#and i kept switching back and forth like. i thought flat was normal

[something-tofightfor]

Christmas in July #5: Just One Thing I Need

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader (’Starlight’ / NSFW Alphabet Ezra and Reader)

Word Count: 2,748

Rating: Slight NSFW; It’s kinda smutty. Language. Sexual content. Mentions of canon-typical violence and events that took place during the movie. Ezra’s remaining hand and his mouth deserve warnings of their own. 

I am SO SAD to not include this entire gif within the post, but this screenshot still gets the point across. Thank you for this request, @cannedsoupsucks - I need to get back to Ezra and this Reader at some point VERY SOON because they’ve been waiting patiently ... so here’s a glimpse. Had to include a little bit of angst, becuase it’s so close to when Ezra returned from the Green ... but it’s still decidedly fluffy... and kinda sorta smutty, too. For a minute. 

Lifting his mouth from where it had been previously - the patch of skin just above your hip that drove you wild - Ezra’s voice filled the room. “Do you realize, Starlight, that this is the first Christmas I’ve been on the Ephrate with just you since -” “Since the first year we were together.” You interrupted him, your mumbled words ending with a sharp intake of breath as he lowered his lips again, a damp trail left behind as he moved them. “Ezra, you … I’m not stupid. Kevva, what are you doing?” You knew exactly what the man was doing; he was trying to distract you, to keep you from getting out of bed and leaving him alone in the chilly morning air. “Ezra.” With a quiet laugh, you used both hands to reach for his head, the man’s cheek pressed against your bare stomach, breath fanning out over the dampened, exposed skin. “Come on, look at me.” 

He did, turning over so that he was laying on his back, dark eyes finding yours in the mid-morning light as his head turned to the side again. “I’m looking at you, just as you requested.” He raised an eyebrow and you were happy to see that his cheeks were fuller than they had been only a few months earlier, his eyes bright and warm again. He’s getting there. “Was there something that you wanted to discuss?” “When’s Cee coming back?” You ran your fingers through his hair, head cocked to one side. “I know it was supposed to be before Christmas, but …” But that storm’s headed in, and … “She won’t be here until after, will she?” “She will not.” Ezra only sounded slightly disappointed, sadness briefly flashing in his eyes before he spoke again. “There’s no time to switch her transport, nor are there earlier tickets available to do so. With this snowstorm, it’s safer for her to say at school, with her friends until the second half of her holiday break commences.” That’s what I thought. “She’s going to spend Christmas with Dyna and her family, right?” Ezra nodded, the rasp of his beard against your skin making you shiver. He knows he’s doing that, too. “Good.” Ezra reached out with his hand, fingers closing around your elbow and squeezing. “As much as I love having her here, Ezra … I…” Trailing off, you bit your lip and looked away. I’m being selfish. I … she’s just a kid, and she’s important to him, which means she’s important to me, too. 

“I understand, Starlight.” With only a little difficulty, Ezra lifted himself into a sitting position, his hold on you tightening and your arm helping to stabilize him as he rose. “You can say it.” “It’s been too many holidays apart, Ezra. Too many birthdays and Christmases and Harvests and New Turns. For both of us. I want to celebrate things with her - with both of you, but …” You shrugged. “Right now, for this Christmas? The first one back? I’m happy it’s just the two of us.” “She’ll celebrate with Dyna and Aric and their parents. She’ll get to see real snow for the first time, since they’re out in the flats.” You nodded, eyes still on the man. “You and I will spend the day together, and when we pick her up from the docking station?” He leaned closer, sliding his legs over the sheets and moving up so that he was closer to your face. “We’ll have a second Christmas a few days late, with Cee.” 

“Does that make me a terrible person, though?” Frowning, you reached out, fingertips finding and moving over the silvery scar on his cheek. “She’s just a kid, and it’s Christmas.” He said your name, lowering his face toward yours and pressing a kiss to your lips, the action much gentler than you were used to from him. No, it’s much gentler than it was before. Now … this is normal. 

“Think of it this way.” Rubbing the tip of your nose with his, you felt him smile. “A half turn ago, she was on the Green with Damon. Had those unfortunate circumstances not occurred, she likely wouldn’t be celebrating one Christmas, and if she did? It wouldn’t be anything like either of the ones she’ll have with us.” He brushed your hair away from your face with his large hand, staring into your eyes. “Now? She’ll get two days to spend with those she cares about. Two days of feeling safe and warm and happy, with no expectations placed upon her except that she enjoy them.” 

It still astounded you - the way he’d come to care about the girl so quickly, despite everything that had occurred since they’d met. You knew that he felt guilty about inadvertently causing Damon’s death, but Ezra spent his days trying to make up for that - with himself and with the girl, and she’d long since forgiven him. And he’ll forgive himself, too. Eventually.  “You’re right.” Sighing, you gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re always right, Ezra.” “I am far from always right, Starlight.” He kissed you again, this one more heated than the first, lips insistently pressed to yours. “We both know that.” You reached for him, mindful of the end of his arm, hidden beneath the short sleeve of the dark shirt he wore, and made contact with his side, fingers pressed to his ribs - which weren’t as prominent anymore. “But if you’re being selfish, I must confess that I am selfish, too.” What? “You’re not the only one that counted those missed holidays. With each one that passed, I also marked them into the volume of my life, though it was in very different ways than you.” 

He’d had very little with him when he and Cee finally fled the Green on the stolen rock jumper, but one of the things that he’d managed to conceal safely in his suit along with a modest stash of aurelac was a small journal, pages covered front to back in Ezra’s tiny, neat handwriting. It was one of the first things he’d shown to you when you were reunited, and so you knew what he was referring to. He kept track of the days he’d spent on the desolate moon in there - circling the important ones, making notes about others that held significance in shorthand that only he understood. Because he wanted to remember, even when it was hopeless. “We did what we could, Ezra.” 

You could feel him beginning to withdraw, his thoughts turning back to the extended period of time on the Green, and so you chose not to let him, placing the hand that wasn’t on his side on his cheek to turn his head back toward you. Look at me, Ezra. You’re here. “We did.” He smiled then, warmth returning to his eyes and his expression coming back to life. “The same way we will now, when my feet and heart are firmly back upon the Ephrate’s surface.” Ezra stared at you for a few seconds without speaking, and you waited, knowing that he had more to say. He always does. “Now. We should get dressed and go to get that tree you promised me before the snow hits here.” 

--- 

You had to go to three different locations and it took a few hours, but you and Ezra finally found the perfect tree for your living room, a kind man helping Ezra carry it to your vehicle and the two of them lashing it to the top. You could tell that he was frustrated - before, you and Ezra would have handled it yourself, the man doing most of the knot-tying and heavy lifting, but with only one arm, there were new limitations that he was still getting used to. And, you thought as you both settled into your seats to go home, he’s going to need all of his strength to help me carry it inside. 

That was less of a struggle than you imagined it to be, with Ezra holding onto the trunk end and you using both hands to stabilize the needled top as you carried it up the few steps and through your front door. Once it was securely in the stand - and only leaning slightly to one side, the two of you stood back to admire your work, Ezra using his arm to pull you back and into his chest, fingers wrapped around the front of your shoulder. “It may be hubris on my part, but I … believe that we did well, Starlight.” You laughed at that, the silhouette of the tree in front of the window making you feel giddy. 

“It’s not. It looks damn good, Ezra.” He kissed the side of your head, rocking slightly back and forth. “I’ll dig the lights out later tonight, and then the ornaments tomorrow. We’ll have it done in no time.” He’d never helped you decorate for the holiday before, but in the weeks he’d spent recovering from his injuries on the Green in your house, the two of you had agreed to hold nothing back while moving forward, sharing every experience possible. Christmas is no different. “Plenty of time to wrap the presents and get them under there before Cee gets home.”

His arm tightened around you at that, Ezra pulling you even closer. “In the spirit of Christmas, there’s something else I need to admit to you.” He spoke quietly, murmuring into your ear. “Cee being delayed is … fortuitous.” Is it? How? He urged you to turn and face him, and when you did, you were met with the full strength of Ezra’s gaze, the man unblinking as he watched you. “It gives me the only gift I truly want.” 

“W… what do you want, Ezra?” You felt heat creeping through your body at the way he was staring at you. Though you’d craved it while he was gone, you were still getting used to the intensity of Ezra’s full attention, to the way him watching you as if he could see inside of you still made you feel the same way it had when you’d first met him in your lecture hall. I thought he’d want to spend this holiday with her … with all three of us together, but he … this seems like … he wants something else. 

“You.” He leaned in, lips tracing over your temple and then down, his hand following the same path on the other side of your face. “All I want this Christmas is you, and for the two of us to have a chance to -” You kissed him hard as an interruption, both hands coming up to the sides of his face to keep him from moving, but Ezra wasn’t going anywhere. And he won’t again. “You like hearing that, don’t you?” You could tell that he was smiling as he spoke, but all you could do was nod, both eyes closed as you leaned your forehead against his. I do. “Incredible.” He kissed you again, your lower lip fit perfectly between both of his. “I’ve rendered you speechless, Starlight, with a simple -” “Ezra.” You breathed out his name, relief flooding your body again at the fact that he felt the same as you - that as much as he wanted Cee to have normal holidays, he was just as thankful as you were to have more time together, just the two of you. There was plenty of time to talk - to continue rehashing the years you’d spent apart, the months you’d worried about him, the things that he’d endured during his trip. Now’s not the time. Now isn’t… “Up, Ezra.” Taking a half step back, you moved both hands to the hem of his shirt, taking the fabric between both hands. “Lift your arms up.” 

It had taken the man over a month to show you the extent of his injuries; not only the healing wound on the arm he’d had amputated, but the scarring on his chest, along with the other marks on his body that hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen him. But they’re a part of him now, and he has to… understand that I want to see them. “What are you … we have a tree to…” But you could hear in his voice that he didn’t want you to stop, one arm raised high above his head and the other extended upward as far as it would go to match.

“The tree can wait.” You pulled the long-sleeved shirt off, letting it drop to the floor with a quiet thunk as the knotted sleeve hit. “There’s a snowstorm coming, right? That means we’re gonna be stuck for a while.” He grinned, the expression genuine, and you let your gaze roam over his exposed skin before you met his eyes again. “I just wanted you back too, Ezra.” You nodded once. “And now I’ve got you.” Without warning, you dropped to your knees, looking up at him. “It’s the best gift I could have asked for. So I’m going to make it count. All of it.” 

“Starlight, I…” But he didn’t stop you, even as your hands undid the button on his pants followed by the zipper. More often than not since he’d been back in your life, you’d been the one to initiate intimacy, but you didn’t mind. Not with him. Ezra’s fingers wrapped around your chin, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. Yeah? Silently questioning him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, you felt the seconds tick by, hearing the quiet but constant tick-tick-tick as the ice pellets began to hit the windows. It starts. “What are you waiting for?” His voice was thick with desire, but he didn’t look away, even as your hand found the slit in the front of his underwear, fingers wrapping around him and tugging his length free. 

From the moment that you wrapped your lips around the tip, you knew that you had him; Ezra’s eyes snapping shut and his mouth flying open, a string of words reaching your ears that you’d never grow tired of hearing him say. There was no need for him to be quiet, and so he wasn’t, the hand dropping from your chin to your shoulder, bracing himself on your body. When you finally pulled back to take a deep breath, you glanced up, noticing that Ezra had fallen silent. “What?” Clearing your throat, you swallowed, slowly stroking him with one hand. “Got real quiet, Ezra. Do you want me to stop?” “No, I want to get back into that Kevva-damned bed with you right now, Starlight.” He rasped the words out, voice thick and slightly hoarse. “Get up.” You loved that you could do that to him, loved hearing the change in his voice, the drop as he told you what he wanted and needed from you. “We’ll finish this there, where I can fulfil my obligation and show you thoroughly just how much I appreciate being alone with you.” 

Pulling your hand away from him, you held both of them up, palms facing out as you rose to your feet, taking a step back. “I’m an obligation to you now, Ezra?” But you were joking and he knew it, even as he bent down to remove his pants one leg at a time after tucking himself back behind the fabric of his underwear, though it did little to hide his excitement from you. It never did. He groaned as he straightened up, standing in front of you wearing only the one article of clothing, lean body on full display. Oh, I missed you, Ezra. “I don’t mean it like that.”  

“I know.” He took a step toward you, forcing you backward, and even though there was no malice in his posture or expression, Ezra stayed silent until you reached the doorway of the bedroom, his eyes landing on the window and causing you to turn away from him to look. “It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” In the minutes that you’d spent on your knees in front of him, the ice had changed to snow, fat flakes swirling outside of the window. “Good.” He stepped behind you, arm snaking around your waist and his palm sliding beneath your shirt and up, settling just beneath the bottom of your bra as he held you close again. “Looks like I’ll have to ensure that you’re well taken care of until it lets up.”

---

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[embryos-first-heartbeats]

so... I tried salvia

Yup, I finally did it. I smoked something for the first time. After a lifetime of not being a smoker, I inhaled that shit. It wasn’t easy, I coughed, a lot. I still don’t like smoke. But what I do like is salvia. Damn. People aren’t fucking around when they say that salvia is strong... and weird as hell.

My first experience with salvia was actually chewing it, the taste sucked hardcore and I really didn’t find the effects to be strong enough (granted, I only used a small amount to test how my mind and body would react to the new substance), it went well enough but I wanted to move to the next level: smoking.

