chuckled escaping his flushed face.

“You’ve got a lot to learn.”

The two left the room in a hurry, leaving the Tameranean to dress. 

Five minutes turned to ten, ten into fifteen, soon it had been twenty five minutes, far too long a time for a quick change of clothes.

“Should we…check on her?” Johnny had been leaning casually against the hallway just outside her door, pretending not to be antsy waiting, yet failing miserably at his disguise.

Looking up from the tablet within her hands Sue shook her head.

“Give her time, she’ll be okay.”

After another five the door at last creaked open and vayra’nn stepped out.

Gone was the purple, skin tight leotard-esk garment, replaced with a long sleeved top in the color of stormy dusk and a pair of perfectly snug, high-waisted bell bottoms. The jeans flair at the bottom just barely brushed the tops of her clean white sneakers, which she had managed to lace up…eventually.

She shifted a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric around her wrists, then down to the pockets of the jeans.

“These fabrics are strange. But they’re not as restrictive as I feared.” 

Sue smiled.

“You look good, those fit you nicely.” 

Johnny on the other hand took a moment to really take in the scene before him.

If he was a dog he’d be howling, tail wagging, probably drooling. 

With a short, stunned whistle he dramatically slapped a hand over his chest.

“So this is why Earth invented jeans.”

Vayra’nn looked at him, puzzled, worry evident in her expression. “You are in pain?”

Sue groaned. “Ignore him.”

“No, no, this is serious,” Johnny said, trying not to grin. “You’re gonna break necks walking around New York like that.”

Vayra’nn furrowed brows deepened. “I do not wish to injure anyone.”

Sue sighed. “It’s just a phrase, Vayra’nn.”

Vayra’nn considered that and then gave a slow, confident nod. “Then I shall endeavor to walk responsibly.”

Johnny nearly choked on his own breath, face splitting into a laugh he couldn’t hold back.

“She’s killing me, Sue,” he said under his breath, amusement oozing.

“You’re doing that to yourself,” Sue replied dryly.

Approaching Vayra’nn he gave her a reassuring smile. “Ready to see the city?”

She reciprocated it with a nod.

“Lead the way.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The city roared around them.

Vayra’nn stood still at a street corner, her bright emerald eyes wide with wonder, a tad overwhelmed but ultimately mesmerized by the chaos. What Johnny had explained to be cars blared their horns, lights flickered from overhead posts, music thrumped from nearby stores, and above it all were dozens upon dozens of voices. Laughing, shouting, and speaking so many different languages she had not yet learned. She had not expected so much diversity because most planets only had one universal spoken tongue. But earth seemed different.

She did not flinch nor buckle from the overwhelming stimulus, instead she looked over to Johnny, eyes swimming with dozens of unspoken questions. 

“Its always like this,” Stepping closer to her, his shoulder brushed against hers. “You get used to it. Trust me.”

She turned her attention back to the scene before them, watching as a vendor flipped sizzling meat on a cart, the steam it rose carried unfamiliar spices. An animal, she wasn't sure the name of, ran beside the stall barking in hopes of receiving a piece of the meat. A child dropped some sort of frozen food onto the concrete and wailed to its guardians who promptly picked them up. A car with bright yellow paint zoomed by at far too fast of speeds.

But there despite it all, it was oddly beautiful to her.

“Theres so much life here.”

Johnny's smile beamed up to her.

“Yeah, Earth has a lot of that.” He paused looking around a bit before his eyes locked onto something down the street. “Wanna try a hot dog?”

“Dog? Is that not a domesticated animal?” Her tone was uncomfortable, thin red eyebrows furrowing in borderline disgust. Though she had never seen one nor had any idea what they looked like she knew a ‘dog’ to be a sort of ‘pet’ animal.

Despite her internal conflict this only served to widen Johnny’s grin.

“Its not actually a dog, c’mon I’ll buy you one.”

Chewing the mouthful of foreign substance before swallowing Vayra’nn is pleasantly surprised by the tastes developing on her tongue.

“Well, what do you think?” 

“It is most pleasant, though I do quite prefer this tangy yellow substance, is there more?” Before Johnny could say anything back, she had already taken an entire packet of it and slurped it down like a popsicle. 

Immediately the Human Torch felt queasy to his stomach at the sight.

“Uhhh Vy, that's mustard…”

“It is most delicious.” She drank another packet, though was sourly upset when Johnny took the last one away. “Also, you continue to refer to me as ‘Vy’ why?”

Shaking his head at the sight, Johnny laughed off his slight unease choosing to ignore that incident all together. “I just like it.”

“I was not aware my designation required abbreviation, is it hard to pronounce?”

“It isn’t, it's just a nickname.”

“Nickname?”

Johnny looked at her a little more gently, her naivety stirred feelings within him, not pity, no it was more akin to adorableness.

“They’re something we give people we like. Makes it feel… personal.”

Her lips pulled up into a radiant, beaming, grin.

“Then please feel free to refer to me as such! Shall I give you a nickname too?” 

“Sure you-”

The moment was broken by the shrill call of several people across the street.

“Is that Johnny Storm?”

“It is him! Quick take a picture!”

“That’s the Human Torch.”

A group of tourists had spotted them, well, spotted Johnny. 

The second the first shout of his name was uttered, it was like a switch had flipped within him. He smiled, a bright, practiced photogenic grin. Lifting a hand in a casual wave as others began to notice, it wasn’t long before more people joined in, trickling from all sides of the crosswalk. Already a few were holding up their phones, snapping pictures and pointing excitedly.

Vayra’nn tilted her head curiously. “Are these humans hostile?”

“No, no,” Johnny said quickly, glancing back at her as the crowd started to grow near. “Just fans. Like admires.” 

Vyra'nn remained seated on the bench, though her posture straightened, scanned the growing group of strangers. Their voices layered over one another like a rising tide.

Johnny’s grin didn’t falter, though he made it a point to move a bit in front of her as to block a few of the cameras.

He handled it like he always did, slipping seamlessly into ‘celebrity mode’. He posed for pictures, signed a few things, even gave a kid a fist bump. All the while, he was keenly aware of Vayra’nn sitting silently a few steps behind him.

She was watching the crowd intently, curious and cautious, just as she was when she first met him. A few passersby spared her glances, uncertain whether she was with him or just some cosplayer street performer.

Johnny tried to wrap things up quickly. He did not want to rush the fans, they were part of the job, but Vy had never been around this kind of attention before. He had not meant to bring her somewhere this populated, not yet.

He turned to go.

“Let's go.” He whispered to Vy. However the moment she got up and the two began walking side by side again the crowd reignited.

“Yo Johnny who’s that?”

“Is that your girlfriend?”

“Wait, is she an alien or something!?”

“She’s beautiful, but who is she!?”

With their backs still turned to the crowd their pace stalled, Varya’nn’s posture stiffened, obviously unsure how to approach the situation. She felt uncomfortable and suddenly Johnny did ever so slightly feel it too.

“Alright, that’s it for today, folks! We’ve gotta run, busy schedules you know how it is!”

He shot them a grin, charming as ever, then pivoted back to Vayra’nn, gently placing a hand at the small of her back. They walked quickly but without rushing, the clicking of cameras still chasing them down the sidewalk.

Someone managed to snap a clear photo of the two of them side by side just before they turned the corner.

Once they were out of sight, a few blocks away, Johnny at last slowed his pace, she followed his lead.

“Sorry, I should’ve known that would happen.”

Their hands brushed against one another as they continued to walk, though neither made any effort to widen the distance between them.

“They were quite excitable, though not unkind.”

“Still. I didn’t mean for them to see you yet,” he muttered. “I love the fans but it’s really none of their business.”

She looked at him quietly for a moment.

“You did not answer their questions.”

“Nope, not their moment to know about you. That's completely up to you, If and when you’re ready.”

A beat passes between them. Then she smiles, soft but sure, emerald eyes looking into his bright blue.

 “As long as you’re with me I do not mind who knows about me.”

He returned her grin, their hands again brushing against one another, though this time his fingers experimentally reached out for hers. Her own digits curled around his in response. 

They walked back to the Baxter building like this, hands interlocked in reassurance. That same feeling brewing deep within their chests as the first time they had flown together side by side.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Varya'nn was entering week three of her stay on Earth, after settling in Reed had requested to see her in his lab.

The walls hum faintly with machinery. The soft glow of multiple high-tech interfaces reflected in Vayra’nn’s eyes as she sits on top of a medical platform. With her feet bare, curly hair tied back,and a simple tank top and shorts combo provided by Sue she awaited Reed's instructions. 

Adjusting the settings on a console beside her, the scientist readied his equipment.

“Comfortable?” Reed's voice was gentle but focused. He had never been able to properly study an extraterrestrial life form before. Aside from the inorganic, mineral, samples taken from Galactus’ ship last year, this was his first organic, living, subject.

“I am. You may begin with whatever test you wish.”

The machines begin to whirl softly, light sweeping over her body, her vitals appearing as holograms above her in linear curves and data patterns.

“You’re remarkably cooperative,” Reed muttered, more so to himself than to her, yet it was not lost to her perceptive ears. 

“I have nothing to hide. Where I come from, knowledge is shared, never hidden.”

“A wonderful sentiment.” Reed readies another, smaller, device. “I’ll be taking a small blood sample.”

She does not say anything, simply nods her head as he places it down beside at the inner bend of her elbow, nor does she flinch when it punctures a vein in her arm to extract the sample. 

Unlike human blood, when drawn into the collection vial, Varya’nn’s was not red. Instead it concentrates into a light shade of pink and glows faintly in the vial under the lights within the lab.

“Fascinating. Your hemoglobin appears to be binding solar particles directly into its organelles. It's more akin to plasmatic matter, or even cytoplasm, than human proteins. That may explain your energy projection and flight, but I’ll need to run a full comprehensive metabolic panel."

Varya’nn nods once more, his words more than lost in translation but she assumed it to be a good thing though one statement she knew was wrong.

“Perhaps, but flight is not a common trait amongst Tameraneans.”

Before he can begin to question her further on the matter, the lab doors ‘swooshed’ open.

“Yo!” Johnny  entered the lab unannounced, a lab coat thrown on over his black t-shirt and jeans unbuttoned allowing the white draping to hang open. “Did I miss the alien dissection?”

Vayra’nn’s brows raise in suspicion, eyes immediately darting from Johnny to Reed. “There will be no dissection. Correct?”

Reed sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, there will be no dissection.” Turning towards his brother in law he looks exasperated. “She’s fine, Johnny. In fact her biochemistry is more stable than ours. She’s been on earth for a week and already has a better resting heart rate than you ever will.”

Johnny leans on the wall casually, arms folded. “Yeah, well, some of us have hearts that race when beautiful women sit on lab tables.”

“Unhelpful,” Turning his attention back to his equipment, Reed takes a pipette to the vial of Vayra’nn’s blood and dispenses two drops of it into the beakers before him, then finally one drop onto a microscope slide.  

“I don’t mind your flattery Johnny. It is quite endearing.” Vayra’nn looks pleased to see him, after all the two have been nearly inseparable for the last several days. Johnny had made it a point to take her not only around town on foot but via flight as well.

Reed changes the subject before the two could flirt any more blatantly. “So, you said not all Tamaraneans fly, is that right?”

“Correct, it is an inherited gene passed down through bloodlines. Some of my people were born with it, others without. I was one of the few fortunate.” 