It was a few days to a week later that I was finally able to try smoking it, and I had to look up videos on how to even use a bong. I had this tiny cheap thing that I bought off of Amazon because I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for in a bong. I started by putting some plain leaf in the bowl and smoked it, it was truly awful from a physical perspective. Mentally, I definitely felt... different. I tried a few more bowls and closed my eyes and in my head I got some interesting faint 3D tunnels formed out of static. They were spinning. But I also got an image of some evil face grinning maniacally (tbh it looked kind of like the jerma sus meme but it wasn’t super funny because I’ve gotten an evil grinning figure before, off morning glory seeds)

I wanted to smoke more but there was another person in the house, she was going to leave for a few hours soon though so I waited until after she left to continue my experiment. I put on a long YouTube compilation of music from one of my favorite artists. I smoked a little bit more plain leaf but I quickly decided I wanted something more intense. I have a gram of both 10x and 20x, so I got the 10x out and put a pinch of it it into the bowl, lit it, and decided to put my mind into the hands of this new substance. I wasn’t expecting much... but then it hit me. Yeah, it hit me and I was pretty amazed by how quickly I went from mostly sober, to diving into deep hallucinogenic water. It was like DXM and nitrous all at the same time but way stronger than either one.

I kept pulling my hood over my eyes to block the light out, and I took my glasses off, which felt amazing and natural, like scratching an itch and that it was exactly what I needed to do at that moment. I pulled my hood over my entire face but I kept thinking I didn’t want to somehow make it hard to breathe. My entire vision morphed into this three-lobed formation of the little bit I could actually see, repeated on continuous lines in a clover shape. I felt a little overwhelmed, like I had done something that I wasn’t really supposed to do, since I told the other person I wouldn’t try 10x by myself. But at that point I could feel myself sink back, and I felt like I was on a boat in the ocean being rocked gently by waves. I moved my hands back and forth in front of me, mimicking the feeling.

At the end there were these faint 2D panels with these cartoon ape characters looking back at me, like I was supposed to follow them. It started to fade and I opened my eyes, sat up, and the first thing that came into my mind was some nonsense about “hairy gorilla soda bottles”. After it faded a bit more, I looked at the bong just thinking “holy shit!” I felt really good but it was way more than anything I’d experienced before that point. I knew immediately that I wanted to do more.

The second time around, when I started to enter I got a faint vision of a purple cartoon hippo looking over a book that was also a farm with a sunrise, I was a part of a class but I kept disturbing the class by moving around too much. The vision changed and became a lot more vivid, there were these purple and white teddy bears made of hollow rolling tubes, and I was one of the tubes. The tubes were rolling but also moving like on a conveyor belt or something. I was going to get pulled into the “inside” of the teddy bear and I was annoyed by this because I knew it was going to be too dark to see anything in there, and I wanted my “outside” time to be longer.

After I was sucked in there was this version of a house made of those rolling tubes, it was flat, and two of my family members were in front of it, they were also made of tubes and their arms, legs, and bodies were super thin and featureless, I don’t think they had distinct faces either, and they were both reaching into the middle of the front of the house with their “hands” touching. I just wanted to go inside the house. Then I was on this pinched oval type thing, I could see the whole thing and one part looked closer than the other, where there were repetitions of the room I was in, linked to this bicycle chain structure, with gaps between them, on a black background. This was all I could see, but I was also on/in it and it was my what I felt my face was. It kept looping over and over and there was this word/sound/concept that kept repeating and it was really frustrating for some reason because I had to keep repeating this loop. I felt stuck during this part and didn't know when it was gonna stop.

The final scene was this neighborhood of cartoony 2D houses made of thick, round, rubber looking tubes. They were soft and squishy looking. There were families in the houses and grey metal doors underneath each one. I called this place Book Land because it reminded me of a children's book, where everything is gentle and pure and bright. I talked to the dad of the first house and he told his wife about how I wasn’t able to get through because I had to pee too much, but my door was open a little bit. I asked him if he could see me and he said no, he had never seen me even though he knew about me before because the door is open sometimes. There was a close-up of a cartoon purple kid, who looked like from a child’s drawing, but made of the round tubes. She was smiling and looked happy. I was able to open the door enough to get my hand through, it was all purple and blobby and made of tubes like everything else. It stretched across all the houses and I felt like I was doing some kind of educational lesson about sharing “my kind” with the people of this world.

After I came out of it I had to piss really, really bad, so I rushed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, I’m not sure if I just drank too much water while trying to smoke or what, but it was way more intense than usual for me. In the bathroom I was still pretty in it because I kept thinking about Book Land like it was a real place, and I wasn’t sure if me using the bathroom was real or just a particularly normal/realistic part of the trip.

I went back to my smoking spot to go in one last time. I knew I was reaching my limit, though, so I didn’t want to go overboard. Very shortly after smoking it, I got up to pee, I don’t even think I had to at this point, I think I was just unconsciously repeating something I’d done several times before. I kept thinking about Book Land and I also felt like I was in a weird cycle and that everyday life was just a weird cycle and getting up to pee was a part of it. I could see repeating rainbow fractals on the carpet as I walked to the bathroom and I was super happy about it and thought it was totally normal. I remember when I was in the bathroom I kept trying to talk to myself, but it was pretty much only mumbling and partial words that came out.

When I was done I sat down but got up again right after to look at the carpet, because I could see this 3D simple three-lobed snowflake like pattern repeated on the carpet wherever I looked. I kept moving around to see it at different angles and it looked totally, convincingly 3D no matter where I looked. I loved this to no end and just kept looking at the patterns for several minutes. I thought that I should put my glasses on to see the fractals better, but when I did they simply disappeared. At one point an advertisement came on since the video with the music I was listening to had ended, and I became really angry and paused it, saying “NO!” really loudly. I thought to myself that “the children in Book Land cannot be exposed to corporate propaganda  like advertisements. The children in Book Land can only be exposed to pure information.”

After that, I admired the carpet patterns a bit more, then I wanted to go outside. As I went to go outside, I kept looking at the floor the whole time, searching for more patterns, and when the flooring switched from carpet to a flat, wood patterned floor the fractals disappeared. So I was a little annoyed at this and continued making my way outside. I saw one of the cats and thought she was cute, but she didn’t have any fractals on her so I wasn’t super interested in that moment. Then I saw a clover leaf and said “Yes!! There it is!! That’s it right there!!” and sat down on the step to admire this leaf, which really did resemble the three-lobed vision from the start of my adventure, and it looked like the patterns I saw on the carpet as well. I sat there looking at the leaf and looking around, thinking to myself as the salvia wore off more and more.

Over the next couple hours I sat down, thinking about my trip and how intense everything was. I felt really good and at that point I knew exactly why people said that salvia was weird as hell. I kept thinking about the visuals, the feelings, and about Book Land. I hastily wrote some notes down on my computer, which I referred to when writing this, as despite the typos and weird wording, it had the most raw translation of my experience that I could get. In all honesty, I felt pretty accomplished for trying something new and not shrimping out over smoking for the first time, or shying away from how daunting salvia can seem. I knew what I was getting into before I started and I wasn’t taken by surprise at any point.

I know I’m going to try it again at some point, but I’m definitely not going to rush my way into it and push myself too far too fast. I have a huge amount of respect for this drug and the last thing I want to do is screw myself over by getting cocky.

[onyourzeus]

• the answer | psj

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: the answer pairing: park sungjin (of day6) & you genre: FLUFF, non-idol!au words: 2.7k

author’s note: requested by this anon for a pregnant s/o headcanon with sungjin. 

truthfully, this prompt is very new to me and at first, i thought i wouldn’t be able to write something. but i think i tried? i hope it is still enjoyable! (i have been binging sungjin compilation vids recently... i am in deep)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

sungjin is the most animated husband to a pregnant partner you’ve ever seen

and you have a handful of your friends who have gone through the “journey”

way before you did, so seeing the way their significant others react 

to the baby bumps and sudden emotional breakdowns during double dates 

it’s quite a show, really. they’re either so stunned, so careful due to their partner being more “fragile” than normal 

and others who look calm and collected, seeming to have read every book on pregnancy and child bearing they can get from the local library 

and of course, their partner admires the dedication and earnest reactions they all have towards this new beginning for the both of them: a life, growing inside their belly. how exciting

(and terrifying. absolutely terrifying)

so when you finally used one (that turned out to be five, just to be sure) pregnancy test you kept hidden in one of the bathroom cabinets

the rush of emotions start falling out: disbelief, pure bubbling joy, adrenaline rush of excitement, and then a few heavy pounds of anxiety

“baby you’re taking too long in the…” you hear sungjin’s concerned voice coming closer to you, and it trails off when the two of you meet eyes for the first time that night

that you realize you’re pregnant

“how many did you take?” is his first question, tone void of anything that you’re suddenly scared he didn’t want this yet 

“five,” you reply quietly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while holding onto the tests strips

“should you take one more just in case?” he asks again, eyes wide and mouth hanging way too open for your liking

whining to him you say, “we might as well go to my doctor to make sure at this point because i think five is overkill already.”

a pregnant pause

you’re getting just a tiny bit annoyed at sungjin’s non-response at this point. he just looks like a fish out of water, and if you just didn’t find out you’re pregnant and are currently registering your own emotions, you’d have slapped him silly right there

but that’s just how sungjin reacts, especially with how important this all is to the trajectory of your shared life

“come here,” he tells you, arms spread out. face still nonchalant, but you swear you heard a hint of joy in that tone

you give in, though, because it’s sungjin and he’s suddenly getting teary eyed and you don’t want him to wait any longer—

“what do you think?” you whisper against his ear, folding into his embrace as he tightens his grip around your waist. the doubts that filled your mind about him not wanting this for any reason disappeared right when his warmth embraced you

“i think you’re gonna be the best parent ever,” he says but the way he’s squeezing you so hard causes you to audibly squirm

he lets go in a flash, apologizing back and forth 

“sungjin it’s okay!!” you laugh, tears of joy welling up in your eyes because sungjin is already panicking about hurting the baby in some form due to him hugging you too much “i think the baby will be fine for now!!”

“let’s go,” he states, his hands holding onto yours and his eyes determined 

“to where?” you laugh incredulously. sungjin’s switching of emotions in two seconds flat is hilarious to you, but you humor him for a moment

“to the doctor, so we know you’re healthy and the baby is healthy and what else we need to prepare for so that you can—”

it’s 9pm

ok it’s time to shut him up now

kissing his lips softly, you rest your forehead against his and the two of you share the peaceful silence inside your bathroom, in your own house, where your family soon will bloom

“too soon, sungjin,” you remark, smiling as you feel him blush inches away from you

he nods briefly, taking his time to kiss both of your cheeks and you indulge in his genuine love and care

“i’m so happy to do this with you,” he says, “to build our family together” 

“i am too” 

“should we start planning on the nursery room?” and there he is again, back to going on overdrive it makes you the less crazy one

you calm him down and remind him that it was grocery shopping day tomorrow then you can set up the appointment for your gynecologist. it seems to bring sungjin’s excitement down

by the end of the day, all the scrambling emotions you had accumulated once learning about your pregnancy has dwindled down to the most important one you have: gratefulness for sungjin

so that was just the beginning, right 

in the following weeks that you have been confirmed to be pregnant yes, congratulations, a lot of things have changed in the household 

from your newly bought maternity clothes, to less hours spent at work, and the empty room in your house finally being given the opportunity to bring it to life 

it wasn’t only you doing the renovating, actually sungjin doesn’t want you near any tools or paint brushes at all 

he wants the baby safe as well as your physical body 

he is overreacting. you are only a month in

“you tell me the color of the walls, where the crib should be, and the paintings you want hung. i’ll do the work. deal?”

“no take backsies?” it sounds like a plan too good to be true

sungjin chuckles at your suspicion, but nods firmly

“fiiiine” 

there was definitely a change in atmosphere in your relationship, however. it suddenly became a bit more… intuitive? it boggles your mind because sungjin has always been the perfect husband for you since day 1

but each passing day, he’s becoming so much more careful, gentle, and all-knowing with you

for example the one morning that you just felt the urge to throw up everything you ate the day prior among other things

sungjin had already prepared the bathroom with extra paper towels, a glass of water to gargle with

and even brought awaiting breakfast in bed, just a few fruits maybe an oatmeal and brewed tea (just the way you like it)

he doesn’t take too much time in the bathroom when he showers (and sings loudly) before a gyne appt or just when the two of you were supposed to bond that night

this is kind of a given but grocery shopping is more of a competition than cooperation months before

who brings the most bags and gets to the car the fastest (without spilling anything) will not cook food that day 

now, sungjin doesn’t hesitate but almost force you to stand by the entrance of the place, and make you wait there until he finished putting the stuff in the car and drive where you were 

“i need exercise too, sungjin” you’d poke him on the side while on the drive home, and sungjin just half-smiles

those days he’d try and order take out instead because, well, sometimes he just doesn’t want to cook

and you’re prepared for this, at least he lets you continue your hobby of being the master chef in the kitchen

it’s a nice way to bond with the baby and your husband. as sungjin plays music in the living room through a speaker or by singing himself

you enjoy trying new healthy recipes

the baby bump is forming shape now, your clothes definitely give out a hint. it’s been a complicated ride of what to feel about it

excited, thrilled, of course, sungjin takes a moment in the morning to really look at you

and his child that you bear so beautifully, and with so much grace

the sun shines somewhat through the curtains, and sunjin wonders how you sleep so amazingly well 

his eyes never tire of tearing up with incoming thoughts of the next few months, years with you and your little boy or girl. he doesn’t even have an inch of doubt that you’re going to raise them well, and raise them kindly

on the other hand, as sungjin thumbs over your cheek, admiring your presence in front of him...

synchronized breathing

sungjin is afraid if he will not be enough for his child. there’s so many things that can go wrong in the first three years, let alone the moment they’ll come to this world

what if he gets cold feet? what if he cannot financially support the two of you anymore? what if you become disappointed at how he’s presenting himself as a good father? 

it pains sungjin to realize all of these what-ifs. with a few more minutes to spare before he has to go to another day at work, sungjin makes sure to feel the curve of your belly, and transfer over his warmth to you 

he closes his eyes, immersing himself with the beat of his heart, knowing that it’s for you and your family

if you’re lucky, you wake up to the whispers of sungjin about the many different things he loves about you, his forever partner, the future super parent of your child

resisting to open your eyes and see his embarrassed face is almost harder than not drinking coffee nowadays

but you get used to it, just barely seeing how shiny his eyes get, how relaxed his features become and how much love leaves his lips

saying your name, singing to the baby a little good morning jingle, telling you both

“i love you so much, more than you can know in this lifetime” 

and when sungjin is busy at work, half relegating tasks to his employees and the other burying down the anxiety about leaving you at home all day alone

you do your part to ease his worries, sending him cute texts throughout the day 

sometimes he even asks about the belly more than about you

“hows the baby?? can i see?? does it feel different today?? did you feel a kick? do you think it will be twins??”