“So your ability to absorb solar radiation,” gesturing to her vitals display which read various numbers far higher than a healthy human's numbers. “It’s not just for that purpose if all of your species possesses this ability is it?”

“As your kind needs water and food, I require solar radiation. My body metabolizes it as you’ve observed.” Varya’nn pauses, piecing together her next statement. “It is how I managed to survive in deep space without landing for so long. While eating is still necessary, as long as I’ve filled my stomachs before ascending, I can sufficiently fly for several earth months if I have proper radiation exposure."

“Hold on you said stomachs, as in plural?” Out of everything she had said, that one detail had garnered his immediate attention. 

“Yes, do you not?” The innocence in her eyes coupled with the small smile spreading across her face as she looked at him melted Johnny’s poor heart and silenced his interjections.

“No, humans only possess one. As the scans show you have five. I presume they all possess distinct functions?” Reed questioned, still gazing over the scan before him.

“Yes,the first begins enzymatic conversion of solar-infused nutrients, the second acts as storage. The third filters out toxic elements, the fourth holds reserve fluids, and the fifth,” she pauses, tilting her head slightly, “is... sentimental. It processes emotional states. We say it is where we ‘hold our joy.’”

Johnny leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait, you’ve got a stomach just for feelings?”

She nodded, almost proud. “Emotions are vital to Tamaranean strength. Rage, grief, love, ecstasy, they feed the soul, and the soul feeds the flame. When it is empty, we feel... diminished.”

Reed scribbled something furiously into a digital pad. “Psychosomatic biochemical responses localized to an organ system... fascinating. A physiological reaction to emotional stimuli that increases energy efficiency. That’s completely counter to how most known species function.”

“So what, like, being happy gives you a power boost?” Johnny asked. “Or is it more like... whatever you feel strongest?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Intensity matters more than quality. But positive feelings stabilize the absorption. Negative ones can... overflow.”

Reed made a mental note to study that further, but Johnny’s curiosity got the better of him first. He wandered over, cocking his head at her thoughtfully.

“So when you kissed me to learn English... that didn’t count as a feeling thing, right?”

She looked over at him, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly, her eyes conveying a bit of remorse. “Not in the way you mean. It was necessary for translation.”

“Right, right,” he muttered, clearly trying to look as if it did not bruise his ego. “Just... educational stuff. Got it.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Can I continue the scans before you flirt anymore, Johnny?”

“I’m not flirting. I’m investigating. For science.” Johnny protested, walking closer to the lab table she laid on, taking a gander at the scans himself to further prove that he was indeed ‘here for science.’

Vayra’nn looked at Johnny’s hand as he neared. It was only a few inches away from hers, without thinking of the implications, decision based purely on feelings, she reached out for it. 

The monitor on Reed’s screen immediately jumped, a bright pulse moving across the graph in sharp arcs.

“Whoa,” Johnny murmured, his eyes darting down to their interlocked hands. “Did I do that?”

“Yes,” she said softly, a wide smile growing across her lips. “The fifth stomach feels full.”

Johnny blinked his fingers tightening around hers. “Full of what?”

“Happiness.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the first full month of Varya'nn being on Earth came to a close and the second one quickly approaching its end as well, the relationship between her and Johnny became a strange one. Johnny never fully admitted his romantic feelings for her nor she to him. Truth be told the Human Torch wasn’t even sure what his feelings were. However, the way they interacted with one another spoke volumes. 

It was rare to catch them not holding hands, not talking to each other, not interacting in some way shape or form. It was something the other three immediately clocked within the two months of her being on Earth. The hand holding they initially brushed off as something she probably did in her culture, just as she had kissed him when they first met so unabashedly. A cultural difference between them given her biology tied to emotions.

But as more time passed, the touches lingered a little longer, the glances held a little more longing. 

She sought him out in every room while he gravitated towards her without thinking, instinctual it seemed. She smiled more when he was nearby, in turn he always seemed far happier near her. 

It was not loud or obvious. There were no grand declarations, no stolen kisses, no accidental walk-ins by any other member of the team like Ben had been so adamant would happen. 

Just the subtle weight of something growing.

By the end of the second month, no one was under any illusion. Whatever it was between them, it was more than a misunderstanding of customs.

Something was happening.

—-----

The two of them were gone yet again, out somewhere in the city. Sue had heard Johnny mention the botanical gardens this morning, claiming Vayra’nn needed ‘solar and photosynthetic enrichment.’ She had nearly laughed when he said it, but something in the way he said it had been so sincere. Not teasing. Just… soft. It was a pattern Sue had come to pick up on rather quickly about the two, Johnny had never spoken to another woman the way he spoke to and about Varya’nn.

In the shared living space, three of the four lounged. Reed was combing over a few sets of charts he had drawn up earlier in the week while Sue leaned back against the counter in the adjacent kitchen, sipping slowly on a mug of coffee. Across the room, Ben sat in a recliner flipping through channels on the large box-screen tv set, clearly bored out of his mind.

“They’re out again, huh?” Ben asked between channel surfs.

“Third day in a row. Same time, too. Like clockwork.” Sue responded, taking in another sip of coffee.

Reed didn’t look up from his work, but chimed into the conversation nonetheless. “Johnny said something about the gardens earlier. He was convinced she needed more exposure to direct sunlight. Something about her ‘energy levels.’”

Ben snorted. “Means he just wanted an excuse to see her in that outfit again.”

Sue smiled into her mug, saying nothing.

Reed finally stopped analyzing, gaze stilled into the open space before him. “Do you think the hand holding is cultural? At first I assumed it was, but now I’m less convinced. The consistency of the behavior is-”

“It’s not cultural,” Sue said before he could finish. “Not anymore.”

Ben turned in his seat and grunted in agreement. “Kid’s got it bad. He’s not makin’ a big show of it like usual, but c’mon. The guy practically glows when she looks at him.”

“She’s the same. Have you seen the way she watches him when he talks? Like he’s the only thing that matters. It’s not loud or dramatic, it’s just… there. Constant.”

Reed straightened up, the thoughtful crease in his brow deepening. “They do engage in frequent, casual contact. The kind that’s difficult to quantify but statistically rare in platonic pairings.”

Ben gave him a look. “No offense, Stretch, but, yeah. We know.”

“I’m merely stating the observable data.”

Sue chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s not about data, Reed. It’s about how they act when the other’s around. He doesn’t flirt with anyone else anymore. She never strays too far from his side. There’s something real there, even if they haven’t said it out loud yet.”

She turned to glance out the tall curtained windows, where late afternoon sunlight spilled in across the floor. Her voice softened.

“Honestly, I think it’s kind of sweet. Like they’re just figuring it out together, one day at a time.”

Ben gave a quiet grunt of agreement. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t mess it up. I kinda like her.”

“I do as well,” Reed said without hesitation. “She’s cooperative. Intelligent. Curious. Her cellular makeup is utterly fascinating-”

“Reed.”

“Right. Yes. I like her. As a person.”

A short silence fell between them. Not awkward, just contemplative. 

—--

The botanical gardens sat tucked away within the outskirts of the city, far from the usual hustle and bustle of time square it found its own quiet spot of peace. It felt untouched, almost wild, truly living up to its whole purpose. And in the middle of it, Vayra’nn moved like she belonged there.

She had never seen such open flora, on Tameran the planet was mostly rocky save for the deep forests far beyond its cities and now on Earth she lived within an urban jungle. It was a nice change of scenery.

The sundress she wore had been Sue’s suggestion, though Johnny had given an enthusiastic thumbs-up and adamant nod the moment it was pulled from the rack. He had insisted that he buy it for her along with any other dress she happened to glance at. Though this one was by far his favorite. It was soft yellow, cinched slightly at the waist, flowing just enough to move with the breeze and ended at her mid thigh. It complemented her orange skin and contrasted with the vibrant red of her hair, which she had tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few curls still escaping around her face.

Johnny was trying his best to focus on the orchids, or the exotic flowering vines clinging to the trellises along the paths. Or maybe even the placards with facts he’d half-read aloud to make her laugh. But none of it stuck. His gaze kept drifting back to her. The way her bright emerald eyes lit up with curiosity. The delicate way her fingers hovered just above a petal.

She turned as they reached a tall living wall of flowers, an explosion of color and bloom that climbed high up toward the sky.

She stepped in front of it, tilting her head as if listening to the quiet hum of the bees nearby, the corner of her mouth lifted in a thoughtful smile.

Johnny stared once more. Though this time he could not tear his eyes away.

She looked like something out of a dream. Light, fire and calm, framed by blossoms.

"Hey, can I take a picture?" Already pulling his phone out of his pants pocket she turned to glance at him over her shoulder, thin brows lifting in mild surprise.

"Of me?"

"Yeah," Johnny hesitated for a moment, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I mean, if that’s okay. You just… you look amazing. You should see yourself.”

Her expression softened as she considered it. "Only if we take one together afterward."

Johnny blinked, then gave a lopsided smile, one of the ones that made his dimples show and his ears turn faintly pink.

"Deal."

She turned to face Johnny, the wall of flowers behind her as he raised his phone and smiled. Not a forced smile like most did for photos, but a true, happy grin. The camera clicked once, twice. 

By the time he had lowered his phone she was already walking forward, reaching for his hand.

"Now, our photo."

Taking her hand into his he Johnny raised the camera once more, being sure to capture not only their faces but their interlaced embrace, flowers lighting up the background. 

A thought crossed his mind, impulsive and wild.

‘Kiss her.’

He stiffened against her, but kept his composure, opting not to enact his thoughts. Not yet.

—

Later that evening, the Baxter Building was quiet, at least by Fantastic Four standards. The moon sat high in the sky, its light filtering through the curtained windows within the common room.

Johnny lay sprawled out across one of the couches, phone held above his head.

He should have been going over reports from a recent mission. Or at least pretending to help Reed calibrate that weird dimensional probe thing he had been working on again. But instead, his thumb hovered over his camera roll, caught between guilt and a dopey, almost embarrassed smile.

He swiped.

Photo after photo from the gardens filled the screen. The one of her standing against the wall of blooms, sunlight threading through her hair like molten fire was his favorite by far. Not just because of how beautiful she looked, though gods, she was, it was the look on her face. Soft, open, happy. 

Like Earth didn’t feel quite so alien anymore.

That one, naturally, had been promoted to lock screen status within the hour.

But there were others, too.

Ones she had not known were taken.

One where she knelt beside a row of unfamiliar plants, her thin red brow furrowed in thoughtful curiosity.

Another, slightly blurry, where she’d leaned into him, laughing at something he’d said. The photo was taken half-accidentally as his thumb fumbled over the capture button. Her wide smile forever captured from that moment.

And his favorite, aside from the first, was a shot from behind, quietly snapped when she hadn’t been looking. They were walking along one of the gravel paths, dappled light falling through the overhead trees. Her hand was in his, their fingers naturally, comfortably intertwined. The skirt of her dress floated just around her mid thighs. She was leading him forward, and somehow, it felt symbolic. Like he’d follow her anywhere.

He stared at that one for a while longer.

Feelings swirled in his mind and settled heavily in his chest. He knew what this was, deep inside he had always known. Yet unlike every other time he had felt something even remotely close to this he could not bring himself to tell her like any woman before. Because Vayra'nn was not just any other woman, she was her.

But God he wanted to... Just...couldn't.

In the two months since Vayra’nn had entered the Earth's atmosphere, Johnny, the Human Torch, the protector of its people, had found himself helplessly, and irrevocably infatuated with the tall orange woman who now lived within the Baxter buildings guest suite.