(god you hope not)

“sungjin you are at work and i can hear your colleagues laughing at your excitement, quiet down!”

he’s so proud, so so proud of you. getting those texts and short calls from you while he’s away does more assurance than you think

he readied himself by asking his family members about parenting, asking his friends about their opinions, and reading so much online that he’d forget to do his share of the workload in the office

being 100% prepared is his mission, and he thinks you’re not taking it seriously. you say it comes with intuition for you because, well, you’re carrying the baby. but there’s one thing the both of you just cannot explain to each other which confuses sungjin all the more

your cravings

it was fairly normal in the beginning, maybe you wanted cheese on everything one day, and then you just had to add peanut butter on your garlic bread… okay, at least sungjin didn’t have to eat it with you

but the times that you didn’t have the ingredients you were specifically asking for, sungjin was at a loss for words

“sungjin…” you whine on the bed with him, sitting up as best as you can with the bump and pushing his shoulders so he gets up. he was lying down but had his back facing you, as he he had tried multiple times to convince you to go back to bed already

it wasn’t successful

“babe it’s too late to go out,” he’d murmur, hugging the pillow close to him as if to block out your voice. this offends you, a little over the top than normal, so you continue shaking him up

“but i neeeed it. the baby neeeeeeds it. you want the best for baby, right? anything baby wants, baby gets, right?” you say with a pout, although futile as he couldn’t see you

sungjin groans lightly, understanding that cravings aren’t even explainable on your end but there must be something in the house that can, well, emulate what your tastebuds desired— or, sorry, the baby

“we have leftover vanilla ice cream in the fridge, sweetheart, will that be okay for now? we’ll get the other flavor tomorrow morning,” sungjin calms you down, turning over to see your face soaked with fresh tears

this gets him to sit up, cuddle mode on, but you refuse

“baby, i’m sorry—”

“no i’m sorry sungjin, i just wanted to eat because i can’t sleep if i don’t but you’re upset and now i feel so lumpy and gross and—”

“hey hey no,” he scolds you softly, never liking the way he hears you call yourself such a word. his arms embrace your from behind, hands secured on your bump as he peppers you with tender kisses on the side of your face, kissing the tears away

“sungjin i don’t look cute right now,” you pout, somehow knowing what you’re saying is ridiculous to a point and irrational, but also the way you’re thinking isn’t logical right now

“that’s a lie,” sungjin tells you. “don’t ever believe that.” 

you find his hands caressing your bump, and intertwine them together. sungjin lets you breathe in and out for a minute, as he finds it the best way to help you out when emotions start to overwhelm you

no words, no distractions, just the feel of him and his security

“do you really want strawberry cheesecake ice cream right now, babe?” he finally asks as the tension from your body dissipates. you nod and crane your neck to the side just enough to meet his lips with yours

one kiss, two kisses

sungjin looks at you brightly, smiles and nods once

“okay, i’ll get it for you, you just stay here and rest. okay?” 

exhausted from the emotions but still hungry from your cravings, you follow his words. after, he tucks you back in bed, gives your bump a quick peck and goes out the door

“don’t forget the potato chips :c” you text him 5 mins later

“of course love, pickle-dill and strawberry ice cream ready for you soon ;)”

when he came back, he didn’t think to spend the next 20 minutes watching you put the potato chips as a sort of topping for your ice cream

suffice to say, it was a strange night that ended in laughs, you trying to get him to take a bite (which you succeeded), reminiscing on old times, and falling asleep with him fitting right by your side perfectly

it were these moments that you feel more and more in love with sungjin because he doesn’t just care for you

he cares with all of his being, and you make sure he knows how much he’s appreciated with the little things he does, and the big things he shows off to you

the nursery room gets done earlier than expected, and surprisingly enough sungjin let you paint a patch or two of the wall. you spend time off decorating the whole place with pictures of the two of you way back then, pictures of your child’s (favorite) uncles, paintings you have finished that embodied the love you have for your future family, everything that reminded you of home with sungjin

“you think our baby will like it?” sungjin asks you right after hes finished with the last picture frame. it was empty, undecorated, but hung right next to the crib. 

“absolutely, appa made it with love.”

“and sweat”

and he holds you right there, the fresh scent of furniture and a new beginning amidst the air

he holds you and your blossoming family in his careful, gentle hands. and you whisk yourself away in the moment and how perfect it was, how grateful you are to live this through with sungjin

a slight kick reverberates within your bump, and sungjin glances at you immediately

another bump, and the two of you slowly form the widest grins

“i guess you got your answer, sungjin.”

his answer has already been in front of him

[infinite-hearts-333]

Broken pack, Broken wolf

Sander sides, Analogical (Eventually), Logan Angst, Werewolf AU

WARNING: really bad writing, angsty, lack of sleep and starvation, homophobia, swearing, I'll add to this-

Before 

Part 7- Can you fix what’s broken?

Logan spent around 5 hours fast asleep, draped across Virgil's form. He was like a giant puppy!!! Virgil was currently sitting cross legged in Logan's den thing, writing. Logan was curled into an impossible tight ball in Virgil's lap, and somehow fitted, despite being taller than the anxious side.

Virgil everyone in a while would look down to stare at Logan, and his glances switched from soft, happy and gentle, to curious, excited and pleased. He had summoned a new notebook, a dark purple covered one with stars and a wolf on the cover and began furiously scribbling down notes and sketching pictures. His non-dominant hand remained softly stroking Logan's perked left ear. Virgil didn't notice Logan awaking, sluggishly shifting and mumbling, eyes flickering under heavy eyelids. "V...virgil?" Rumbled Logan willing his eyes to open, his long tail to uncurl from around Virgil and stretch, flicking back and forth.

"Morning sleepy head. How... how do you feel?" Virgil asked softly, quickly placing the book down to focus on Logan. "Tired.... Somehow...." Huffed Logan, slightly pouting. Virgil chuckled, brushing Logan's midnight black hair out of his eyes. "Pat made soup for you." Virgil offered, helping the other into a sitting position who made no effort to reclaim their pride, slumping against virgil, head resting on virgil's shoulder and made a low loud groan. "Im not hungyyyyyy." whined Logan.

"Lo, you're skinny as a twig, you're eating something. There's no arguing." Virgil said firmly, scooping up the container of soup that Patton had dropped off not that long ago, popping the lid off, allowing steam to rise from the beverage. Logan whined, and tried to hide away from virgil, which didn't really work, given he hid using virgil. "Do i have to?" Whined Logan, trying to hide under Virgil's arm. "Yes, now, face me I'll help you, but if you be a big baby I might spill some on you. So sit up."

Logan made a low growling noise, and pulled himself off Virgil to turn around in his lap so he could still lean against Virgil. Virgil smiled lightly, and gently nuzzled the others' hair before dipping the spoon into the soup and lifting it up to Logan's lips. Logan quietly stared at it for a bit, tilting his head a little and Virgil realised he was sniffing it. Logan made a small huff after a while and opened his mouth, teeth clicking on the metal as he closed his mouth.

Virgil found himself staring at logan's lips as they moved, his cheeks unnoticeably becoming a scarlet red. He imagined what it would be like to rub his thumb over the bottom lip, to lightly press his own lips against them, to gently bite them and roll them between his teeth. Virgil silently groaned, donking his head against the back of Logan's neck. He was a hot mess. "Virgil?" Logan's voice was a lot clearer than before, more smooth and silky unlike the thick ruffness from just waking up. "Are you alright?"

"Yep. Peachy. Just, peachy." grumbled Virgil, refocusing on feeding logan. By half way Logan began to refuse. "I'm sorry... i just can't... or i might throw it up..." Virgil softly sighed. "You're not gonna get better unless you eat more. Just... a little bit more? For me?" Logan mumbled something that Virgil didn't pick up and continued to eat the soup. Virgil smiled, pausing to lightly pet logan's ears. "Thank you." Virgil didn't comment that Logan's tail began to furiously wag.

After a few more spoonfuls, Logan leaned back tucking his head back into the nook of Virgil's neck. "No more....." he mumbled. Virgil softly smiled. "Okay, you did such a good job." Logan was right there it would be so easy to just tilt his head up and kiss him. But he didn't. He couldn't. Cause.... That would be weird, and Logan probably wouldn't like it and he would hate him, oh god what if he already hates him, should he leave??? Would Logan prefer that-

"Virgil. You're pulling your panicked face again." Logan said softly. Virgil blinked, being slapped back into reality by Logan's soft velvet-like voice. (God bless Logan, Virgil could and would listen to the werewolve's voice all day and night if he could-) Virgil had come to realise that Logan had turned back around in virgil's lap, his arms draped over Virgil's shoulders and head resting on the start of his chest. Hickity heckity Logan was much closer than before, practically an inch away. Why, god why, in the name of gay jeusus must Virgil be tormented like this?!?!

Logan softly smiled, and nuzzled Virgil's chest, his eyes closing as he mumbled some soft gibberish under his breath. Virgil took that time to calm his poor gay heart, collect himself, and then carefully begin to neatly put away the soup for later, and then lightly combed a hand through logans tail. Which- virgil will add- was wagging happily, and it was so darn cute.

"Um... hey Lo?" Virgil asked softly. "Mhm?" hummed logan, pressing his face right into virgil neck and oh god why-

"Um-" Virgil had to cough to clear his throat so it wouldn’t jump an octave. "I was wondering if it was okay if i asked you about your species? Only if you're okay with it of course, I'm just really curious!" He quickly added.

Logan was quiet for a few minutes, pondering mostly likely, but virgil panicked internally, thinking he had done something wrong or offended him.

"Sure." he mumbled, going back to snuggling into virgil. Virgil swallowed thickly, grabbing onto the book he had been using to scribble done notes on werewolves in. "Ummmmm so, is your diet the same as a humans? Or are you more carnivores?"

Logan hummed, and virgil could feel his ears flicking as he thought about it. "A little more carnivores? Like I can eat raw meat no problem.... And some plants make werewolves sick."

Virgil began furiously scribbling the notes. "Okay... okay.... Are you fixated on one spot in a territory?"

Logan snorted, as if the idea was ridiculous. "No. P.... Packs move around between seasons, so food sources are never rare."

Virgil hummed, intrigued by the knowledge. "Um... touchy subject, sorry... but how do your packs work?"

Logan winced, taking a few seconds to swallow before answering. Virgil picked up on how his tail stopped moving and that Logan's grip tightened a tad. "Well.... My pack was a bit..." he chuckled, "Peculiar. Most of us left our birth pack, were kicked out, got separated or never had one to begin with."

"Oh yeesh.... Sorry lo." Virgil winced. Nice going idiot.

"It's fine, we had each other." Logan hummed. "Well, you start off in your birth pack, which is the pack your parents are in. By your 10 blue moon you must have decided to either stay in your birth pack or leave to make or join a new one."

"And you chose to leave?" Virgil asked scribbling down the words in a glittery purple pen.

"Mhm. my birth pack Alpha was homophobic, so i left. My parents supported me and helped me pack and get organised. They were the best." It was hard to see Logan's face, but Virgil could tell he was smiling.

"F*ck homophobic Alphas." Huffed Virgil. "F*ck homophobia in general." logan snorted.

"The first i was Empero. Her birth pack was genetically changed via artificial selection for the usage of humans." Logan continued, and virgil flipped to a new page, writing down this as well. He wanted to help logan any way possible, so knowledge about his pack may help.

"She was my Alpha, and I was the Beta.'' Virgil could practically hear the fond smile in Logan's voice. "Beta?" questioned Virgil. "Second in command. So when Empero cant take charge, the pack's responsibility falls to me. After Empero, we met Hazel. Hazel is a little ball of energy I swear to Artemis- she was separated from her birth pack by a flood. Then Dusk, they were kicked out because of how they spoke and thought. And then we found Jackson. Or really, Dusk found Jackson. He was kept in captivity for the sick desire of humans. They wounded him till he lost an arm, and if he ever did escape he wouldn't be accepted by normal packs. So Empero took him in."

"Whoa...." mumbled Virgil. "Your packs' been through a lot...."