—---

The kitchen was quiet, bathed in the fading blue into the yellow light of dawn, the world outside was still waking up. But inside the kitchen, Ben Grimm was already at the blender, a massive rocky hand steadying the lid while the other tapped the power button. The whirring roar of pulverized protein powder and frozen bananas filled the space.

Until a loud ding from the counter cut through the noise.

Johnny, shirtless and yawning, wandered in mid-stretch, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand, the other reaching lazily for his phone.

Ben glanced down just as Johnny lifted the device. The screen was still lit, his lock screen proudly displaying a photo of Vayra’nn.

Ben’s unibrow lifted high. “Oh yeah,” he grunted, scooping whey powder into a second cup, “you two are definitely just friends.”

Johnny blinked, pulling the phone closer to his chest like a teenager caught watching inappropriate videos. “It’s a good picture,” he muttered defensively. “And we are friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben said, clearly not buying a word. “Friends who hold hands like it’s a lifeline. Friends who spend every spare second starin’ at each other like a pair’a lovesick puppies. Yeah, sure.”

Johnny turned away toward the fridge, grabbing oat milk and mumbling, “We’re… figuring it out.”

Ben leaned an elbow on the counter, watching him. “She know you’re this gone for her?”

Johnny paused at that, the carton in his hand. “I don’t know. I haven’t said anything.”

“Judgin’ by the way she looks at you?” Ben shook his head, a small smile tugging at the edge of his rocky mouth. “She’s gotta be in the same boat. I’ve seen that look before.”

Johnny did not bother to pour the milk into a glass, instead he took a swig straight from the carton. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ben's voice was final, certain.

Johnny laughed under his breath. 

The older man simply shrugged before grabbing his shake and heading for the door. “Better figure it out before she gets snatched up by some other cosmic Casanova.”

Johnny glanced at his phone again, thumb brushing over the screen where her smile lit up the flowers behind her. “I’m working on it.”

Ben’s voice called from the hall, gravelly and fond, “Don’t take too long, Romeo.”

–

The sky above the Baxter Building had just begun to dim. Streaks of orange and rose painted the glass as evening settled in. 

Vayra’nn laid on one of the rooftops numerous lounge chairs, Reed had them installed for ‘maximum solar absorption’ three weeks ago.

She had been out here for several hours, back to the main door leading inside, arms folded loosely over her chest. 

Her gaze was distant, fixed somewhere beyond the skyline, the light breeze tugged at the fabric of her leisure wear a tank top and shorts, thoughts swimming within her mind like wildfire. 

Behind her, the rooftop door slowly creaked open.

Johnny hesitated in its threshold, one hand on the frame, his own mind a mess of thoughts as well. 

His gaze immediately locked onto her laying silhouetted form waning against the light.

He had been avoiding this. 

Not her, not really, just… coming to terms with the reality of how he really felt and what he actually wanted. 

The way his chest got tight when she laughed. The way her eyes lingered on him just a little too long. The way every word he wanted to say suddenly sounded stupid the second it reached his tongue.

Johnny Storm was a ladies man, he had held feelings for plenty of other girls before. He knew what this was, at least what it mostly was… He second guessed it purely because none of them had ever made him feel quite this strongly. 

Circumventing her had been an accidental byproduct of it all. 

Her head had turned to the side, catching him halfway through yet another cowardly retreat.

“Johnny,” Her voice was soft but certain.

He froze, one foot in the doorway the other outside. “Hey.”

She studied him for a moment, her emerald eyes unreadable, before standing up from her lounger. “Did I… do something to upset you?”

His brows lifted. “What? No, no, not at all.”

“Then why do you act as if you’re uncomfortable around me? You barely look me in the eye anymore. You leave the room quickly when I enter. You used to talk. Laugh. Now you… don’t.” Each statement was one step closer to him.

Johnny looked away, lips pressing into a thin line. He made his decision within that split second. With one foot in front of the other he stepped out onto the rooftop, closing the door behind him and the gap between them. 

His voice was quieter when he finally spoke again now fully in front of her. “It’s not you. It’s me being an idiot.”

She tilted her head.

“Vy…I’ve talked to a lot of women in my life. Flirted with them, taken them out, made them feel like they were the center of the universe. It was easy.”

“And I’m not?” she asked, but not with judgment, with genuine curiosity.

He smiled, almost ruefully. “You’re too easy to talk to, Vy. You’re kind. Honest. Strong. You could fold me in half with one hand and still somehow make me feel safe.”

She blinked, lips parting faintly at that.

“I’m not avoiding you because I’m uncomfortable,” His voice was steadier now, though still held an uneasy edge. “I’m avoiding you because every time I’m near you, I forget how to act. I say the wrong thing, or worse… I say nothing. And that’s new for me. That’s scary.”

A pause.

Then, quietly, “You scare me, Vy.”

She flinched slightly at that statement, her own unease rising to the surface. “Because of how I look?”

“No,” he said immediately, stepping closer, their chests nearly touching. “Because of how I feel when I look at you.”

She stared at him, silent, confused yet desperate to understand. 

“Do you remember when you first agreed to stay on Earth? When we flew back here?”

She nods, recalling the memory vividly.

“I meant what I said, I still feel that way. You're not like anyone I’ve ever met. And I think somewhere between the moment you kissed me to learn my language and the moment I caught myself watching you smile at a patch of sunflowers…I fell for you.”.

He exhaled, eyes locking onto hers before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I just… didn’t know how to say all that.”

Vayra’nn was quiet for a long moment.

Then, she stepped forward, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

“I thought our feelings for each other had already been expressed.”

“I-what?”

“My people do not hide our emotions, we freely express them.” She reaches down, both of her hands grasping onto his. He did not withdraw, instead he held on, as he did every time before. “Holding your hand, spending time with you, that has been my way of expressing how I feel about you Johnny. I am unfamiliar with human courting, my apologies if I improperly initiated it.”

His heart skipped a beat, his mind struggling to process everything she had just said. The one word he could think of was; 

“Seriously?”

She nodded once.

He grinned, the weight falling off him all at once. “So, uh…this whole time you’ve been trying to ask me out?”

“If that is the proper term for trying to be your partner then yes.”

—-

The two stay out atop the Baxter building, retreating to the lounge chairs for the remainder of the late afternoon into the early evening. 

With bare legs draped between his, one arm lazily slung across his torso, the other folded beneath her chin Vy and Johnny cuddled within the same chair. Her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. His warmth, though vastly different from the sun’s, comforted her just the same. 

One of his arms cradled her close, while the other trailed over the soft curve of her tank top covered waist. Occasionally it would move up to twirl a piece of curly red hair within their digits.

“I could stay like this forever.”

“Yeah... I’d be okay with that.”

Neither of them spoke for a long while afterwards. There’s no need to. Simply enjoying the feeling of holding the other, contentment finally flowing through them.

So stay they did, until the sun dipped far below the horizon of the city's skyscrapers. 

Shifting slightly beneath her Johnny drew in a deep breath. At his stirring Vayra’nn began to rise, propping herself halfway up on her elbows. Her long hair spilled over one shoulder catching fragments of moonlight between the strands as her face hovered just above his.

They were close, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath and see the faint outline of invisible green pupils within her emerald eyes reflecting back his own blue hues.

His hands instinctually lifted to cradle her face between his palms, thumbs brushing gently along her high cheekbones.

“Hey.”

Smiling softly, she did not answer with words, instead the two simply looked into each other's eyes in the stillness of the growing night wrapped in desire neither of them rushed to fulfill. 

That was until he leaned up just slightly.

She met him the rest of the way.

Their lips meet slowly,  hovering just over the other as if waiting for the one to retract.

When neither do, they both press firmer before Johnny takes the lead and moves his lips against hers. Not in a heated hunger nor rush, but a lingering craving they had both wanted for so long. 

She adapts to his rhythm, mirroring every motion with her own. 

One kiss turns into two, two to three, then before long they had both stopped counting, simply enjoying the moment. Linger in it, in the shared breath and quiet sighs pulled from the other.

When they at last part Johnny doesn’t move far, catching his breath as it mingled with hers. His hands still cup her cheeks, forehead nearly brushing against hers.

“…Do you want to stay with me tonight?” His words are barely above a whisper. They hold no pressure, no expectations, a simple question she could fully reject.

Vayra’nn blinks slowly, tilting her head just slightly into the comfort of his hands.

“Of course. I always want to be near you.”

She presses a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, and when she pulls back, her expression holds a rare kind of ease. She isn’t confused or overthinking it. She knows what she wants.

Johnny nods, his own heart beating fast but steady. 

Threading his fingers between hers the two slowly stand and make their way back down into the building. Hand in hand as always.

—-

The walk down the stairs into the residential area of the Baxter building was not awkward, but tenderly quiet.

Vayra’nn’s hand remains in his the entire way, her thumb occasionally brushing softly over his knuckles. 

When they finally step into the hallway of bedrooms, the world feels still. Empty. All that matters is the warmth between their palms and the hum in their hearts.

They reach Johnny’s door.

He opens it, but doesn’t walk in.

He turns to face her, letting his gaze linger on her form. Her hair falls like fire over her shoulders, wild from the wind. She’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, she’s his entire universe.

He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles.

“I’ve waited… a long time to feel like this.”

Vayra’nn tilts her head slightly, eyes searching his.

“For me, there was never a question. I knew. The moment I saw you… I knew.”

That breaks something open in him. Emotions swell,it’s too much to say, so instead he kisses her.

A firm press of his lips against hers.

Then again, longer.

They step back into his room together, still tangled in the kiss. Her hands lift to his cheeks, his to her waist as they move with a slow, aching urgency. Not even when the backs of her legs hit the edge of his bed do they break apart, following each other as they both collapse onto it.  

Touches were whispered across fabric as it pulled off. Kisses fall from jawlines and temples down to every place that’s been missed until now. 

Head between her bare breasts Johnny looks up to her as her fingers thread into his blonde locks.

“I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

She smiles down to him.

“You are the first I’ve ever wanted to love.”

Johnny stills for a moment, stunned by the gravity of her words.

“Then love me and let me love you.”

She does.

They move slowly, carefully, falling together into the quiet dark.

 Not rushing. 

There was no need to. 

One hand guided a breast into his mouth while the other trailed digits up the length of her bare spine, causing her own to dig into his hair the sounds of both of their pleasures echoing within his room.

Hips ground into each other before at last, the space between them became nonexistent as bodies connected.

The night was theirs laden with their desires, their pleasure, and their growing love.

—--

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror, softening their reflections in the glass. 

Vayra’nn stands in front of the sink, drying off the damp ends of her hair, her body wrapped in one of Johnny’s soft towels while he finishes brushing his teeth beside her.

Shifting the towel higher on her chest, that's when she notices them in the mirror. Several deep red markings decorated her body. A few were stamped onto her neck while more appeared further down towards her breasts.

Tilting her head, she examined them with quiet curiosity.

Johnny caught her gaze and nearly chokes on his minty toothpaste.

“Ah, crap- I didn’t think I left that many. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to do that. I just uh…”

He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with a boyish grin and flushed cheeks, toothpaste still dribbling onto his chin.

Vayra’nn turns to him, towel still tucked securely around her body, and steps closer. Her expression was amused despite Johnnys tenseness.

“There is no need to apologize.”

Lightly brushing her fingertips across the most visible mark near the junction of her neck and collarbone, a had already spread wide across her face.

“My people do not feel shame for signs of mating. They are a celebration. A sign one is deeply desired. Loved.”

Johnny could not help but laugh in both equal parts amusement and giddiness at her words.

“Mating huh?”

“Intercourse.” She corrects herself, though it only makes him laugh harder, the sound bouncing around the bathrooms sleek tile walls.

With a final chuckle and a shake of his head Johnny turns towards the door and disappears into the bedroom for a second before returning, a black t-shirt and sweatpants in hand. The shirt was one of his favorites. It's soft, worn-in, with a tiny little 4 logo on the chest.

“Here.” 

Vayra’nn accepts them with a nod, uncaring to his gaze as she unabashedly drops the towel to tug the clothing over her frame.

The shirt is a near perfect fit; however, the sweatpants are a bit short in the length of the legs, ending high above her ankles, even so, she did not seem to mind. 

Adjusting her hair into place, still semi wet, the marks were mostly hidden. Though if someone were to look closely enough, they could still make out a few of them.

“Have I ever told you I have a thing for women in my clothes?”

“Perhaps we could explore this fantasy sometime.”

That earns her a gentle slap on the ass as a shared laugh echoes between them.

Once finished they head out together, messy-haired, marked up, and wrapped in something warmer than just cotton and cloth.

—-----

The sound of two pairs of feet descending the stairs into the common area alerted the three that their missing fourth and guest had at last woken up. 

Seated at the main table, eyes flickering between half a dozen digital charts floating in the air, Reed was unbothered by the new commotion.

However, Sue, who was curled up in the corner of the love seat, a tablet balanced atop her thighs with Franklin playing on the floor beside her with HERBIE, was immediately aware. As well as Ben who had been propped up in a recliner, a mug in one hand and the mornings newspaper in the other.

The two looked to the stairwell as Varya’nn and Johnny at last reached the bottom. 

Ben raises one side of his brow ridge in suspicion but does not say a word, however the look on his face is unmistakable.

Johnny smirks faintly, running a hand through his messy hair though avoids their gazes.

“Morning.” Was all he had to offer the group before entering the kitchen.

“Morning, huh?” Ben's tone was inquisitive yet all knowing.

“Relax, we just overslept.” This caused a grin to crack across the things rocky face.

“Sure ya did.”

At last Reed looked up from his diagrams, just for a moment. 

“I hope you remembered to hydrate. Tamaraneans require more electrolytes post-physical exertion due to their unique cellular-”

“Reed.” Sue’s voice cut him off before another word could escape.

Vy just blinks, head slightly tilted, confused by their abrupt silencing.

“He is right,” taking the glass Johnny handed her she took a sip before continuing. “There was significant exertion last night, therefore I do require hydration. Thank you for the consideration."

Johnny chokes on his mouthful of cereal.

Ben just about drops his coffee.

While Sue closes her eyes and exhales hard through her nose.

“Oh my God, someone put on a pot of coffee and please do not elaborate.”

Johnny mutters a quick “I’ll get it”, his ears burning with a raging blush.

Ben watched the two walk around the kitchen, grinning like a man who knows exactly what happened.

Leaning over to Sue, his tone low he muttered a quick and quiet, “I called it.”

—----

[lizardho]

Do you have any tips for surviving a mission as a queer person?

Tip #1 - Don’t go. Genuinely, I know this can be hard for people to hear, but don’t do it. You can’t fix it from the inside, the mission experience is not one that is swayed by pleas for compassion, by heartfelt humanity, by openness and congruence. People will tell you it is, they’ll say you can change the world, that You Being You is all the Lord wants, but they’re wrong. You cannot change in 2 years what Mormonism has spent 100+ years rending and shattering. You cannot ever be You in a way that matters. At best you will be a token to be spent, and at worst you will be spiritually eviscerated and left to bleed out alone once they’re done with you. If this breaks you, they will NOT put you back together again, they won’t even attempt to try or help, they’ll just leave you dying on the roadside like the priests in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. If not going means your mom is sad, or your dad feels like a failure, or your bishop won’t leave you tf alone, STILL do not go. Your mom can be sad for a bit, it’s better than having your soul broken and your heart pulled out and burned on the altar of Buried Gays. Here be monsters, do not set sail.

Tip #2 - if you DO go, like if your tuition hinges on it, don’t give them your passport. If they pressure you, tell them you’re holding onto it even if it doesn’t make sense. Don’t fold on this. They can use a passport to keep you in the field longer.

Tip #3 - Learn to “lie.” I put lie in quotes because it’s often not lying - the questions you are asked are often lies. If someone asks “how many people will you visit this week?” give them the correct answer because what they’re asking in actuality is not “how many people” but “how faithful are you” and the premise is erroneous. If people ask you if you’re queer, say “no,” because knowing you’re queer won’t change their perception of queerness it will endanger your safety and mental health.

Tip #4 - Be bad at it. A good missionary ignores boundaries or discomfort, they push people too hard and too fast, they manipulate others, they take advantage of pain points. It’s better to be a bad missionary. If someone says “I’m not interested” you’re supposed to say “well can I ask why?” but if you say “that’s totally fine! Here’s a card with an inspirational quote and a link to our website!” they usually feel better about it in the long run and you don’t have to pretend you forgot what consent is for two years. ALSO, being a good missionary means supporting other missionaries and sometimes that is NOT ok. I remember supporting a missionary or two struggling with depression and that was a great use of time, but I also remember getting treated like a Narc for a transfer cycle because I called out a pedo Elder for proposing to a 13 year old. Like. Just because he’s an elder or she’s a sister does NOT mean they are Your People.

Tip #5 - Make a game of it. If you take it seriously it will break you - everything bad is your fault, everything good is God having mercy on you. That just marinades you in guilt and inadequacy for two years. Instead, make it fun through any means necessary. I kept a tally of which ward members had inactivated the most people. I read scripture for fun and not just for work (like reading the OT for the stories and not for whatever else). I downloaded rain sounds to listen to at night so I could sleep. I played solo D&D campaigns. I took longer routes to lessons if it meant walking somewhere pretty or relaxing. Do what makes it bearable for you and do it with the knowledge that you’re not sinning for having fun.

Tip #6 - Actually learn scripture - it makes it easier to get people off your back if you do, it can actually be kinda fun and helpful, and it helps you be more genuine without having to use gimmicks like “The Spirit Voice” (the voice missionaries whip out to say something Serious and Real). Scripture isn’t inherently bad.

Tip #7 - Only stay as long as it’s good - everything has good and bad days, but if the bad days start piling up and making everything feel heavy, if you start thinking of suicide, if you start having panic attacks or worsening mental health, if you’re sick or you’re being taken advantage of or hurt or bullied or whatever just leave. They’ll tell you it’s your fault for being weak or faithless and that is such a crock of shit. That’s actual DARVO in action. Don’t buy it.

Tip #8 - Don’t skip the “hard” or “ugly” parts of lessons - teach the law of tithes to the impoverished, teach the law of chastity to gay people, AS IT IS IN THE CHURCH, because they deserve to know what they’re committing to, and too often they find out too late that what they thought they were committing to was Eternal Joy and what they actually committed to was Mom Working Now So We Can Afford Tithing or Everyone Treating Me Like I’m Diseased Because I’m Gay. Let people you teach see the real church, not the sanitized performance they put on.

Tip #9 - If you’re following the mission rules to a T and really not reading for pleasure, then DO NOT read anything but scripture. The teachings of David O McKay will not help your gay investigator make sense of why the church hates and reviles and rebukes his love, but it will open you up to a certain type of missionary who is unbearable to interact with.

Tip # 10 - Really do NOT go if there is ANY other way. If you can do a service mission, do it. If you can get a scholarship somewhere, take that and don’t go. If you can get an apprenticeship in a trade, do that instead. The church sells a lot of hype about RMs and the biggest thing I learned is that if my sister ever wanted to date an RM I would be scared for her safety. Even when I was a TBM, before my faith crisis but after I returned home, anytime I’d hear people say “make sure to date RMs only” I’d panic about it because even the “good” RMs I knew from my mission days had done some fucked up shit. Do not go.

[writings-from-the-void]

𖤓°⋆. Dream of Ash and Fire

⋆☀︎. Prologue - Ashes in the Dreaming

Morpheus x Phoenix!reader summary: Weakened and hunted by mortals, the phoenix fled to the Dreaming with the last of its power, seeking refuge to complete the cycle of rebirth. wc: 1k warnings/tags: pre main plot of the sandman, character death (temporary), violence, physical injury, self-immolation (phoenix burning to ash?) AN: The phoenix won't be as lore accurate as some myths out there, I'm just doing some creative interpretation of it having the power to shapeshift between bird form and human form. But in the prologue, they are completely in bird form right now :D English is not my first language, so please be nice :)

series masterlist | next chapter

Millennia ago, beneath a sky heavy with stars and shadows, the phoenix flew like a sunset. Your wings were heavier than you remembered. Their golden edges, once trailing fire across the skies, now flickered dimly in the dying light. You can feel your wings ache with every beat. Once radiant, now coated with ash and age. The sky is no longer a sanctuary—it is a battlefield. The mortals below have found you again.

They call you a message, a miracle, a key to eternal life. They do not understand what you truly are. You are not meant to be hoarded, dissected, or worshipped. You were meant to be beyond reach. Untouchable. A legend.

But legends age, too. And you are so very tired.

Your body, worn by centuries, is faltering. The cycle should have already begun, the moment where you are supposed to reach the sanctum hidden behind mortal eyes and fall into the sacred flame, to be cradled in your own ash and born anew. But you stayed too long. You helped too many. You loved them too much.

The world had changed. constantly changing. And now, they chase you for more. They have driven you far from your haven. There will be no pyre. No gentle collapse into light. Only running. Only fear.

Your feathers smolder as you fly low across the trees, smoke trailing from your wounds. Each beat of your wings strains your spirit. An arrow pierces your side. You scream—not from pain, but from grief. You will not make it to your nest. You will not die on your own terms.

Their voices grow louder. Feet trample leaves. The scent of steel and desperation fills the air.

So, with the last spark of magic left in your soul, you reach. You reach not for the skies, but beyond.

And the veil answers.

You burn through the seams of reality.

And fall.

Fall.

Fall…

You crash—hard—through silver skies, until the realm itself catches you with uncertainty. Your knees buckle, your wings crumple inward. Smoke curls up from your shoulders where magic used to flare. You try to rise, but your body won’t obey. You are spent. Ash and flame and not much else.

And then… he is there.

You don’t hear his footsteps, but the shadows draw inward. The Dreaming quiets. A tall figure emerges, eyes that reflect every star. He does not speak at first. He only looks.

You know who he is. Lord of Dreams. Prince of Stories. Morpheus.

You try to rise, but your legs tremble and give out from beneath you, the last bit of heat in your chest flickering low. You can barely lift your head. Your voice comes out cracked and ash-choked, “I… I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The words fall like embers from your lips. You press your palm to the ground beneath you, trying to bow, trying to show respect. You can’t afford offense—not here, not to a being of this power. "I was… I was being hunted. I didn’t know where else to go. I just needed somewhere to… burn.”

He says nothing at first. You wonder if you’ve made a mistake. That he will cast you out. But then he kneels in front of you, and his voice is low, distant as moonlight.

“You are not of this realm,” he says, voice low and measured. “You do not belong in the Dreaming.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But I have nowhere else. Let me stay. Just long enough… to die.”