Logan let out a bitter laugh that stung virgil even though it wasn't aimed at him. "Yer... they have. They were the best pack I could have ever asked for."

There was an awkward pause. "You know Lo... it's okay to miss them." virgil said softly, putting down his book to lightly rub circles on Logans back. Logan made a soft sad noise, and his grip tightened more, and in the corner of Virgil's eye he could see Logan's ears drop, laying flat on his head. "Is it?" he asked in the softest of voices.

"Of course. They were your family. Nothing's gonna change that. It's okay to miss them." virgil said softly, noticing how Logan slightly shivered when virgil pressed on his higher back.

"Is.... am I allowed to cry?" Logan's voice was even softer, more fragile. "Of course." Virgil said immediately, giving Logan's shoulder a little squeeze with his free hand. "Oh... okay then..." Logan's voice cracked at the end.

Virgil continued to rub circles on Logan's back, muttering small 'thats it' and 'it's okay' and 'i'm here' as Logan started to cry. He was silent, no sobbing or gasping for breath, just tears streaming down his face, soaking into virgil's shoulder. "I m-miss them..." Logan whimpered.

"I know Lo...... I know..."

??????

[delimeful]

every good intention (1)

Day 8: Switched

warnings: blood, injury, talk of being stabbed

Roman paced back and forth, occasionally checking to see if anyone else was awake yet.

He knew that it would be a while- it was the witching hour, much too early for anyone else to be up- but he still distantly hoped that maybe someone would sense his distress and come down to the commons. Not enough to go wake them, of course, because a prince such as himself would never stoop to bothering someone for a rescue. 

Not even when that prince had been cursed into the form of a tiny dragon. 

He wasn’t sure if it was a curse, actually, since it had happened outside of the Imagination with no warning, which wasn’t really the Dragonwitch’s style. He’d been decidedly not-moping in his room about a particularly harsh criticism on one of Thomas’s recent videos, and the next thing he knew- poof! Not only was he transformed into a terrible beast, but one of a truly minuscule size, smaller than a house cat. 

He sat down morosely on the table, his leathery wings laying flat out behind him. What kind of prince was he, unable to solve this crisis or even access his own realm in such a state? Unable to speak, he would have to play charades with the others to get them to understand who he was. It was truly pathetic, unfitting, absolutely mortifying- 

“What the heck?”  

Surprised to hear a voice so close by when he’d heard exactly no footsteps, Roman sprung into the air and twisted at the same time to face the speaker, resulting in a clumsy motion that almost unbalanced him entirely. Curse this infernal body! 

His ears flattened against his skull as he finally focused on the one standing before him. Anxiety, his mortal enemy, looming above him at easily ten times his current size. He tried to say something cutting, and it came out as a scathing hiss, his wings flaring up to make himself seem bigger. 

“Where did you come from?” Anxiety crouched, putting himself level with the table, and tilted his head curiously. His expression was oddly open compared to normal, and Roman shuffled back a few steps, grumbling like a very upset cat. “Hey, easy, little guy. I won’t hurtcha.” 

The Dark Side held a hand out, palm-down in the manner one would greet a wary dog, and Roman snapped at it without thinking. He was so surprised to actually catch flesh between his teeth that he let go at the same time Anxiety jerked his hand back, the both of them springing apart like repelled magnets. 

Anxiety sucked a breath in through his teeth, shaking his hand lightly as though trying to get rid of the pain. Roman could see small dots of blood welling up from the puncture marks in the skin, and backed up quickly, wings still flared as he tried to figure out how to dodge the inevitable retaliation. If there was one thing he knew about Anxiety, it was that he gave as good as he got.

However, the other Side only shot him a wry look, settling back on his haunches. “No touching, huh? Alright, message received. Don’t bite anyone else though, seriously. They don’t deserve that even if they’re a bit clueless about boundaries sometimes.” He eyed Roman curiously. “You should probably leave before the resident dragon slayer gets here, either way.” 

Roman tossed his head, sticking his snout into the air defiantly. He would not be chased off by the likes of Anxiety. 

The Side in question snorted, grinning lopsidedly. “Not afraid of the big bad Roman? You’re a brave one.” He rose to his feet fluidly, ignoring Roman’s defensive hiss to amble into the kitchen. 

It took Roman only seconds to decide to pursue. Who knew what mischief or menace Anxiety could be planning if left out of his sight? He loped over the carpet until he got to the kitchen, his little claws click-click-clicking on the tiles. Anxiety glanced at him, in the process of boiling water on the stove. 

“What, are you hungry too?” 

Roman huffed dismissively in response, eyeing the edge of the countertops speculatively before crouching the way cats did to spring upwards. He managed to get his front legs onto the top of the counter, but it was slick marble and he immediately began to slip, paws scrambling for purchase. He lost his grip and braced for a painful impact with the ground, only to find himself halted mid-fall.

“Jeez, give me a heart attack why don’t you?” A familiar voice said from much too close. Roman opened his eyes, seeing exactly what he feared: Anxiety had him in his evil clutches, hands wrapped around his back and shoulders, holding him like a scaly red croissant. Getting dropped would be better than this. He thrashed, snarling and snapping, and got a mouthful of hoodie for his troubles. 

“Yeah, yeah, hang on.” Without missing a beat, Anxiety set him upright on the kitchen counter, turning back to his half-done ramen as Roman scurried back, trying to get the taste of emo out of his mouth. “You’re welcome, you little terror.” 

Roman made a sound like ‘hrraggh!’ and snapped his teeth again for good measure, tail lashing behind him.     

“You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry that you’re so bad at jumping, Your Highness.” Anxiety responded as though he’d understood Roman’s cursing, not looking up from his task. Roman nearly froze at the title, but it was clear that Anxiety still had no idea who he was. He sat back, observing. The other Side was acting… off, being so careful and almost kind. Even the blatant teasing was much less barbed than Roman was used to.   

“You escape from the Imagination?” Anxiety asked casually, and then chuckled at Roman’s startled look. “C’mon. I’m no Logan, but it wasn’t that hard to figure out. That’s the only place in the Mindscape I know with dragons.”

Roman snorted dismissively, and watched from the corner of his eye as Anxiety turned away to press a paper towel against his injured hand, wondering where this softer, more forgiving Anxiety had sprung from. It certainly wasn’t how he’d expected a villain to act. He’d envisioned being somehow recognized immediately, Anxiety lording his size advantage over him to grab him and trap him in a dog kennel without food or water, leaving him stuck there for ages so that he could torment Thomas unhindered. Or something. 

“I’m fine, y’know.” Anxiety’s voice cut into his thoughts, and he realized suddenly that he’d been staring at him as he was tending to the bite wound. “I promise I’m not going to discorporate of blood loss. Your teeth are nothing compared to Creativity’s katana.”

Roman turned his head away, embarrassed at the implication that he cared about what happened to Anxiety. He was just staring because the Dark Side kept being confusing, not because he was a damsel and certainly not an ally! That was why he wielded his sword against Anxiety in the first place!    

“Well, if you see Roman, give him a nip on the nose for me.” Anxiety said, stirring his noodles leisurely. “Or run far away, because that guy is a total maniac with a sword. My room’s the one far away from all the others if you need a place to hide.”

Roman squawked, offended on his normal self’s behalf, and Anxiety’s lips turned up again before he turned and left the room, bowl of ramen in hand. Roman stared after him, wondering exactly how much about Anxiety they weren’t seeing.

[adventuresloane]

"I told you you'd get sick", because it is such prime fluff starting material..

((So I made this way longer than originally intended and followed the prompt in the most tangential of ways. No one should be shocked at this point.))

As was her wont, Lup knocked on the front door, didn't wait for a response, and phased into the house through the two inches of wood. "Alright, I'm here to make chicken soup and accidentally scorch your petunias," she said, "and I've already...well, sorry about that."

Rather than remarking that he had planted those all of four days ago, Kravitz skipped over her greeting altogether. "You know, Lup, this is going to be your home in a few months anyway." Not to mention that she dropped by just about daily regardless. "You don't have to knock every time."

She shrugged, causing the flames that rose from her shoulders to shiver upwards before falling again. "Still gotta wait until I get my body back before I enjoy that bedroom you got picked out for me. How's Taako?" This was usually one of the first things she asked, although it was a particularly relevant question today. "That doofus had better be sleeping."

"He's trying, I think. It's hard for him, though. He says he hasn't slept in the past decade. I'm sure he's out of practice if all he does is Trance."

"Right, right," she said, then turned her black, featureless face inside her red hood back towards him. In the same tone that she'd had when she'd floated in, she continued, "Well, he's lucky he's capable of lying in a bed at all."

"Yes," Kravitz said, right before he said nothing. For a few moments that felt too long and slightly sweaty to him, he stared at Lup, and presumably she stared back, in spite of the fact that he couldn't tell where her eyes were. Her spectral form bobbed slightly up and down in the air, and flames with dark red centers licked off the char-black bones of her hands, and suddenly he was rather glad she always knocked rather than, say, floating up through the floor unannounced when she felt like it. And now the silence was decidedly awkward. He pushed aside one of several unopened cardboard boxes with his foot. "Um, it's his own fault, really. Taako's been spending all his time trying to unpack and organize the house at the same time he's getting things organized to start his school. It's no wonder he's fallen ill--"

"Language." He turned to face her when she piped up. "Just say 'got sick.' No one says 'fall ill' anymore."

He huffed.

"Hey, you were the one who asked me to correct you when you talked like an old geezer."

This was true. It was also true, he was sure, that she enjoyed chastising him for a change, when normally he was the one telling her what to do during reaper training. He moved on. "So I did what you said. The chicken's been slow-cooking for several hours now."

"And you put all the seasonings he likes under the skin like I said? You got the rosemary in there?"

"Yes."

"And the parsley?"

"Two teaspoons of dried."

"And the oregano?"

Kravitz balked and gawked at her. She only kept waiting expectantly. There was no way. He had double- and triple-checked the list she had given him in the knowledge that this had to be made perfectly. How could he have concentratedpassed over something like--?

She laughed. "I'm fucking with you. Lighten up, dude." She attempted to pat him on the shoulder as she floated past him into the kitchen. Her hand passed right through him a couple times, but eventually she  hard enough to make contact. Sometimes she spent a lot of time trying to touch corporeal things. Maybe that was how she'd burned the flowers. "Anyway, who's gonna use oregano when you've already got a buttload of rosemary in there? Come on."

But that was what he was here for today, to be her hands. According to her, there was precious little room for error when making this soup if they wanted to do it The Right Way, no leeway for her to accidentally drop in too much celery or pepper. There was precious little room for error, Kravitz reminded himself as he followed her instructions to strip the chicken meat from the bones.

"I bought a few different kinds of noodles, since I wasn't sure what was best," he said. "There's those twisty egg noodles, thin pasta, the flat ones--"

"Flat," Lup answered rather like a patient schoolteacher, "and don't break them up when you put them in the soup. He'll slurp them up one-by-one when no one's watching, but he'll never admit that. That comes later, though. The noodles cook separately, and it doesn't take long."

"Oh. Sure," he responded quietly.

"We used to make the noodles from scratch back on the ship and save them for rainy days, but store-bought's gonna have to do. Hey, do you have a pepper mill?"

"A what?"

"You know, for grinding up fresh-cracked pepper. Taako likes a lot of it."

"Oh, right. I think we do, but it might be in storage." Kravitz clumsily tried to get his nails under the papery skin of a garlic bulb, trying to peel it off. "Did he tell you he likes it fresh-ground better?"

Lup cocked her head a little. "I don't think he told me, per se. He just...well, he always used to like it that way, at least."

He nodded, stiffly. Then he continued nodding through a litany of other questions and corrections from her, about how much water he's already added and how much he needs to reduce the broth later and how to extract the flavor from the bones and how much salt was needed. There was a temptation to remark that he could, in fact, operate a stove. But he would say this for her: for someone who came across as so impulsive sometimes, she was surprisingly fastidious when it came to cooking. She knew everything about this dish. About what Taako liked about it. Given that he didn't feel hunger and as such hadn't done much in the way of cooking for hundreds of years, he had little choice but to listen to her. Although it would be nice if she could stop instructing him long enough for him to try to absorb what he was doing, so that he could remember all these details himself, for the next time Taako got sick.

He was so busy trying to keep up with her that he barely registered it when she abruptly switched to praise. "You're not half-bad, Skele-friend."

"Huh?" he responded, all dignity. "Oh, well, I'm just doing what you tell me. Or trying to."

"Yeah, well, you're doing a good job of it. Especially since you haven't taken orders from anyone less than a goddess for, what, a few centuries?"

"And you haven't made this recipe in quite some time. It's incredible how well you remember it."

She paused. "Taako's the one who always used to make it, actually," she murmured. "I'd be the helper. Unless I was the one who was sick. Then he'd do it himself. I feel like it's about time I returned the favor."

Kravitz couldn't keep from grinning at the thought. "I had a feeling he'd be a caring older brother."

"He's not my older brother. We're twins."

"Who's older, though?"

"Neither, we were born at the same time!"

"So you're the younger one."

She attempted to give him a playful shove. "Of course you'd take his side," she said in an exaggerated grumble. "I suppose you've had siblings?"

"Yes," he said quietly. He returned to stirring and said nothing else. Mercifully, she got the hint. After a moment, she materialized a white wand of sharpened bone into her hand (one of Barry's ulna's that he'd gifted to her, she'd told Kravitz once, which...said something about their relationship, alright). He watched her point it into the broth.