That isn’t quite true. You do not die. You shed. You become ash and light and something new again.

But you can feel the end nearing, and the cycle must be completed somewhere safe. Somewhere away from grasping hands.

“And if I let you remain?” he asks. “What will you become next?”

You blink, barely holding form. “Something… gentler, I hope.”

There is silence.

Then, with a wave of his hand, the Dreaming shifts. A space made—hidden, warm, lit with soft firelight. A sanctuary, just enough for a phoenix to fall to ash unseen.

“You may stay,” he says. “Until the fire claims you.”

You nod. Tears rise, unbidden. "Thank you…"

And as you crawl into it, you feel his presence linger behind you.

In the quiet corner of the Dreaming he gave you, you curl up to yourself. The world around you blurs, time slipping like sand. There is no pain, only weight—the kind that comes before release.

You breathe once. Then again.

And then you burn.

The edges of your form ignite, fire consumes you, but it is your fire, and you welcome it. Every feather, every bone, every sorrow you have carried turns to light. The flames rise higher, then collapse into themselves.

And when the blaze dies down, there is nothing but ash.

From beneath your own remains, you rise again. The ash clings to your skin like memory. Your wings haven’t yet spread, but they tremble behind your shoulders, waiting. You are new. Yet you remember.

You turn, wings brushing the ash behind you. Morpheus stands nearby—silent, still. It’s as if he’s been watching the whole time.

You bow your head, a shimmer running through your plumage.

“Lord of the Dreaming,” your voice rings soft but clear, “you gave me sanctuary in my most fragile moment. For that, I owe more than words.”

And from your wing, you pluck a single feather. It glows softly in your beak—part of your old self, part of your soul. You hold it out to him with both pride and humility.

“A gift,” you say, “from what I was. Call me, should the need ever arise. In dream or waking. I will come.”

He takes the feather in his pale hand. The moment he touches it, it pulses—alive with warmth, ancient magic, and the bond of promise. He says nothing, but he does not refuse.

With the last of your ash gathered in your talons, you prepare to leave. The Dreaming opens for you, recognizing that your time here—at least for now—is done.

You ascend slowly, carrying the remains of who you were, and take to the sky. Fire trails behind you, but not the wildfire of desperation. This is the purpose. This is my return.

You fly towards Heliopolis, where your ashes belong. Where the sun will reclaim what the Dreaming sheltered.

You do not look back.

But you feel his eyes following you into the stars.

And one day, the feather will bring you back to him.

[jotctumb]

The Murderbot Diary Fic Recs

I have some Murderbot fic recs. This isn't a best-of list, rather it's meant to showcase just a tiny fraction of how wide a range of amazing fic is out there. (AARH Edit how did I misspell Murderbot in the title?)

Gen Fic: That The Light Is Everything Ratthi goes missing. Deals with themes of grief and loss. The author asks the reader to trust them, and that trust is really paid off in this rich and moving fic.

Priority Client SecUnit has to look after one of Mensah's adolescent kids during a crisis. It gets off to a hilarious start with SecUnit nervously being made to hold a baby while it downloads child-rearing mauals. The fic as a whole is fun, exciting, and sweet.

Plastic Plague People on Preservation face an extended life-changing environmental crisis. This one's thought provoking and a bit 'heavy.' Heartwarming, but not an easy feel-good fic. One of those fics where you can spend a lot of time thinking about the themes.

More Gen Fic, Emphasis on Original Characters:

Background Radiation In this Corporation Rim is Hell story, Nico flees home with his autistic brother Luca to keep Luca safe. Sadly Nico faces his own new challenges as he brings the messed up philosophy of the Rim with him to his new home.

Survivor Murderbot and Co. try to assist an OC SecUnit who has been through major trauma. But is this SecUnit a danger to others? How much will they risk for the victim versus those who were complicit in its mistreatment? This OC really made a powerful impression on me.

Life Partnership, Romance, or Ambiguous (Gen Edition) (Categorizing fic when one or more characters is asexual can get kind of confusing. Lines get fuzzy.

Parallel Signaling (ART/SecUnit) ART POV for Artificial Condition through Exit Strategy, but that really doesn't capture the originality of this story. It is very much NOT just a canon retelling. I felt I knew ART better after reading this.

It will Fail on You (ART/SecUnit) Long life sounds like a happy thing, but what if you were offered a chance to live ~200 years, and you never expected to live long enough to grieve your humans? https://archiveofourown.org/works/67137652/chapters/173365222

Made for each Other (Gurathin/Murderbot) An interesting take on Gurathin's augments and how they affect how he relates to Murderbot.

Is it Slash if there is No Sex? Kink and Desire

That Time I Got Drunk And Yeeted A Love Potion At A SecUnit (Gurathin/Murderbot, kissing, bondage) In this hilarious story, SecUnit gets accidentally drugged and feels an overwhelming impulse to tie Gurathin up and revel in the fact that he is now Safe. From what? Who knows! He's just Safe. He has been Secured.

Boots (Gurathin/Murderbot) Maintenance and Repair as kink and love. The sequel Guns is explicit. The first fic Boots is more about taking care of things and people (for AO3 it's rated "other.")

Explicit (But It Might Not Look Like What You Expect):

You (Gurathin/Murderbot, WIP) There are some cases where sex or touch-averse people feel differently about being the one doing the touching versus the one being touched. As of chapter 12, this slow burn story currently shows Murderbot working through past trauma and realizing it is capable of experiencing touch in a positive way. I want to quote Gurathin's check-in protocol because it's a delight, but this post is crazy-long already.

Shared Senses (Gurathin/Murderbot) Riding the feed allows Murderbot to experience sex. https://archiveofourown.org/series/4914649

Enemies, Closer WIP, multiple pairings involving Murderbot, Gurathin, ART, and an OC CombatUnit This story is it's so much sweeter than you might guess from the tags. Which is not to downplay the tags but like, all the people the reader cares about are trying and mostly succeeding at being good people. The dark stuff is done by the bad guys and isn't excessively drawn out or graphic.

[Redacted] I really wanted to link a fic which does something that I haven't seen before--it shows a couple go through a temporary period of sexual activity which ends after one party comes to a realization about what they want. Pretty cool to see that in a fic! But I'm told that author has been a target of harassment in the past so I felt hesitant to link it. Also my description just spoiled it. Go read enough fic and you can have the pleasure of stumbling across it blind!

Rarepairs or Rare Interpretations:

the rhythm of the rain keeps time (Gurathin & Mensah, some romantic feelings do arise) Gurathin makes a slow recovery from drug use and trauma, with Mensah's help. Note that although listed as unfinished, this fic is actually a series of time-consecutive shorts. At least of present, there's no cliffhanger.

Secrets (Murderbot & Gurathin, unrequited.) Gurathin's backstory here is fascinating, the story's take on the frenemyship is fascinating, and there is also an amazing sequel which is nearing completion. (The sequel is also unrequited--rare in fic but so common in real life! Which is one of the themes of the sequel--the gulf between stories dramatic enough to get made into fic, and thus which play a large part in SecUnit's knowledge of the world, versus ordinary life.)

Adjustment Period (Gurathin/Ratthi) The Corporation Rim is Hell, except instead of depressing, this author created a hilarious set of cultural conflicts. If you don't usually read romance, you might still like this as the focus is on the culture clash.

Humor: Human Friends Murderbot muses on its relationship with Gurathin, Three muses on its relationship with Ratthi (uhh I didn't manage to communicate the funny bits but this did make me laugh)

Maintenance Manual for SecUnits models 36b-27f Mensah POV! Everyone else too, but especially Mensah. It turns out that surrpisingly, the maintenance manual is useful not just for maintenance, but for understanding SecUnit's needs. This fic does have a serious side but it's also hilarious.

This list is a follow-up to this post, where I talked about why I support portraying asexual characters in a whole range of ways, and how Murderbot fanfic is such a trove of fiction wrestling with these themes. I could have made a whole post just examining all the different ways people approach "shippy" themes! In this case I wanted to show a variety so I listed a lot of non-shippy fic too. But there's so much thought and care in the shippy fic, I hate it when people dismiss these stories as ignoring Murderbot's identity.

This took ages and I only scratched the surface. (If I rec stuff in the future I'll probably just quote the AO3 summary.) And there's so much fic I haven't read yet, even by authors I know I like. Happy Reading!

[fiastomatocheek]

can we have your insight on how Luke was on the day Lucy was born?

you ask, so you shall receive 😌 here’s the full insight, from the moment luke found out you were pregnant, to the second he finally held little luce in his arms.

so i always imagine the reader as someone who thought about having kids before, but never really talked seriously about it. like it was an idea in the back of your head but not something you were set on. luke, on the other hand? he was already sold. he’s always been like, ‘i can only picture you having my kids and that’s it.’ but even with that, he never pressured you like ever. he’d always say, ‘if you want to have kids, i’m all in. if you don’t, that’s completely okay too. i just want you to be happy and never feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.’

he truly believed you were born to be a mom. he told you that all the time, like, ‘some people are just made to be mothers and you’re one of them.’ so when you found out you were pregnant with lucy, it wasn’t some dramatic secret. it happened kind of randomly one early morning. you were feeling a little off, and your period was five days late. so you took a test. of course, luke was right there literally standing next to you while you were peeing on the stick 😭 and he was like, ‘wait… are you pregnant?’ not totally shocked, but not fully expecting it either. when the test turned positive, he was over the moon. picked you up right off the floor kind of happy. he immediately started talking about the nursery, baby names, everything. he was so excited, probably even more than you were at first but still always checking in, making sure you were okay, asking how you felt about everything. when you told him you were happy and felt like it was the right time, he just melted. especially because he’d already imagined how sweet you’d be with a little human still learning about the world.

then came labour day. and because lucy was your first, it was a long one like 10 hours. luke was losing his mind the whole time. he refused to leave your side unless you begged him to go grab food or water. he was so scared something might happen the second he stepped out. and when lucy finally arrived, he cried. like really cried. kissed your forehead a million times, kept asking if you were okay, if you were in pain, if you needed anything. he just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel alone, not even for a second. he’s the one who picked the name too, lucy joy hughes. he said he wanted her name to carry happiness from the start, wanted her to be someone who brought light everywhere she went, just like you. and the day after she was born? full-on dad mode. diaper changes, swaddling practice, burping, and being so protective of your rest. he was also super aware of postpartum depression like genuinely made an effort to educate himself and kept checking in with you emotionally, not just physically.

he just really wanted you to feel supported and loved… because he knew what a huge thing your body and heart just went through.

[everlucivee]

𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘

summary: smoke isn't able to go through with his promise to free her, which leaves annie to deal with the consequences.

content warning: lowercase, cursing.

chapter 1 & 2

chapter 3

"the fuck you mean that ain't my baby?" smoke asked, taking a step closer to annie. that amount of anger from smoke would've scared anybody else, but not her because she knew he'd never hurt her.

"you heard me, elijah," annie said back, turning to walk into her house, looking back to see if he had followed. he did.

"annie, tell me you're lying," smoke said, staring directly in front of her now.

"i can't do that. you came here for an answer and i gave you one and now you're mad?"

"and you standing here acting like you can't understand why i'm mad," smoke said.

"i can't. i can't understand it. you were gone for a long time, smoke. you think i was gon' save it for you?" annie asked, tilting her head up at him.

"hell yeah, woman," smoke stated, pulling his gun from its holster, "whose baby is it?"

"none of your business. now can you go?" annie said, turning her back towards him.

"i'm not going anywhere. not until you tell me who put a baby inside you while i was gone."

"then you'll be here all night. get out." annie said, "i'm serious."

smoke laughed, "ight. i'll figure out myself then don't even worry 'bout it,"

smoke walked towards the door, placing the gun back in its holster, but he stopped once he'd heard her voice ring out from behind him.

"it's your baby, elijah."

smoke turned back towards her, a small smile gracing his face.

"this doesn't change anything. i still don't want you around."

"i understand," smoke said, but he couldn't stop his smile from growing wider, which in all honesty just pissed annie off.

"now leave."

and he did.

—

as soon as smoke had gotten back to the juke joint, which had also been his home recently, he'd sat there staring only at the wall.

he didn't know how to feel. a part of him was so insanely happy, but another part of him felt... horrible.

smoke felt lonely. this was possibly the worst time for something like this to be happening. he had nothing, he had no one. him and annie were far from on good or even just decent terms and here they were bringing another baby into this world. this cold, cruel world. how would something like this even work? would the baby be a vampire? would the baby be like him? regular, human?

as much as he hated him right now, he needed stack. his needed his brother. he needed someone, anyone to talk to and there's not like he had a definite location for anyone other than annie so instead he continued sitting there.

just staring, not knowing what to do, know knowing hot to feel, not knowing whether to cry or smile or just find some way, any way to numb this pain.

smoke was getting a second at this. they were getting a second chance at this. a second chance at raising a child after the first chance had been so cruelly ripped away from them.

that only made smoke feel more terrible about not being fully happy about this. their first baby girl, their savannah, who they'd lost so suddenly and whose death tore them apart both individually as people and as a couple.

after they'd first lost her, annie would say that she'd still felt their baby girls presence often, but smoke had never had that feeling. he believed that once a person died, they were gone completely. no after life, no heaven, no hell. just nothing.

but for the first time ever, smoke wanted to believe that there was something more. he needed to believe that there was something more.

he sighed, lowering his head towards the ground, "sav," smoke whispered, wiping the forming tears before they even fell, "papa's going through a lot right now and i know it's all my fault," smoke paused, lifting his head towards the ceiling.

"your mama ain't my biggest fan at the moment and i get why, but it still hurts. she's all i have," smoke sighed, taking a moment to pull himself together.

right when he opened his mouth to continue, there was a knock on the side door, this time much louder, much harsher than the last couple of times.

smoke fixed himself as best as he could before making his way to the door. "fool, why you banging on the door like that?" smoke said, opening the door to who he thought would be his brother.

but it wasn't. it was annie. smoke furrowed his eyebrows, confusion setting across his features. "as much as i want to, i cant do this alone and i shouldn't have to." annie whispered, lowering her head to look at the ground.

"i'm gon' be there. for you for the baby, always."

annie scoffed, rolling her eyes. smoke knew she wanted to say more, he could tell, but she didn't. she stayed quiet, looking back up to smoke, almost daring him to say something else.

"can we talk?" smoke asked.

"we already talking," annie replied.

"annie."

"you gon' let me in?" annie asked, glaring past him, trying to avoid eye contact.

"come in," smoke whispered, stepping out of the way.

annie walked past him, directly towards the small room.

"thought you needed space," smoke said once he'd reached the room as well.

"you don't want me here?"

"you know i do. i just want to respect your wishes."

"ironic," annie replied. "i do need space, but this is so, so fucking hard. living this life alone. i don't know what to do." annie was sitting down on the small bed now.

"you don't have to do any of this alone. i'm always gon' be here," smoke sighed, kneeling before her, "for whatever you need."

"it ain't the same. you ain't with me twenty four hours a day. you don't understand just how miserable this all makes me."

smoke dropped his head onto annie's legs, tears falling from his eyes. he didn't know what to say. he couldn't say sorry again, he knew it wouldn't change anything and would probably would just make the situation worse because as annie kept saying, 'sorry doesn't change a thing' and she was right. it doesn't.

smoke looked back up. tears were falling from annie's eyes as well, "get off of me, elijah,"

"baby, if i could take this back i would," smoke stood up, "i ain't do this to hurt you. you gotta believe me."

"it don't matter what your intentions were," annie wiped her tears, pushing smoke completely off of her, "it did hurt me and you have to live with that."

"i know," smoke whispered, "whatever you can't do, i'll do for you. whatever you need."

"you think that's gon' fix everything?"

"no, but it's the least i can do. it's what i wanna do."

"we can't always have what we want."

smoke sighed, glancing down towards annie's stomach, still not showing but still wanted to touch it. he didn't because he knew he couldn't.

he looked away. there'd been a time where he'd been able to touch her whenever he liked. a time where she enjoyed being touched by him. not anymore.

"how'd you know i'd be here?" smoke asked instead, distracting himself from the forming thoughts.

annie stayed silent for a while. "followed you here."

smoke didn't respond. they sat in silence for a while before he reached over to grabbed the unrolled cigarette.

and he tried to roll it despite being embarrassed because of the trembling. he knew she was watching and that only made him shake harder with nerves.

he couldn't ask her to leave. he didn't want her to leave so he pushed through the embarrassment for as long as he could.

"give it to me."

he looked over towards annie, her hand reaching out towards him.

"nah, i got it."

"i ain't gon' beg you. you're sitting here struggling so stop being so damn stubborn," annie responded, leaving her hand out for a few more seconds. she scoffed, so close to pulling her hand away after seconds had passed and he still hadn't handed it to her.

he looked back towards her, mouth opening to say something, but he stopped himself, thinking better of it. this is the best they'd been in months, he wasn't going to say or do anything to ruin that. 

they still weren't perfect, obviously, they were barely okay, but they were better, and smoke was gonna take anything he could get.

he passed it to her, watching as she expertly rolled up the cigarette, taking no more than thirty seconds.

she passed it back to him, his hand brushing hers as he pulled it away from her. he smiled softly, careful not to do anything that might piss her off or snap her out of this trance of not feeling so angry with him.

"thank you, annie," smoke said, grabbing his lighter off of the small table in front of them.

once he lit it, he quickly placed it into his mouth, breathing in a long slow drag from the cigarette.

after blowing the smoke from his mouth, he looked up at annie, "i know how to make this right."

"what, smoke? what could make this right?"

"i want you to turn me."

——————

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if you’d like to be added to my tag list please just lmk!

[sevenlayerloser]

Can I just. I'm not asking. It's an idea around when Saxon got his growth spurt and puberty had him in shambles. He got random aches all over and he looks/feels different and he's still getting used to the person in the mirror. When did this ragweed with a jaw replace rounded cherubic features

Girls in class and even adult strangers act a little different to him. Him putting 2&2 together then. He's not really sure that he likes it. Don't get him wrong, he loves the attention (how his mom keeps calling him handsome and pinching his cheeks) and the way some girls nod and hang off his every word, but his body and brain are still so awkward. It gets overwhelming. Naught but little grease spot, but people keep /looking/ at him

He just learned he liked jerking off last month and he feels like all his guy friends are screaming at him to get laid now and often. That it'd be weird for him to not take advantage of the momentum. (He doesn't know they're bluffing)

He will not allow himself to become othered or labelled a 'sensitive' kid

Losing his virginity when he was not mentally ready for it and apologizing to her multiple times throughout. (Likely someone older, but that's a whole different thing.) But getting mega positive reinforcement from the boys when they pry out details. It becomes a source of pride instead of insecurity

Now, it's everything from before, but he's also somehow a stud at 14. And this he knows he doesn't like. It makes him feel kind of sick and anxious, but he keeps getting flooded with positive attention for it. And he likes how it feels physically, so isn't that enough?

Having opinions and thoughts and a personality is really difficult, because initially, he wants to take the shape of every person he meets to make them like him.

But if he just has to stand there and let them love him for his body that's easy. He keeps chasing external validation in all directions. And from that never learned how to bond on an emotional level with girls/anyone.

Truthfully seeking out shallow relationships that are easier to handle. Can't feel hollow if he's never been full

It's also about the youthful eager grasps at the magic realm of becoming adult. If he's fucking, then that makes him mature

He curates his body/himself for consumption. And it turns him calloused and self loving and hedonistic. Not a far walk to redpill nation. Natty life creatine alpha mindset. Hard body seeking hard body ad nauseum. There's nothing higher. This is his value as a human being. Thrusting his looks/sexual prowess on others in what's become a tic. (Unfortunately, his only real hobby.) Mixed in with the fact that he looks the way he looks and people are going to objectify regardless of his intent

(Also not not relevant to how I imagine PatS's life could have gone if he didn't have his support system.)

And Saxon gets to relive everything through his brother!! Getting profoundly confused when Lochlan is more "meh, ig I got taller. Back to the ipad" instead of being fundamentally changed and shaped by his peers (Lochlan doesn't have any friends) and his own inner panopticon and larger society.

The fetishization of youth and innocence being a thing Saxon would have sympathy for if he didn't stomp that part of himself into the dirt. But instead it's just A Thing he can't quite place that Saxon needs to rip out of Lochlan with one hand but cherish and lust after with the other.

He can save him, he can drown him. Why is Sax envious of his brother breezing through what was the most confusing and tortuous/formative years of his own life and feverishly obsessed about Lochlan's relationship to sex. Who can say

I do think when he was on drugs he was bugged out enough to drop all guards. Didn't have the brain space to perform. He just wants to hang off his little brother and laugh and get his head pet and exist sensually without sexually if that makes any sense. Tactile

Lochlan sniper shots through the song and dance. Stares his older brother in the eye and gives him everything he's asked for one stroke at a time. And it makes him want to puke. Chelsea, Chloe, Piper all share their opinions. He is the skeezy sex guy. That's all he's made himself to be

Lust as a poison to his life that he's grabbed with both hands to ingest. Now wondering why he's sick

Lochlan isn't freaking out like Saxon would want him to. Jerking off his brother wasn't Earth-shatteringly bad, the thought of rejection got a bigger response.

Lochlan seeing all the signals correctly, but Saxon was not wanting to project the message. No, he was but not like that, never like that. Loch saw both the inner and outer desires. For Saxon to be sexually aggressive with any fit beating heart and to be laser focused on his younger brother

They were never meant to be acted on. It just oozes out of Saxon's pores as he tries to act out his love and desire to mentor. Him trying to redirect his desires in 'appropriate' avenues is majorly fucked. All his guts got scooped out ages ago to make room for empty aching desire. He was never going to be able to protect Loch in the way he wants. Not anymore than fire could protect kindling

[lewisdeklein]

Ranpo and Poe’s Development: Or alternatively a rant on how relationships change in bsd, but with a main focus on Ranpoe because I think about them too much

I’ve noticed an uptick of people who GENUINELY believe that not only is Ranpoe toxic, but Poe stalked Ranpo and I want to clear this up. Never once has it been stated in the manga or anime that Poe stalked him. It is true that he had an unhealthy attachment to him, and still does, but obsession doesn’t automatically equal stalking. I have no clue where that assumption even came from.

Also I think the big reason people have this weird view of their relationship is bc they refuse to look at any two characters in a dynamic way. They see their relationship as stagnant and unchanging, which is absolutely not the case.

I’ve also seen this in discussions of other pairings such as shin soukoku and soukoku. Yes, both ships have the potential to be incredibly toxic if you so choose to perceive them that way, but if you look at them through the story’s messages of change they are incredibly good for each other.