His side-eye must have been more obvious than he'd suspected, because she huffed when she could sight of him staring. For someone whose face was little more than a black void with an ember-like glow of red at the center, she could give quite the eye-roll. "Relax, Mr. Death Cop. It's healing magic." She stopped for a moment, apparently to judge whether she could push her luck. "Though, you know, necromancy is hardly different from the stuff clerics do every day."

"I'm no arcanologist, Lup. I just take down cultists. And you know that whether or not clerics do it doesn't matter to the Raven Queen. Whether it's Vampiric Touch or Revivify, it's still a corruption of fate."

"Alright, spare me the speech, please. I'm just saying," she said with another shrug. "I am an arcanologist, and I can tell you that it's the same kind of magical energy to heal or hurt, just flowing in different directions."

There had been an eon when he had felt that as opposed to simply knowing it, back before he'd had a scythe or a home in the Astral Plane. When he could ease his mother's headaches with a song.

"Shit," she shouted out of nowhere, as the blue flames from the gas burners shot up suddenly. Kravitz scrambled for the heat dials. "Shit, wait, doesn't everything he eat taste like Gogurt now? What if he can't even taste the soup?"

"It's okay, Lup," he responded before she could go on. "I've asked him about that. He said soup doesn't count for the curse. He'll be able to taste it."

"Oh." She sounded as though she'd let out a sigh of relief, though she lacked lungs. "Okay, I just wasn't sure. Magnus had to tell me that, you know. I wouldn't have even known Taako was cursed otherwise."

Kravitz glanced her way. "Does that bother you?"

"It's not like he has to tell me," she said quickly. Everything else came out much less enthusiastically. "It's just weird that I...don't already know, I guess. I've just--you'll want a chef's knife for that."

"Which one is--?"

"Curved blade. And it's easier if you don't move the knife back and forth. Just pass the carrot under the blade while you chop." She sighed. "Anyway, I just missed things. A lot."

Kravitz bit his lip. "Well...you still know him like no one else. You realize that, don't you? I feel like I'm playing catch-up with all the rest of you. You all had a hundred years to figure him out. And you in particular had quite a few more."

"You're not doing too bad on that front already, bud." He could have sworn he saw a smile peek out from under the hood. He didn't recall her ever calling him "bud" before. "Not from what Taako's told me, anyway."

He stopped stirring the wooden spoon through the golden fluid for awhile. "I guess it's good you'll be moving in with us before too long, huh? We can bring each other up to speed."

"Listen, this shit's gonna be done before long. Why don't you take it up to him yourself?"

Kravitz looked her way. "You sure? It's your soup. You don't want to come up with me?"

"I'll see him plenty later. I'm sure I will."

Minutes later, he was knocking on the door of Taako's bedroom--their shared bedroom, now, with a new king-sized bed and mattress. There were a few instances of throat-clearing before Kravitz heard a croak of "Come in."

He pushed through the door, steaming bowl in both hands. "Hey, darling, have you slept at all?"

"Can't sleep at the best of times, babe." Taako followed up the answer with a snort. "This cold's some bullshit."

He chuckled. "I told you you'd get sick if you kept working like you've been."

"Can it, Bone-Hands McGee." He sat up and struggled to sniff some air through his stuffed nose. "Hey, is that--?"

"Lup helped." He lifted his shoulders in a way that he hoped would come across as self-effacing, as if the soup in his hands didn't smell like absolute heaven.

"That so?" He wiped his nose with a tissue, though not before Kravitz saw the blush creep into his warm cheeks. He saw that blush a lot, and just at the moment that the two of them met eyes. Each time was a gift just for him, whether Taako meant to give it to him or not. "Let's give it a whirl then."

Kravitz sat next to him on the bed and watched the whole while as Taako held the bowl under his nose, let the steam waft up into his sinuses, tipped his head back to show his smooth neck and closed his eyes and drank the broth slowly. Then he licked his lips abruptly and said, "Not bad for someone who considers fancy wine to be an entire meal. Hey, get out of my bed of contagion. You're the one who's gonna get sick next."

He chuckled and ran a hand through Taako's already pillow-ruffled hair. "That's the nice thing about being dead already, sweetheart. I can't really get sick." To prove the point, he kissed his cheek.

He kept doing it, in fact, as he and Taako sat together and as the soup was slowly consumed. He hummed softly, then sung more so. And a few times, when he touched his lips to his boyfriend's skin, he tried to dredge up the kind of magic that he hadn't hadn't used for centuries, for the majority of his life. Not since he'd been alive. It felt far different from the kind he used to electrocute or grapple a necromantic cultist, and at first it felt like trying to run water through a pipe that hadn't seen a drop in decades. But he felt the warmth of the magic like he felt the vibration of his vocal chords, energy coming from deep inside of him, from nothing. Taako seemed to breath more easily as the Healing Word took effect.

It was after the bowl had been sitting empty for awhile that Kravitz felt Taako's breathing slow next to him and take on the rhythm not of meditation, but of sleep.

[vintage-story-time]

Step-Father's Sins by Unknown

Chapter 3

Melinda Madison — more commonly known as Mindy — was the oldest of the girls, and was growing up to look just like her mother.

Her breasts were large and her hair was long and black. Her eyes were large and had the same playful twinkle in them.

Melinda had a reputation with the boys of Rushdale as a good sport. She had not been a virgin in some time.

Melinda always thought that the stuff she heard about staying chaste until she found Mr. Right was pure bullshit.

She knew that her desires were just as strong as the guys, and she saw no reason why everyone couldn't have a good time.

In order to tease boys, she would have to tease herself as well, and that always seemed stupid to Mindy.

She was seeing a number of guys that spring, but her favorite date was a boy named MacIntyre Symms.

She was out with MacIntyre that night and she knew that she was going to get some steamy sex in before the evening was through.

MacIntyre was the quarterback on the Rushdale High School football team and the pitcher on the baseball team.

Along with being the school's sports hero, Mindy thought that he was the handsomest boy in the whole town.

She had taken some teasing about moving to Caledonia, since the two schools had always been bitter rivals.

MacIntyre had picked up Mindy in his green Pinto hatchback earlier, and they had gone straight to the local lover's lane to park.

The spot was called — appropriately enough — Sex Hill.

The hill was so high that one could see the lights from Rochester on the horizon to the north.

MacIntyre was tall, blonde and had deep blue eyes that made Mindy's insides feel as if they were turning to ginger-ale.

"It's warm night," MacIntyre said.

"Do you have a blanket?"

"Uh huh."

"Good, let's fuck outside under the stars."

MacIntyre loved the idea and got out of the car.

The AM radio was blasting out rock and roll music.

MacIntyre and Melinda had been out a number of times before so he wasn't worried about whether or not he would score.

Melinda wanted all the guys to know that she was "easy."

She had heard that boys didn't like to go out with girls who got around, but her experience had shown the exact opposite to be true.

Ever since she had started being an active sexual animal she had found that her popularity had increased a lot.

She knew that MacIntyre Symms — for example — never went out with a girl unless he was sure of getting his rocks off.

Melinda was smart enough to know that teenage boys were a horny lot and they quickly wearied of prick teases who gave them blue balls and made them walk home with a limp.

MacIntyre went to the back of his car and pulled out a blanket so he could spread it out in the grass next to the car on the plateau atop Sex Hill.

Melinda thought that the spring when it was starting to get warm was the best time to fuck beneath the stars.

She knew that once the summer came and the nights got hot, the bugs would make it uncomfortable to be outside.

"Why don't you take off your clothes," MacIntyre said. "I'm dying to see those fabulous tits of yours."

Melinda could feel a blush of pride make her face turn hot as the blonde jock complimented her large firm breasts.

"I'll get naked if you will," Melinda said, tilting her head a little to one side, almond-shaped dark brown eyes twinkling with her naughty urges.

She cocked her hips to one side, feeling her nipples pressing against the front of her blouse.

She never wore a bra, her tits lifting a separating more than adequately on their own, so one could always tell when her silver-dollar sized nipples were growing into erections from her hominess.

Like her mother's, Melinda's nipples pointed slightly upward, and grew to twice their normal size when she was feeling sexually excited.

"It's a deal," MacIntyre said.

She untucked her blouse and began to unbutton from the top.

MacIntyre licked his lips with the tip of his tongue to moisten them as he waited to see those fantastic tits in the blue moonlight.

Melinda could feel an ache growing in her pussy and she had a great desire to touch herself between the legs.

She finished unbuttoning her blouse and pulled it open so the handsome blonde teenage boy could see them.

They both thought that it was a perfect night for fucking.

Sex Hill was a very beautiful place — perfect for passion.

On this night there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

The moon was full and shone bright upon the young lovers.

MacIntyre could already feel his balls swelling and aching as if filled with impatient insects.

His scrotal sack felt filled to the brim with come.

"I feel like I've got a hair-trigger tonight," MacIntyre said.

He pulled his Tee-shirt up over his head and threw it onto the hood of the green Pinto hatchback.

"Why don't I give you a blow job first so you will be able to keep it up longer when you fuck me," Melinda suggested.

MacIntyre thought that he was going to cream right in his jeans when he heard the little black haired girl say those words.

He wondered why all of the girls in the world couldn't understand boys as well as Melinda. Girls like her were sadly few and far between. She loved to give pleasure as much as she loved to receive it.

Melinda didn't believe in playing cat and mouse games with her body like most of the teenage girls in Rushdale, and that was just fine with MacIntyre.

He knew that her attitude toward sex was a sign of maturity.

He was glad that he was with her that night. He couldn't think of any other girl he would have rather fucked.

"Sounds great!" MacIntyre exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I thought you would like that idea," Melinda said, reaching down to unbutton the top of her jeans as she kicked off her shoes.

Melinda's fingernails were long like her mother's, but she never wore polish on them — a matter of taste.

MacIntyre reached down to pull off his sneakers.

His cock was fully engorged inside the crotch of his pants.

He shivered as he thought of the girl putting her hot mouth on his prick.

Melinda did not feel like a martyr or anything like that when she sucked a guy's cock until he came.

She liked to suck dick. She liked the way a prick felt on her mouth, and had even learned to take a prick in her throat.

She always swallowed a guy's come rather than spit it out, not only because she knew it felt better for the guy but because she simply loved the flavor of a guy's fuck cream as it pumped down her gullet toward her belly.

Melinda could feel her pussy swelling and getting wet.

She knew that her pussy would be more than ready for his prick when it came time for her to violate her fuck hole. She could feel her clitoris swelling and pushing out from under its pink fleshy sheath, quivering at the tip of her slit.

She pulled off her pants and stood on the blanket, clutching at the cloth with her wiggling toes.

The boy pulled off his own pants and his cock came springing out from his loins, sticking way out in front of him at attention.

"Your cock looks delicious," Melinda said sweetly.

She puckered her lips and drew in cool air — producing a low whistling noise of feminine appreciation.

"Taste it," MacIntyre said, moving to the blanket.

He was a foot taller than her making her look even tinier.

Melinda dropped to her knees in front of him so that her face was at crotch. level.

The entire length of his healthy young cock was bobbing up and down and he put his hands on his hips.

He moved his feet a little. more than shoulder width apart on the blanket and bent at the knees so he was standing with his hips out in front of the rest of his body, throwing back his shoulders, tilting his chin upward and arching his back sharply. The little girl placed her fingertips on the base of his scrotal sack and lifted his heavy balls.

He moaned and shuddered at the intimate contact as the little girl began to kiss lightly at the insides of his muscular thighs.

Melinda's hands were tiny so that she could not clutch his entire scrotum at the same time no matter how far apart she spread her fingers.

She started down by his knees and kissed her way upward, getting ever closer to his swollen testicles.

She parted her full sensuous lips and allowed the tip of her tongue to protrude so she could lick the wrinkled sack.

MacIntyre's pubic hair was just as light as the hair on his head, which made the darkness of his engorged prick more apparent.

She placed the tip of her tongue on the wrinkled sack and began to flick it back and forth rapidly.

She made her tiny licks as gentle as she could, knowing that his hypersensitivity was greatly amplifying the sensations she caused.

The muscles in his thick thighs tensed and he bent a little more at the knees as she lapped happily at his balls.

She got her tongue under the sack so she could lick at the patch of skin between his balls and his asshole.

"Oh yeah, baby. Feels so good," MacIntyre said, closing his eyes and throwing back his head so that he was facing the cloudless night sky.

She switched to the flat part of her tongue and licked at the dangling wrinkled sack until it was wet and shiny from her spilled spittle.

She bobbed his balls up and down on her fingertips with her palm turned upward toward the full moon.

She looked as if she were trying to determine how much his glands of manhood weighed as she did this.

Melinda could see that there were little short and curly blonde hairs growing directly out of the sack.

She got one of those hairs between the thumb and forefinger on her right hand and gave it a gentle tug.

"Suck my balls, Mindy, God, it's not going to take much to make me come. I swear!" MacIntyre screamed.

She opened her mouth far.

She relaxed her lips and made her mouth cottony.

She knew she would have to be careful while sucking his balls.

She knew how easily she could hurt the boy if she sucked too hard.

She got his right testicle between her lips and sucked slowly and steadily, drawing in her cheeks.

She kept her tongue busy and flicked the tip across the nut even as she sucked on it, and the boy let out several deep moans of pleasure.

She repeated the process with the other ball and she could tell by the way he was breathing and fussing that he needed some attention on his prick.

The little teenage black haired girl could feel her cunt juice spilling out of her twat as she placed her fingertips on the underside of his cock and pushed it upward until the tip was pinned against his belly several inches above his navel.