Atsushi and Akutagawa have spent the entire story slowly but surely helping each other improve. They are very obviously set up for an enemies to friends storyline(or lovers in a shipping context). The problem is with people who refuse to acknowledge that their relationship is changing and they may eventually no longer be fighting each other in the future. They encourage good change in one another despite their rocky start.

The same thing can be said about soukoku, but for them that’s entirely dependent on how you interpret their relationship. They aren’t the main focus of the story so it’s harder to really say if they are going to encourage any major change in each other, but honestly I’d say they’ve already changed each other, or at least helped each other, quite a bit. Dazai helped Chuuya defeat Verlaine in Stormbringer and throughout the novel reaffirmed that he believed in Chuuya’s humanity. They very much show how much they care about each other through their actions. I wouldn’t say they’re perfect, but I also wouldn’t say they’re bad for each other. They do try to help each other rather than tear each other down. I wouldn’t consider them toxic, just complicated.

Now back to Ranpoe specifically because I’m very passionate about this. I have a whole 9 page analysis sitting in my Google docs about Poe alone.

Poe DOES have an unhealthy attachment to Ranpo, but it changed from hatred to friendship. Ranpo helped crack him out of his shell after Poe failed to get his revenge. Poe is no longer a vengeful recluse who refuses to connect with society. Some could argue that Ranpo is to blame for making Poe shut himself off from people in the first place, but that was entirely Poe’s decision. He cut himself off from people and decided he needed revenge all on his own. More importantly though, if Poe’s entire identity was so fragile that it hinged on him being the best detective then he wasn’t living a healthy life to begin with. He was so dependent on the praise of other people that the idea of not being the best shattered his image of himself. If that’s all that drove him then he likely didn’t have any close friends or family to lift him up. If Ranpo for example had been devastated that badly by such a loss he’d have the Agency to help him, Poe didn’t have that.

Ranpo helped make his life better. No, isolating himself and letting his mind be consumed by hatred and vengeance was not better than his previous predicament, but after Poe lost again Ranpo helped him open up. He told him to keep writing for him after Poe lost as a way of offering friendship to him. A way for them to continue competing in a friendly way. He continuously tries to help Poe with his actions. He invites Poe to Kyouka’s welcome party likely to familiarize him with the agency and as a sign that he cares enough about him to invite him to events with his other friends (and sort of family since the ada is very much a found family). Then after that Ranpo asks for Poe’s help in the cannibalism arc (and later other arcs) via Poe’s ability. If you’re looking at it through a toxic lens you could try to say maybe Ranpo is exploiting his powers, but really he’s not forcing Poe to help him. If Poe really hated him he wouldn’t help out, but by having Ranpo continuously use Poe’s ability it’s communicating that they’re good friends. In the perfect crime arc Ranpo and Poe join forces to solve a mystery, again reinforcing their friendship, but also this is the set up for Ranpo helping Poe to making new friends. After all that happens with Mushitaro he makes him stay at Poe’s place because it’s the safest option, but also so they could all be buddies. They’re a trio for a reason.

Ranpo is Poe’s gateway into living a normal healthy life. He empathizes with Poe and wants to help him. Also he’s just being a good friend. Ranpo is better at communicating his love for people through his actions rather than his words unlike Poe who, literally helps people with his words via his ability to trap people in a novel, but also vocally tells people important to him how he feels. He told Ranpo how much he hated him upfront and proudly tells others he’s his rival. They are both very honest with each other in different ways. I think because these things are shown, not said, people are less likely to notice it. This is why it’s important to actually analyze the content you’re consuming.

Their relationship began as vengeance on Poe’s side and curiosity on Ranpo’s. Now they are both good friends who help each other when they are in need, despite Poe’s denial of it being anything but rivalry. It’s a slow but noticeable change in their relationship that would be immediately obvious if you just pay attention to the story and the themes BSD tries to communicate. So many relationships in this series are examples of how people around you can change your life. If you decide to let yourself become a better person it can happen, but you can’t do it alone. Dazai is probably one of the most obvious examples of that.

Anyways I’m just really tired of people misinterpreting things or not doing research when it comes to just about anything on the internet. This honestly isn’t just a problem in this fandom but many others as well. Follow me if you want more Ranpoe posting or whatever I guess, I also post skk stuff too.

[starlightshadowsworld]

You know I don’t talk about Yosano even she’s one of my favourite characters.

So here’s just a Yosano ramble/ appreciation post whatever you wanna call it.

Bones does not do her justice

Like at all.

I love the entire concept of her ability so much. I mean a doctor who has to hurt her patients in order to save them. It’s cool as hell on its own but then you add in her backstory.

And it becomes something incredible.

The way that her life has been defined by saving others and that the worth of human life is what she still believes in so strongly.

Even after all she’s been through that value for life has never wavered.

I love that Yosano’s most defining characteristic is her kindness. That she holds people so tightly because she’s afraid not that they’ll break. But what could happen if she fixes them.

It’s an interesting path for a character especially one with her ability to carry.

Not to mention that with Fukuzawa and Ranpo as the founders, Yosano is the first member of the Armed Detective Agency. She joined a year after it was founded and as such has played a vital part in what the Agency has become.

I love how much Yosano delights in the chaos around her. How she always seems like the voice of reason when in actuality she makes things 10X worse before fixing the problem.

It’s true to her ability and it’s true to her.

She’s such a menace. I love seeing a healing character just go off the rails. I love the way Yosano doesn’t shy away from bloodshed but actively enjoys it.

How utterly unhinged she can be like Bones changed the scene but when that guy at the train station (chapter 7) tried to slap her she crushed his hand.

And said “well a thousand pardons sir. Would it be more womanly for me to crush your puny XXX under my heel like my heel perhaps?”

Queen.

Ah the days when everything could be fixed by Yosano scaring a guy into defeat.

Good times.

And I love putting her with characters that I feel can match her energy but also balance her out.

Unfortunately for me I don’t ship what I believe is her most popular pairing. No hate to Kousano shippers I just don’t vibe with it personally.

Folk I ship with Yosano are:

Kajii because I just like the idea of a mad scientist obsessed with defeating death with a doctor who wants nothing more than to save others.

That they’d start as rivals but they’d start to see why the other feels the way that they do. And maybe it would draw them closer to each other.

Margaret because they’re both people who will do whatever it takes to protect their loved ones. No matter what the personal cost may be.

They’re very intimidating people with a strong and noble heart. I think Yosano would ruffle her feathers and reveal a more playful side to Margaret. And that Margaret would respect Yosano’s drive and resolve.

Chuuya because their fight to me sounded like they were flirting. Like I see them going out to get drunk together, match each others freak and go out on the town.

But most importantly I think they just have a lot in common. Both of them have a history of being viewed as tools for their abilities. They have had to deal with the hatred and almost worship others give their abilities.

In a way that undermines and erases their humanity. They’ve grappled with their own identities and the deaths that follow them for it.

Kunikida because they’re very opposite personality wise and yet hold a lot of respect for one another. He trusts her with his life and she trusts in him.

They’ve both known each other for years and presumably have often fought alongside each other. I think they’d balance each other out with Yosano getting him to unwind and Kunikida looking out for her too.

Also you can’t convince me he wasn’t the reason she started carrying the chainsaw.

As far as friendships go I love her and Ranpo’s friendship. The way she looked out for Atsushi on the train. That Fukuzawa tried to spare her from Mori’s grasp. I have a headcanon that she trained Kenji and it’s sweet seeing the bonds she has with others.

I also had an AU called Moonlit Butterfly that centred around Yosano and Atsushi participating in the Great War. With Yosano as a medic as she is in canon and Atsushi bought in (a year younger then her in this btw) as a soilder.

And how the two navigate that with Shunzen Tachihara.

I may be bringing it back at some point in the form of a collection of one-shots with other AYs. But I thought I’d give it a mention here because I do go in lto my version of Yosano within that.

And yeah I just think that Yosano is a great character and that she deserves more love.

[cosmicjoke]

Jeeze, they really did cut out and rearranged so many important moments from the Uprising arc, including really important character moments for Levi and pretty much everyone else, too, in season 3 of AoT. I’d forgotten just how much, since I haven’t watched it in a while. You could honestly make an entire analysis post comparing the two and detailing how much they changed. It's pretty annoying because, even though there are more moving parts and the series of events are more complex in the manga, by cutting so much out, it makes the story and messaging less clear. I still can't believe people complained that this arc was boring when it's so essential to the entire core of AoT overall.

Just talking about Levi, not only was the whole subplot with Dimo Reeves pretty much taken out, or the scene with Historia, but starting at the end of season 2, his exchange with Erwin over the news that humans are really Titans, and him telling Erwin that he’d made the decision on his own to make the 104th his new squad, or him thanking Connie for going with Hange to Ragako to confirm the Titan there is his mother, and also his awkward exchange with the 104th over Eren’s hardening experiments. Then the scene with Nifa and him thanking her for riding all all night to bring them Erwin’s message. They also completely cut out the 104th arguing over Levi killing people, which is really the story’s introduction of this major theme of not judging others without full context. And because they cut the scene between Levi and Historia, they also cut the scene of Dimo explaining to her and his son that Levi is “awkward, but kind”, which is basically Levi’s whole character in a nutshell. They also cut short the torture scene with Sannes, with Levi breaking his nose after Sannes brags about how many people he’s tortured and killed, as well as his shocked reaction at Hange’s brutality. And also they cut the whole scene with the merchants in Trost berating Levi and the Survey Corps and Levi saving their lives after from getting run over by that carriage. Plus they completely cut Levi out of the scene where they take out Dimo’s men after abducting Jean and Armin in disguise, and again, obviously, they cut out Levi involving Dimo with Erwin’s message and him telling everyone if they’re crazy enough to trust Erwin, they can continue to follow him. Even Levi questioning that MP while searching for Eren and Historia, they cut material out, and they just completely cut out, changed and rearranged the entire sequence of events leading up to and including Eren and Historia's actual kidnapping. Part of that is cutting out how Levi's own ability to strategize is shown, because his first plan with Dimo fell through due to Kenny, but was a solid plan, and then, again, Levi accurately guessed how they'd try transporting Eren and Historia and from where, which, again, Kenny predicted, but it shows Levi's own skill as a leader, and it's just kind of shitty that they cut all that out, especially when you think about how many people constantly accuse Levi of not being able to plan or make decisions of his own. I'm really just scratching the surface here, but it’s just crazy how much they cut out. I just wish they’d kept all that stuff in, because it really is important for both the story and for Levi’s character. Obviously, you can still understand everything and his character perfectly well without all of it, but you’ll have a much better understanding with it. That doesn't even touch on all the stuff they cut for the other characters, like Erwin and his conversation with Nile, or with Pixis, etc... It’s just frustrating, because more people watch the anime than read the manga.

Well, I guess this is just me endorsing reading the manga as well as watching the anime, because you honestly aren't getting a full picture of Isayama's core themes and characters, at least when it comes to the events of this arc, if you only watch the anime.

Maybe I'll re-read the manga after my watch through of the anime and do some analysis of it as I go along.

Also, while flipping through volume 14 of the manga to remind myself of what they’d changed in the anime, I came across this panel.

Isayama really is the king of foreshadowing.

[ineffabildaddy]

there’s time to change - a good omens ficlet

an 862 word G-rated ficlet, written from supreme archangel aziraphale’s pov. also published on ao3 at the link in title. thank you in advance for reading!

-

It was my idea to start the bulletin.