There were veins running thick and blue along the underside of his rod, all the way from the base to the glans.

She loved the way his cock throbbed against her fingertips as she massaged his cock up and down gingerly.

The little girl stopped sucking his nuts and placed her tongue tip at the base of his dong on the underside.

She flicked the tip back and forth — fast and light as before — and straightened her back as her mouth worked upward toward the purple tip.

"God, you do this good. Where did you get that mouth?" MacIntyre said, his voice a little shaky from his passion.

She knew that MacIntyre's cock was a lot thicker than most guy's cocks, and she would have to open her mouth as far as she could get it in order to fit the purple head between her stretched lips.

She used the flat part of her tongue to lick his cock shaft as if it were an all-day sucker, and the boy was trembling furiously, begging for her throat with the little whimpering noises he was making.

She allowed his cock head to come away from his belly so she could roll her tongue lazily over it.

She could see in the blue moonlight that the piss hole at the tip of his prick was opening and closing like a tiny mouth.

Melinda used the very tip of her tongue, which the concentrated on keeping as pointy as possible, to playfully lick at the piss hole.

"SUCK ME!" MacIntyre called out.

He was desperate.

He was begging.

He needed to come so bad he could taste it.

He placed his hands on top of her head as she lowered his cock head to her hungry hot mouth.

Melinda concentrated on relaxing the muscles in her jaw.

She opened her mouth as far as she could, so that the corners of her lips were pulled taut.

She felt like she was saying, "AHHH!" while sitting in the dentist's chair.

She plunged forward with her head, moving her right hand to the base of his pole where she gripped his snugly.

She squeezed his cock rhythmically to simulate his natural throbbing.

The boy was making loud whimpering noises. He could tell that she would only have to suck him for a matter of seconds before he would blow his top.

She thrust forward with her head, feeling MacIntyre's strong fingers move to the base of her skull.

His cock was so thick that her fingers barely made it all the way around.

She moved her left hand to his wet balls and clutched him there securely.

She wrapped her lips around the ring of scar tissue at the tip of his cock and began to suck noisily.

She was going to suck his come right out of his balls as her smooth dark cheeks hollowed from the vacuum she created inside her oral cavity.

She used the tip of her tongue to lick at the tip as she concentrated on relaxing the muscles in her throat.

She wanted him to stick the entire length of his phallus into her mouth and thus deep into her throat.

She knew that it would end up being more like him fucking her face than her giving him a blow job.

But that was okay. Melinda had known for a long time that she was the kind of girl who liked to get fucked in all three of her sex holes.

Although Melinda did not know it, she was one of the few high school girls in the area who liked to get fucked in the asshole, a fact which did a great deal to help her popularity with the local boys.

Melinda offered variety as well as satisfaction to the boys she dated.

MacIntyre pressed forward with his hips, tensing the muscles in his ass cheeks, holding her firmly at the back of her head.

When Melinda first began offering her throat to boys it hurt like hell and made her gag and cry.

But she had learned to use her throat muscles to give pleasure, and had learned to force her own pain into the back of her mind so that she hardly noticed it.

The boy could feel the little girl's stretched open lips pushing toward the base of his large cock.

At the same time he was pressing the tip of his cock deeper into her throat where the muscles squeezed and tugged him.

She used her tongue to caress him as much as she could considering it was pressed against the bottom of her mouth by the girth of his rod.

The little girl took the whole prick inside her mouth and made a muffled grunting noise as MacIntyre began to fuck in and out.

Her eyes watered a little, but not enough for the tears to fall down onto her smooth dark cheeks.

She moved her knees back on the blanket so the could straighten her throat and make the face fuck more comfortable for both of them.

The boy eased his prick in and out about - five times when all of his muscles tensed and Melinda knew she was about to be fed a hot meal.

She jerked back with her head so that only the tip of his prick was inside her mouth at the point of orgasm.

She made a fist around the base of his prick and pumped up and down on the rod to enhance the intensity of his climax.

She continued to squeeze his balls and all of a sudden her mouth was filled with his steamy cream.

She puffed out her dark cheeks and began to swallow as hard as she could in a vain attempt to keep all of the juice inside her mouth.

But the initial blast of man come was enormous and she could feel the goo oozing from the corners of her mouth.

The thick white semen rolled down onto her chin to cool and some dripped off and fell onto the wrist that clutched his balls.

She loved the taste of come. It was refreshing. It was salty and fishy and a little bitter. It reminded her of the beach when the tide was out.

She could feel the thick fuck creaming rolling down her hot throat with the texture of raw egg whites.

She could feel a warm spot forming in the pit of her stomach where MacIntyre's come was gathering in a ball of contentment.

"SUCK IT DOWN! DRINK MY COME!"

MacIntyre screamed just before he howled at the full moon as if he were about to sprout hair all over his body and turn into a werewolf.

Melinda had read that a guy's come was almost one-hundred percent protein and was actually very good for little girls like herself-to drink.

She knew that there were a lot of girls who refused to drink down come because they thought it was disgusting.

Some didn't like the taste and some thought it was humiliating and degrading to be fed by a boy in that manner.

Melinda couldn't help but think those girls were fools.

She could feel herself getting healthier as she sucked down his load.

After the initial blast of spunk, the come was not as plentiful, and Melinda had no trouble keeping it all inside her mouth.

She sucked his cock head, squeezed his balls, and pumped the shaft of his prick until his come was through.

All of his muscles relaxed and she could feel her jaw close a little as his cock head lost some of its thickness. She could tell that it would only be seconds before the force of gravity had an effect on his cock head.

She slowly pulled her mouth away from his prick, stopping when her upper lip was an inch away from his piss hole.

The little girl could see that there was a string of come connecting her lip and his hole, making a bridge.

She pulled back with her neck and shoulders a little more until that string broke in the center.

Half fell onto his deflating cock head and the other half fell onto her upper tooth.

She pumped his prick a couple of times and saw a watery bead of post-orgasmic juice form at the little hole.

Melinda licked this away with a single swipe of her tongue.

She wanted all of his come to be in her belly where it belonged.

She could see that there was a thin film of semen covering his glans and she used the flat part of her tongue to lick this away also.

By the time the was done licking him the only thing making his cock wet was the saliva from her tongue.

She released her grip on his balls and his cock and looked up at him with a happy smile crossing her face.

"Did that feel good?" she asked — but she already knew the answer to the question.

"Oh, babycakes, you are the best," MacIntyre said, running his fingers through her thick black hair.

She rose to her feet and got up on her toes, tilting her chin upward, so they could kiss passionately.

MacIntyre could see that there was some of his come on her chin.

He licked her face clean, and this — naturally —- turned into a wet, sloppy tongue-kiss.

[kittybellestark]

Hi I’m having sad boi hours so I thought I’d write Peter going thru it too. Idk man

Trigger warning: thoughts of suicide

Peter was having a really good day. A great day even. Today was going perfectly, even better than expected.

First he woke up before his alarm. And he felt fully refreshed. So he made breakfast for himself and May (cereal, but with fruit on top, that he cut himself). And then on the way to school he found $50 just laying there. There was no one around when he tried to find the person who lost the money. Flash was also sick today, so that meant a torment free day, which was just exciting, and the lunch lady even gave him an extra meatball!!

Everything was going great. Overall a super good day. Until his heart twisted and his stomach dropped and Peter felt empty. He was two seconds away from crying and the world felt heavy. For no good reason. Peter kept a smile on his face, and laughed at all the appropriate times, but he was tired. Emotionally exhausted.

And there was still so much more day.

He was supposed to go to the lab and work with Mr. Stark. Today was also a patrol day, he’d already finished all his homework.

But Peter couldn’t do it.

Peter needed to go home. And lay in bed. Sad boi hours have hit him. And they’ve hit really hard on what should be a great day.

The world was out for him. That had to be the only explaination for the sudden turn of emotions.

So Peter texted Tony.

Hey not feeling right today ,,, gonna go home instead sorry. :( see you Friday instead.

Tony sent a thumbs up, and Peter was glad that his absence wouldn’t affect his mentor any. But it just felt like another stab through the heart.

At the end of the day when Peter was leaving Midtown, head phones on, and hood over his head, choosing to wait until everyone else cleared out before leaving, he was surprised to see Happy making his way to him.

“Did Tony not tell you that I’m going home?” Peter asked instead of greeting the man like usual.

“Well, I’m already here, so I’ll take you home then.”

“I don’t want to bother you any, Happy. I’m sure you got better things going on in your life then picking up some kid from school.”

Happy looked Peter over, surprised by the words out of his mouth. Peter -while overly apologetic- loves to chat Happy’s ears off. It was a red flag for sure if the kid is already feeling like a bother.

“A thank you will suffice next time.” Happy responded with a snort and an eye roll, trying to get a reaction out of the kid infront of him.

“Oh, thanks.” Peter’s voice was flat and void of any emotion, which was opposite of the smile he held on his face.

Happy walked to the car, and Peter followed behind, getting into the backseat. Once Happy settled into the drivers seat, he looked into the review, starting the car, but making no effort of driving.

“What, suddenly you’re too good to sit in the front seat?” Happy tried again.

“Sorry, I can sit up there if you want, you just normally say that I’m supposed to be in the back. Figured I’d save you the breath today.”

Peter didn’t make any moves to go switch seats so Happy decided to drive anyways. It was weird that Peter was sitting in the back, he never sat in the back unless Tony was also in the car.

“You okay, Pete?” Happy finally asked.

Peter’s eyes filled with tears, needing to be blinked back. Peter sat there for a moment before deciding on an answer. He was lucky happy didn’t see his watery eye.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, just not feeling too well I guess.”

Happy nodded, deciding that to be the end of the conversation.

Once they reached Peter’s apartment, the car had barely stopped before Peter was getting out, with a whispered thanks.

Every step up the stairs, Peter’s body felt heavier and heavier. His lungs felt tights and his heart hurt so badly. Thinking was hard, like the thoughts were stuck trying to move through sludge. Existence was too much. The world is heavy on his shoulders and all Peter wants to do is go to sleep and never wake up. He’s tired, tired, tired, tired. And living hurts.

As Peter unlocks the door to the apartment, he remembers that May is working until 3am, and that he’s alone. Again. He’s so alone. And that thought hurts just as much as the thought of being with people. 

Why can’t he just exist in the same way other people do?

Peter drops his bag at the front door, kicking off his shoes. He should probably eat something. Peter knows that he should definitely eat something. But that sounds so exhausting. How can he make food and then chew food and swallow food when he just wants the world to swallow him whole? Even water, drinking water just sounds like so much work. His whole body is heavy and he’s tired and so fucking sad. Peter wants to cry, he feels like he should cry but that is so exhausting he can’t even manage that.

He’s lucky he makes it to his room. He’s lucky he had enough energy to strip out of his own clothing. He’s lucky he’s able to put on his comfiest pjs. He’s lucky he didn’t crumble when he first walked into an empty apartment.

Peter makes it to his bed before his legs give out. He’s only half on the bed, but it’s enough for now.

It feels like everything under his skin is itchy and wrong, begging to be soothed. Peter’s brain won’t shut off, but won’t hold a thought either. Everything is hazy and the world only exists in blurs. Everything felt twisted and heavy and stabbed. Peter could feel his heart in his throat, could feel as if someone was choking him. Existing hurts.

Peter becomes aware of the world again some hours later, the blurry haziness now only a little fuzzy. He rubs the tears he didn’t realize he cried off his cheeks. He’s still in the same position and everything feels like too much, but there’s someone in the kitchen.

He should probably investigate. He wonders if the person will kill him. If he makes it look like enough of a struggle it won’t look like giving up, will it? Peter shakes his head to get the thoughts out. He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t want to live right now. There’s a difference.

Opening his bedroom door and shuffling out to the kitchen, blankets all wrapped around himself, he finds Tony. Tony is singing softly to himself and he cooks in Peter’s kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked. Even to himself, his voice sounds detached, like it doesn’t belong to him.

“Happy was worried about you. So I thought I’d come make some chicken noodle soup for you. Chicken Noodle soup makes everyone feel better, it’s a law. But if that doesn’t help any I can make my famous hot cocoa.” Tony smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His heart heart seeing the state Peter was in.

“Oh.” Peter turned back around, planning on going back to his bed.

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not going back to your room. I’m much more interesting than anything that could possibly be in there. Let’s go, chop, chop. You’re going to help me cut these veggies.”

Peter stood there, looking at Tony like he’s insane, before turning back around and making his way to the kitchen, sitting down at the breakfast bar, where there was a small cutting station already set up. He continued to stare at Tony, who gestured for Peter to start chopping.

“The chicken noodle soup and the hot cocoa we’re going to make later and very important family recipes from the Carbonelle side. They’ve been passed down a few generations, and when you’re older, I’ll pass them down to you. Whenever I was having a bad day, Mom would always bring me down to the kitchen and have me help cut all the vegetables for the soup. So I’m doing that with you now.”

“Mr Stark. No offense but if it’s family recipes you should keep them in the family. I’m just the intern, you should be saving that for when you have kids.”

Tony stopped what he was doing, seeing how Peter was focused on the work infront of him. His face was red, and there were tried tear tracks down his face. He had big dark bags under his eyes, and every movement made looked like it too all the energy out of him. Peter looked exhausted in a way no kid should ever look.