Officially, it is the remit of one of the lower-ranked angels (I always imagine it being Muriel, though they’re not here at the moment). Each week, a Scrivener compiles a list of the most notable events and discoveries among humans that have occurred over the past seven days. There are usually pictures, or even graphs, and I insist that the information is presented on paper. Not real paper, of course, but miracled paper. The texture of it as one weighs it in one’s hands isn’t quite the same… but then, the way one’s hands feel in Heaven isn’t at all like the way they feel on Earth either (up here, they feel impossibly light, but ‘light’ as in ‘empty’, not ‘free’ or ‘in flight’). So, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way.

My intention was to make a routine of passing the singular copy of the bulletin throughout the offices in Heaven, so that each angel would in time learn more about Earth, and with any luck grow a genuine interest in it. However, despite my efforts, more often than not it ends up in a translucent wastepaper basket down the hall from my desk before anyone but me can even so much as skim it.

(I suspect it’s Michael that puts it there as soon as I am finished with it - almost undetectable but for a tiny corner of the last page, poking out over the basket’s rim just far enough that I’ll spot it as I walk by.)

Each Monday afternoon, after finding a moment in which I am quite sure I am alone, I pore over the pages with absolute focus, in search of any sign of you . What chaos have you caused this week? Or, more accurately, what chaos have you watched idly as it unfolded, overactive left eyebrow raised and thumbs hooked through your belt loops?

I know you’re retired, these days. A former demon. Nevertheless, I hope against hope that someday, there will be a sign for me; an antic that could only have been devised by your mind, intended only for my interpretation.

Needless to say, I have yet to find one. But, today, I came awfully close.

You see, there was a space mission. Its name escapes me, but I am sure you will know it. You always did follow them all ever so closely. Anyway, its purpose was to discover as much about Jupiter as possible, and among its findings was a collection of images of the planet’s face. One of these images was chosen for the front page of the bulletin, and beneath it were the scientists’ ‘findings’ among established ‘facts’ about the planet. They even go so far as to claim it is the oldest planet in the solar system.

Did you predict that humanity would come this far, Crowley? Did you plant these little non-facts, these tidbits of false knowledge, to throw humans off the scent?

Did you think it kinder to guide them towards the belief that the universe was not to be controlled by God till the very last, but rather that it was theirs for the conquering? Or have they figured these falsehoods out entirely by accident, not because of but in spite of the way you lit up the galaxy all those years ago?

Whatever the answers to my questions may be, it is clear that they are the most determined creatures in all of creation. They are dedicated, at times almost to the point of delusion, to finding beauty wherever it can tangibly be interpreted. And even the most clear-minded of humans must see the beauty in Jupiter. The swirling ripples of the clouds, the delicate quality of its many tiny moons… the Great Red Spot, the storm plaguing its surface that has lasted at least 200 years… the sheer size of the planet, eleven times the diameter of Earth. Enormous, tempestuous, and mighty beyond comprehension.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of your proudest projects. It is complex in a way that uniquely fascinates those who know it, gorgeous both at the barest glance and the closest examination. It must have been one of the final works you created, seeing as we rolled out the solar system some time after I helped you- well, after I held the scroll while you lit up your so-called ‘star factory’ the first time we met.

I warned you, then, of what might transpire if you started making suggestions Upstairs. And I didn’t enjoy watching what happened afterwards. But, if I could do it all again, I wouldn’t wish you had asked fewer questions…

… I would wish that I had asked more of them.

We saved the Earth once, Crowley. Together, me and you, as a team, a group. With a little help from our friends, that is.

And I reckon we can do it again. In fact, we don’t particularly have a choice. But, for now, I’ll keep standing by until there is a real sign from you. Because we can’t get started until you send me a message.

Make haste, dear boy. I eagerly await you.

-

i hope you liked it! comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated<3 you can view the work on ao3 here

taglist (no pressure to read): @bowtiepastabitch @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @tangerine-ginger @greenthena @and-his-hands-were-24-crows @amagnificentobsession @iammyownproblematicfave @ineffable-rohese @cottagecore-raccoon @createserenity @queer-reader-07 @nimbusalba @adverbian @ingenio-ira @idliketobeatree @eybefioro @dontbotheraziraphale @marika-misc @captainblou @naturallyteal @missdeliadilisblog @minervas-hand @hyperfixating-rn-brb

please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist!

[offdxty]

Listening to Arthur explain what he will be doing - offering the little details even, telling that he's in control already, knowing what to do, how to proceed - it calms Kane down even further, though he hasn't appeared tense to begin with.

Not at all, because he's not too worried; He trusts them both, and he trusts his own body, the universe.

...Yet, as his partner said himself, they have no idea what's going to happen - and why any of this has happened in the first place. Have no access to a hospital, should things go downhill. At least no easy access, that is; Arthur would find them a place, he's sure about it, if the need arised.

But besides all that, they cannot really plan ahead, as no book exists that tells about how a man like Kane is going to give birth to twins. Whether his pregnancy will even be a stable one, managing to bring life to full-term. As much as he trusts the system of life, it's faulty and makes mistakes; Aging is an error in code, all things considered - cells dying, new ones being made, but the process slows down, and cells die, die, die, and people age. Die themselves, at some point.

That's probably a rough way to explain things, and not entirely correct, but... it's easy to think about this way, without bringing too much science into the whole of it. Besides, the message is clear: Even though Kane is not human, his body is, to a certain degree - a copy of another body, another man who'd stumbled into the lighthouse many weeks, months, even years back... and now here they are, and the body has seemingly adapted enough to create offspring.

It shouldn't have done that, had Kane turned out to be 100% human. Even this copy of his frame, as neat and correct as it might be, is different, still - and who knows if it isn't making mistakes itself, on top of all of those errors that exists within nature anyways?

So, long story short - Kane does think about it, and is feeling some way because of it. But Arthur is here, and he assures him - has a plan, will keep a spreadsheet of Kane and the babies, will collect data and figure everything out. He is in control, he will offer Kane something to hold onto, and it's everything Kane could ever ask for in return.

They will manage, somehow. Things will be okay. Arthur will be here, and he will figure things out - he will find a way, for whatever comes for them.

Kane sighs, basically melts into their embrace as he keeps glancing over to the window, thoughtful - jaw shifting a bit, shoulders moving softly with each in- and exhale he takes. Slow, steady, comfortable.

---Then, he lets out a snort, followed by a chuckle and a brief shake of his head - amused, really, about the sudden statement made regarding... well, that.

Him pissing in a jar.

"---Well, isn't that a romantic thing to say, truly." Kane's being a tease; Another chuckle, an exhale - but he knows that this is part of what's coming for him, since, apparently, urine can tell a lot about a human's health.

They'd had the talk before. Arthur telling him to be honest, should anything ever change in any way about that part of Kane; Even though his lover hadn't been around back when Kane had gone through multi-organ failure before, Arthur is very much worried about it happening again, at some point.

It makes sense, and Kane understands. They never figured out why Kane went through it in the first place, almost died, but then just... recovered. Sure, the shimmer's source is gone, and somehow that had affected Kane in a good way it seemed... but there's no proof existing, nothing that tells about it never going to happen again.

A hum, a blink, hand continuing to draw patterns into Arthur's stomach - feeling the fabric of his shirt, the curves of muscles beneath, gentle dips and a few rolls of fat.

Kane loves them all, very much.

"Yeah, alright - I'll piss in a jar for you once a week. We should... get a piss jar for that. You know, for obvious reasons..."

Smirking, Kane allows a second to pass, then shrugs.

"Should we label it? Kane's piss jar?" ...Okay, that's weird. Kane grimaces, then snorts out another, amused sound - feeling a bit like a child here for laughing about such things. It's easy to entertain him, sometimes...

A swallow, a sigh, with him forcing himself back into more serious territory; A blink, a nuzzle of his nose against Arthur's shoulder...

"You'll take care of me." Soft-spoken, genuine. "You'll take care of everything. I know you will. I trust you. If anyone can make this work - and do spreadsheets, get us a new ultrasound, anything - then it's you. You're... especially good at such things, at planning and solving problems. I admire that about you - a lot."

Arthur allowed himself to be tugged down without resistance, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly as Kane pulled him in with more strength than he was probably supposed to use. He made a faint sound solely to be dramatic, hitting the bed with a soft oof, but he quickly settled right where he was wanted. Laying on his side, his back curved just slightly, one arm slung loosely around Kane’s neck. 

At first, he didn’t say much of anything at all; he just existed, breathing quietly, listening to the storm roll on outside. It was still a bit loud, raindrops hitting the roof of the van in large, scattered pats, thunder rolling in the distance; Arthur had never been frightened of storms, though. He liked them, were he honest - there was something calming about rain and thunder, the gentle purr of the universe as it once again cleared the earth around them. 

Rain was a reset, a new beginning - it only felt fitting that they would discover something so big in the middle of a rain storm. 

... It was nice to be held like this.

It was something that Arthur had rejected for a bit, just because it took him time to get used to it; but now having Kane’s limbs draped around him felt as natural as a blanket. The body heat was nice, as was the leg flopped over his own. It wasn’t suffocating, even if he was usually more picky about weights against his legs - any ache didn’t matter. 

Arthur exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. One of his hands went to Kane’s hair, content to toy with the damp curls - the other wrapped around Kane in return. He wasn’t as clingy as Kane was, but he was happy to be close. Happy to touch. 

“… Yeah,” he answered. “I’ll make a spreadsheet. Two, actually - one for the twins, one for you.” It still felt odd to say the word ‘twins’, to acknowledge that they were going to have children. 

His lips pressed to Kane’s forehead without thinking much about it; just a brief, warm kiss, pulled from the affection at the thought.

“I’ll record… weight. Pulse, blood pressure, vitals, nausea…. Appetite changes. Uh… probably your temperature, mood, sleep. Other symptoms. When we get there, I’ll focus on their movements. Size comparisons, make sure they’re growing right.” 

The twins would have each other as a control, which was nice; if one of them was notably smaller or moving notably less, then they would have a reason to be concerned. They would have to figure out a plan for what to do, in that scenario; Arthur would have to poke around, would have to find people they could rely on. 

Despite being a rather closed off person, deep down, he could come off as extremely charismatic and trustworthy at surface level. 

“I need to find a better machine,” he continued. “Something better quality. We’re too far out for hospital equipment - but I wouldn’t take you near one even if we weren’t.” He let out a soft breath. “It’ll be tricky to source something without flagging us, but… I’ll figure it out.” He always did. He was the one who did that - the one who figured things out, the one who found solutions. The one who took care of them, he liked to think. 

Another pause passed - he was still running through the mental checklist. Medication, food, access to supplements, daily check-ins - but Kane’s fingers were warm, and the little circles being drawn on his stomach were enough to make his brain soften into affection rather than strategy. 

“… You just focus on taking care of yourself, and taking care of them,” he settled on. “I’ll take care of the rest.” 

A hand lifted and curled lightly over Kane’s back, tucking him closer, his thumb brushing a small back-and-forth pattern there. It was odd to be this calm, he was distantly aware - they had no idea how this had happened, no explanation, no guarantee that things would be fine. But he felt okay - he felt steady. 

“I am gonna make you piss in a jar for me, every week,” he continued, entirely serious yet aware of the humor paired with it. “Just to make sure everything looks right.” 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

[dantevhell]

I am starting to understand rujinu appeal (again)(after a very good autistic yapping session with my bestie who is brain rotting over rujinu) but I still ship them in a very specific way that only makes sense to me I fear