“Peter, kid. You are family to me. Sure you aren’t biologically my kid or anything, but I care about so much it hurts. Maybe I’ll have kids of my own one day, or maybe I won’t but you’re always going to be my kid too. You get the fun family recipes and inheritance if I die. I’m going to share these traditions with you because you’re family and I love you, kid, even if I don’t say it a lot, I want you to know it.”

Peter’s face crumpled in on itself, and he dropped the knife on the counter. Peter sucked in a breath trying to stop himself from the inevitable. Tears started racing down his cheeks as he sobbed right there in the kitchen in front of his mentor. In front of his father-figure.

The world crashed down on the one thing that was holding Peter together. It sucker punched him in the gut and stole his breath away. Everything in him snapped and fell apart. It hurt, and took everything in Peter. Peter’s whole body shook and ached. His heart twisted and twisted and twisted more.

Arms wrapped around Peter, as if trying to put the pieces back into place, trying to work out the puzzle that is Peter Parker. They held on tight, and lifted Peter right out of his chair. The arms brought Peter to a chest and Peter’s head rested on a shoulder as he cried and cried and cried.

Tony started to hum, causing his chest to vibrate against Peter. He rocked back and forth, holding the teen tight to him, allowing Peter the ability to be vulnerable with him. Holding Leter close. Tony ran his finger’s through Peter’s hair hoping to bring comfort to his kid who needed it more than he’d ever admit.

Tony held his kid who needed comfort and love and someone to be vulnerable with when he felt like the world was too much.

[jootsmcgoots]

Quiet Room (AFAB Reader with GN pronouns x Risotto Nero) Hurt/Comfort, Not SFW

Okay...last one of the batch! I do hope to write more pieces in the future, but this is all I got for now folks! Hope you all enjoy what I’ve posted up, and I will resume reblogging more stuff, old and new, when the fancy/energy strikes me.

This one’s yet another hurt/comfort fic about depression because well...as we all know, times have been rough lately, and that means a lotta people’s mental health situations have varied, mine personally just going down. Way down. I’m still afloat, but I really needed something comforting and so I wrote this piece.

I went back and forth about whether I should include smut or not, and in the end I did because I was trying to go for something less like... “ooh sexy time” and more just intimate, like a soft kind of sexual intimacy.

So for all of you out there who are feeling the same way I do: keep fighting the good fight. It only ends when we’re dead ✌️

Hope y’all like this.

Rating: Explicit, Not SFW

Genre/Tags: Not SFW, bath sex but only kind of.

Word count: 3499

Summary:

Come with me as I swim into the pale, pale darkness. 

Never let go of my hand that grips yours hard. 

Hey, are you still there? 

When you're sinking, Risotto is there to pull you back up for air. 

AFAB reader, gender-neutral pronouns.

You were no stranger to the weights and burdens of the world. After all, such things were natural. In a world full of beautiful, wonderful things, it only stands to reason that painful and heavy things would exist in equal measure.

As someone who had experienced pain, you had already come to the decision that you would be someone who helped others, to help them shoulder the weight so as to not let their knees buckle, to not leave them to be crushed under their load. You were a supporter, a protector, and you found strength in your kindness. You made a choice every single day, and not once did you ever regret it.

However, even the strong can be weak. No one is perfect nor invulnerable, and that includes even the strongest person in the world.

That was you today. Today, you were weak. Today, everything was far too heavy, far too difficult, far too much. It felt like no matter how much you struggled, it was a futile effort that would end in failure, no matter how many attempts you made to command your body into acting. You were practically on autopilot and taking care of yourself had been a veritable chore. It felt like all of your movements were slow and cumbersome. Every single action took far more energy, time, and effort than it should have had you not felt like your brain was full of molasses and worms.

Now it was evening, and the seconds continued to tick past as you sat slumped against your chair, eyes glazed over as you mindlessly browsed the Internet. A quick glance at the clock on the bottom right of the screen told you it was past 11PM and definitely well past your usual shower time. You let out a sigh, thick and heavy with your exhaustion despite the fact that you had barely done anything today.

You had been trying to convince yourself to finally get up and bathe for at least the past hour, and yet your body still stayed right where it was, as if you were glued to the computer chair. No matter how many times you commanded yourself to move, your body refused.

Closing your eyes tiredly, you wondered if it was even worth trying to shower. Normally, you put in an effort to take care of yourself, no matter the circumstances, yet your limbs refused to move, resigning themselves to remaining bogged down by whatever was ailing you. But then again, your hair needed washing and your skin was sticky and grimy with sweat and you were uncomfortable and…

The distant sound of the front door unlocking and shutting shook you out of your haze. One eye peeled open, looking in the direction of the sound. With a grunt, you did your best to pull yourself up to sit straight as heavy footsteps drew closer and closer to your room. The door opened with a quiet swing as Risotto stepped in. You stiffly turned your head to look in his direction.

Your greeting barely made it past your throat, your voice rather empty sounding. “Hey.”

Risotto hummed in response. In silence, red eyes studied you intently. Though you could feel his stare on you, you paid him no mind, continuing to scroll through whatever random online forum you found yourself at.

“You haven’t showered yet.” he observed.

You merely mumbled an affirmative, finding speaking to be difficult. You didn’t like it when he saw you like this, but you couldn’t find it in you to put up some façade of stability. It felt like you were up to your waist in water and your pieces were drifting in all different directions, and no matter how hard you trudged, you could barely fight against the current, let alone pull yourself back together.

Risotto hummed again, this time in consideration. It was one of those days, he supposed. He had hypothesized that that was the case. When he had passed by the kitchen, he had noted that the dishes on the dishrack seemed to be the exact same ones from this morning, except with a few additions. You must have managed to do the dishes but not put away the already clean ones. A sign that you were struggling. He had prepared himself for this to be the case when he walked into your room. Seeing you drift in and out of focus as you basically wilted away in your chair only confirmed it.

With that, his mind was made up. Sighing, he leaned down to pick you up into his arms. You made a noise at the contact and removal from your spot, but offered zero resistance, letting him hoist you up and carry you to the bathroom.

“Let’s get you washed up.”

“Nyehhh,” you whined in response, drawing out the syllable, “M’already washed up. Heh. Geddit. Heh heh heh.” Your chuckle was deadpan and flat. You felt his chest rumble with his “mm” as he continued to carry you.

Entering the bathroom, Risotto flipped the light switch on with his elbow. You groaned and instinctively shied away from the suddenly too-bright fluorescent light.  Your boyfriend walked further into the room and closed the lid of the toilet before gently setting you down to sit.

You sat there, body lax and gaze unfocused as you watched Risotto start the shower and strip down. Heaving a sigh, you followed suit, lethargically pulling your clothes off. By the time you were finally bare, the water had heated up to a suitable temperature, and Risotto led you inside of the stall.

You gave a contented sigh as you felt hot water wash over your body. Despite how it seemed, it wasn’t that you didn’t want this; you just couldn’t get up to do it. You could feel your muscles relaxing underneath the shower. You really did need this.

“Good?” Risotto asked.

You nodded, eyes lidded from the heavenly warmth of the shower. “Good.” You were beginning to zone out, when you registered Risotto’s hand and a handful of cold shampoo all over your scalp.

“Close your eyes.” he commanded, beginning to work some shampoo into a lather. You obeyed, staring into the dark, taking in all of the sensations. The gentle sound of the shower, the scent of your shampoo, the pleasant scratch and pull along your scalp and the warmth on your skin, all of these felt heightened in the dark. You shivered as you felt his nails scrape at the back of your head and along the nape of your neck.

You felt him silently guide you to where the spray was strongest, and you felt his hands carding through your wet hair, rinsing out all of the suds. When he was done, you raised your head and ran a hand through the front, sweeping back any hair that was stuck to your face.

You fumbled blindly for a moment, looking for the face towel you kept in the shower.

“Here.” Risotto offered, handing you the towel. After a moment more of blind groping about, you took the towel with a thankful grunt before wiping off your face. You handed it to him after you were done to let him use it while you glanced around for the bodywash.

Picking up the bottle, you squirted some into your hand and worked the soap into a lather before setting your hands along Risotto’s body. He murmured appreciatively, enjoying the feeling of your hands working his skin and muscles. You scrubbed him diligently, massaging him wherever you could reach. Soon, he took matters into his own hands for the rest.

Before you could start on yourself, a firm hold on your wrist halted you.

“Allow me.”

You looked at him as if in thought, but in the end you silently acquiesced. Without a word exchanged between the two of you, you stood there as Risotto’s large hands roamed over your body, lathering your skin with care and attention. You let out a breathy “ah” when you felt his thumbs press into the muscles of your back and shoulders, massaging them carefully. You could feel your muscles relaxing with the firm yet gentle motions, letting yourself go slack under his touch as he worked out the knots that had formed while you were hunched over your desk.

He didn’t go further than that, and set to rinsing the both of you off. The two of you shared the quietude of the bathroom, the spray of the shower on your bodies and the tile the only sound in the room.

Once Risotto deemed the both of you adequately clean, he shut off the water and gestured for you to step out. Just as you were about to towel off, you were interrupted again.

“Wait.”

You looked over your shoulder inquisitively. If your emotions weren’t so weirdly stopped up, you were sure you would have had some sort of confused look on your face. When Risotto stepped past you and over to the tub, you understood, letting out a realizing “ahh”.

“Are you sure?” you asked. You knew he didn’t always have time for something as indulgent or time-consuming as a bath; life kept him busy that way.

He returned your question with an immovable stare. “Yes.”

Though he had only uttered one word, even in your depression-hazed mind you knew he was vocalizing his choice to reassure you that he wanted this. Your heart fluttered with appreciation, and you had no more arguments.

When the bath was full enough you watched as Risotto added some bath oil to the water, the scent of lavender and sandalwood hitting your nose. Settling in, he looked up to you and wordlessly beckoned you to join him. Your steps were slow and hesitant, but soon you settled in the water and sat between his legs. A gentle hand took you and encouraged you to lean against him.

A few moments of silence passed. Now the room was entirely quiet, and the only sound was the occasional trickle of the showerhead or the stray drop or two of water from the tub’s faucet dripping into the water below, sending ripples through the tub.

Normally, you would be filling the silence or starting the conversation with any sort of pointless topic or line of discussion. At this moment though, your mind was a jumbled mess, words difficult to grasp as they seemed to fade in and out of focus, blocked up in your throat and stuck to your tongue.

Even then though, you knew that neither of you truly minded the silence, nor found it awkward or stifling. Risotto was never one to mind the quiet, and you had already fallen into a state of comfort where you could say nothing and simply be without it becoming awkward or anxiety-inducing.

You merely leaned against him more, sighing, the sound tired and empty. As if to soothe you, Risotto’s hands began roaming over your body, large, strong hands stroking you gently and reassuringly. You mumbled in response to let him know that you could feel what he was doing and enjoyed it. That was all he needed to understand what you meant, and he pressed a soft kiss to your wet hair.

His hands stopped at your hips, thumbs just rubbing your skin appreciatively and affectionately. You shivered at the sensation, letting out a low sigh. Your breath hitched when you felt his lips move from the top of your head to the side, kissing your temples tenderly. You were then hoisted up to sit on his lap, water crashing against the walls of the tub and filling the still and quiet room with sudden noise.

A small noise of confusion left your lips, and you gave him another questioning look. What you found was Risotto looking at you, black and red eyes so soft and tender, so full of affection that your heart quivered. His face had hardly changed from his default indifferent expression, yet you saw all of the subtle signs that were written all over his face, tiny details and landmarks only you understood from the emotional landscape you had come to know and love.

“Please let me take care of you.” His voice was as deep and rich as ever, yet there was a quality to it, like it was just a step below pleading to you. You nodded, finding yourself unable to launch into some stumbling tirade about how he didn’t need to or how you didn’t deserve it.

A shudder rolled down your spine as you felt one of his hands dip between your legs, his fingers delicately tracing around your mound. You hissed as the pad of his finger traced up your slit, teasing your lips. He drew circles along the flesh, making you twitch expectantly as he neared your clit yet pointedly avoided it.

Mercifully, he was only going to tease you just enough to heighten the experience for you. Soon, his fingers found purchase on your clit, and you let out a small, sharp whine at the sudden and much-desired friction. Your mind began to fog over as he slowly rubbed over your clit, stroking it lazily while his other hand worked its way up your body, out of the water and onto your breast.

You shivered at the sudden warmth on your cold chest, letting out a little gasp at the change of temperature. As his hand kneaded your breast, callused fingers playing with your nipples, more and more sounds were being coaxed from your lips as he rolled his thumb over your clit. Soon the relative silence of the bathroom was filled with noises, from Risotto’s soft, muted pants to your moans that were slowly but surely building in volume.

Your head was clouding over, and you felt as if you were sinking beneath the surface in a slow but pleasant descent. Between the heat of the bath, the steam, and the growing tension in your gut, you felt like you were lost in a fog – hot, humid, and all around you. You were sure your face was horribly red and flushed, heat practically consuming your features. Your head lolled slightly as your jaw slackened, surrendering yourself to the slow but steadily mounting pleasure, letting yourself get more and more lost. You barely registered the feeling of plush lips against your neck, kissing gently, over and over again.

“Ah!” You let out a sharp gasp of pain and lust as sharp teeth nipped at your skin, marking and bruising you. The pinpricks of pain momentarily forced your senses back to attention, and you were suddenly all too aware of the heat and tension building between your legs that was going to blow. Your pants grew desperate and hurried, wordless, meaningless whines escaping your throat as his fingers drew you closer to your end.

He gave your nipple a hard pinch and sped up his ministrations between your legs, and Risotto’s kisses took on a more fervent pace, littering the column of your neck with marks, as if he was dedicatedly trying to cover you in them.

You barely heard, much less consciously registered Risotto’s quiet pleads for you to cum, your eyes squeezing shut as euphoria coursed through your veins, shivering as the deep bass of his voice vibrated against your senses. The bolts of arousal that had been building came to a head as you finally went over the edge, shaking and spasming in Risotto’s strong, secure hold as you came with a cry, warm waves of ecstasy washing over you. He held you as you rode out your orgasm, kissing the side of your head sweetly as you came undone in his arms.

Your body lay limp against his as you came down from your high, practically melting into him as your head lolled to the side to rest against his chest. Your hair was now partially dried, now fixed in a weird arrangement, but you were far too dazed to care.

Your bleary eyes registered drops of moisture running down his chest, and only then did you notice the tears running down your face. A steady hand was raised to wipe them away.

“Sorry.” you managed to mumble out, tears continuing to roll down your cheek as you blinked. The hand on your face continued to wipe the tears away dutifully before it moved to your arm, squeezing you reassuringly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, darling.” Risotto asserted matter-of-factly. However, the hands on your arms removed themselves, and you found yourself trapped in a tight embrace as he held you close to him.

The sound of those comforting words in his voice that you loved so much stirred something in your heart. So badly did you want to believe in them, to dispel the curse born from you so you could be free. And yet you found yourself afraid, able to see the light in the distance, but your feet refused to move for fear of disappointment.

“I don’t want to make you baby me.” Your voice was so tiny and shaky that if it weren’t for the fact that you were forcing yourself to speak, you were sure the words would have died upon contact with the air. “I, I should be better than this. You already take care of a lot, and I don’t want to add to that. And anyways, I don’t…”

Your voice petered out, your vocal cords seeming to be unable or unwilling to produce the sound for those words.

I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t get to have this. Don’t waste your time on me.

A part of you refused to realize this thought and wanted to prevent it from taking form more than it already had. It was your last-ditch attempt at rebellion, the final semblance of defiance against your own mind. However, it was also because you were afraid of what would happen if you vocalized that wretched thought.

You wrapped yourself in silence, and a part of you hoped that if you shut your eyes and ears, you would finally disappear.

You felt the grip on you grow tighter, and a firm, steady voice behind you anchoring your soul here, refusing to let you go to that place.

“(Y/N).” You made a slight face. The sound of your own name sounded so strange to you. “It is a fool’s errand to think that you can take on everything by yourself when you are outmatched.”

Though the content of his words may have seemed scathing, the sting was dull, if not non-existent. You knew, and you were already well-aware of the fact; it’s just that your brain still told you otherwise, and no amount of cognitive, logical recognition of the fact seemed to dampen the belief enough.

He continued, the low rumble of his voice reverberating through you as you closed your eyes and listened. “I know you don’t do the things you do for me because you feel like you must. You should know that I feel the same way about you.”

And you did know. You knew that you lent your strength, not because of some lofty moral goal or desire to be some icon of righteousness, but because you just truly cared about the people you loved, and that you could find love in support and compassion. You were never just a benefactor but also a beneficiary in providing your support because those that loved you would respond in kind, sharing what they had with you.

“When you are by my side, please remember that I am by yours as well.”

You were tired, exhausted beyond comprehension, and the world still had countless ways to hurt and disappoint you. But he was right; you weren’t alone, and you never would be. That very fact preserved the light in your eyes and the fire in your heart.

No words were exchanged, and the room was silent once again, but from the way you tentatively sought his hand and squeezed it softly, Risotto knew you understood what he meant. He smiled and gripped your hand in turn, his fingers rearranging to lace with yours as he pressed another kiss to your head.

Even if he wasn’t much for promises in a world where nothing is guaranteed, Risotto figured the least he could do was offer you his loyalty, the most ironclad thing he had to give to you.

Though you were likely to have many more nights such as these, you knew you would find the strength to fight another day, again and again without fail. You would rise to your feet, knowing that your strength was not only your own, and with the most reliable person in the world by your side.

In the quiet of the room, surrounded by his sublime warmth, you let the reminder that you were loved and cared for seep into you, permeating your flesh and bones and settling deep into your chest.

[beatersdoitbetter]

Cottage Christmas

Ember sputtered slightly, gagging as she landed in the one fireplace she always wanted to return to no matter what. She stumbled out of the green flames, coughing on the soot she had accidentally inhaled… again. The redhead hated using the Floo network but it was the fastest way of travel when she struggled so much with Apparation. She’d Splinched herself more than once last year in practice, unable to focus completely on her destination as well as she should have been. It was still a work in progress and she was getting a bit better at it, but she still much preferred her broom. It was much harder to go longer distances as well and since she and Anne were traveling all the way from Anne’s home in the south of England to Ember’s in Ireland, the Floo network was actually a good deal safer. She stepped down off of the fireplace, ducking the stockings hung from the mantel and onto the rug her mother had tossed in front of it to wipe her boots. She reached up to rub at her eyes, only dirtying her face further, but it didn’t matter what she looked like, she was home now.

Home.

The cottage Ember had grown up in was small and cozy but the best place she knew. The main room was open, the living room and kitchen combined in a space that was warm and welcoming. The wooden floor was soft and slightly uneven in places, hinting at the house’s age while the walls were fresher, made of both wood paneling in places as well as sheet rock. Her Da had built the furniture, the pieces carefully sanded and coated with a clear varnish to keep the natural color of the wood shining through. The walls that weren’t paneled or stone were painted a gentle sage green, giving a soft backdrop to the many photos and pieces of art that had been hung up. Childhood drawings were still pinned with magnets to the fridge, the center one two handprints shaped in a heart that Ember and Eveleen had made the summer after first year. A tree, already lit with lights and topped with a delicate star stood tall in the corner to one side of the fireplace. Currently the whole place smelt of apple crisp, pine, and a vague undertone of sawdust that was easy to miss unless you were looking for it.  

Toeing off her boots, Ember moved towards the front door to hang up her coat. Anne had been right behind her, saying last goodbyes to her family and would be along in a moment and she didn’t want to be in the way in case she tumbled out of the hearth. Ember was just propping her hat on a hook when a door creaked open and shut followed by footsteps across the wooden floor. She didn’t have to look to know where her mother was, she knew how many steps it took to get from the basement door to the living room. Meghan came into view, her hair as red as Ember’s though it was definitely going gray in places. She was taller than her daughter who had taken after her grandmother height-wise. The woman carried a wicker laundry basket full of fresh smelling sheets, the gentle lavender and honeysuckle trailing after her as it always seemed to. Ember froze, staring at her.

Meghan jumped, nearly dropping the basket, not used to Ember being so quiet when she got home. Normally she popped in, stomped across the floor and shouted to alert her mother of her presence, but then, things had been strained since the summertime. Ember had been more subdued, hiding in her room for that last month, not eating or letting Meghan in no matter how many times she had tried. She’d said goodbye on the train platform without so much as a hug, a ghost of the girl she’d been before. Meghan’s heart had been broken, but she’d continued to send care packages and kept in close contact with Victoire on her daughter’s well-being. Things had begun to improve, Victoire said and Ember had finally sent her a small note, saying she was going home for part of the winter break with a new friend and that both of them would be coming home Christmas morning round lunchtime. Eveleen and Coal would also be joining them, which excited and worried Meghan at the same time. She had never met Coal, but she had seen pictures of him that Ember had brought home. The likeness was uncanny… But of course she hadn’t told Ember that. Not yet. There had never been a good time.

“Mo leanbh.” Meghan dropped the basket then, carefully of course, and marched across the room, arms reaching for her daughter. She stopped though, about three feet away. The last time she’d gone to hug Ember she’d flinched away. It was extremely difficult, not being able to touch her, to hold her like she always had when the world was too much. She wasn’t so skinny now though. There was more flesh and color to her cheeks and her eyes were getting that old twinkle back into them that Meghan was much more used to. She looked like she’d been doing better.

“Mammy.” Ember launched herself forward, nearly knocking Meghan off her feet as she hugged onto her tightly, burying her face into her mother’s hair, breathing in the scent of unconditional love and safety. She let herself melt into her mother’s arms, the wool of her sweat slightly itchy against her cheek but Ember didn’t care. She had missed her Mam so much her heart had seemed to physically ache for her. She allowed herself to be squished, held, and rocked slightly back and forth as Meghan drank her in just as much.

“That’s my girl.” Meghan finally pulled back, hands reaching up to press wild locks away from Ember’s face. “You’re absolutely filthy. Did you open your mouth in the floo again, you look like you’ve been eating soot and your hair! Did you brush it? Well I suppose the Floo would have mussed it, we’ll fix it. Perhaps a braid? Where’s your friend? Is she still coming? What did you do to your face this time? I swear every time I see you you’ve got another bandage! I don’t see why you don’t just heal them properly instead. I’ve made your favorite too, with extra sugar.”

Meghan hurried over to the kitchen, grabbing up the silver kettle from the stove and filling it with water. She placed it back down on a burner, snatched a dish towel off the oven handle and switched the water in the sink over to hot. “Come here, we’ll get you washed up while the water boils.”

“Mam...” Ember shook her head, but she was smiling as she followed after her mother. She reached for the towel but Meghan was already going at her face with it, rubbing her skin slightly raw as she washed the soot from the fireplace away. She peeled off the bandage Ember had had on her left cheek, eyed the scrape underneath and pulled out her wand. In two seconds flat, Ember’s skin flared hot and then cooled, the abrasion sealing over like it hadn’t been there to begin with.

“There. Better.” Meghan dropped the now dirty dish cloth into the sink as the flames in the fireplace lit up green. “Oh, that must be your friend now.”

“Mam, about that. Anne’s not just-”Ember paused, clamming up slightly, eyes shifting over to the fireplace. Her cheeks went pink at the sight of the tiny blond appearing among the flames. “She’s… she’s my...”

Meghan watched the way her daughter’s face got redder and redder as she glanced between her and the fireplace. The way her words got stuck in her throat, how she looked down at her feet and reached for the key hanging around her neck. It clicked quickly for Meghan, able to read her daughter quite well.  Meghan smiled, remembering how David had told her Ember, still so little at the time, had asked him if she could be a man so she could marry a pretty lady. He’d told her she didn’t have to be a man to do that, so she’d resolved to be a knight instead and a whole bunch of other things as all small children do. Meghan had thought that maybe it would be Eveleen, with the way Ember’s face flushed around her when they’d been about thirteen, but that has since passed. “Aye, Emmi. I understand.”

“It’s okay?” Ember bit her lower lip, looking up from her feet. Meghan nodded, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

“Best go make sure she hasn’t gotten soot in her mouth too. Though I suppose it’d make snogging you easier if she did.”

“Mam!”

[teamred]

a hard night’s sleep

summary: lately, peter parker can’t sleep because all he thinks about is you. when you have to crash at his place for a night and share a bed with him, it doesn’t make his sleeping dilemma any better.  pairing: peter parker x reader warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing word count: 2.1k words notes: prompt “There’s only one blanket.” for @onlytomholland​ and @peekaboo-parker​‘s writing challenge! thank you for letting me participate! :) || combined with the prompt: You’re staying over, take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, yes i am yes i am yes i am yes i am no you’re not yes i am FINE WE’LL BOTH TAKE THE BED, happy!!?? (from happylilprompts)

gif posted by andthwip

Peter Parker used to sleep easily. School, saving the city, and extracurriculars always tired him out at the end of each day. Every night, his bed would welcome him with open arms and he’d fall face flat into his pillow, waking up energized once again in the morning.

But when the teacher assigned you to be his chemistry lab partner, his nights started to grow longer.

Then when you started to hang out with him, Ned, and Michelle outside of class, the nights became endless.

After his nightly escapades, he’d stare at his bedroom ceiling, ruffling his dark chestnut hair and wonder why it was so hard to sleep nowadays. He’d recount the occurrences throughout his day, but his thoughts always circled back to you, thinking what it’d be like to lace his fingers with yours. Walk arm-in-arm with you down Midtown High’s halls. Nudge his nose into your shoulder. Kiss your soft cheeks.

And, as always, he’d smack himself with his pillow.

Peter still couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t sleep at night like he used to.

“Hey, Peter?”

In the iconic red and blue get-up, swinging from building to building on his way back home, Peter picked up your call via Karen, his trusty AI built within his suit.

“Hey, what’s up?” he panted.  

“You sound out of breath. Am I calling at a bad time?”

“No!” Peter practically screamed into his mask. “No, I was just running—that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. So, my parents are out of town for tonight and with all the recent break-ins in my building, I was wondering if I can stay with you for the night? Since you’re the closest one to me?” You asked Peter while curling your hair around your finger. “I mean, I’d ask Michelle, but she lives across town.”

Astounded, Peter fell mid-air, forgetting to shoot his webs keep him afloat. A moment later, he realized what was happening.

“Fuck!” He gasped, followed by a sharp thwip sound echoing through your end. Peter sighed in relief.

“Are you okay?! Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” The hero squeaked, shaking his head at himself. “No, I just hit myself on something. I’d love it—I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you came over.”

After he landed on top of a building, Peter rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.

“May isn’t home tonight, so I’m not sure if that makes you uncomfortable or not. I mean, not that I want to make you uncomfortable; I want to make sure you’re comfortable! I’m just saying that she isn’t home.” His hand moved from his neck to the front of his forehead, slapping it in the process.

Your bubbly laughter filled Peter’s ears. “That’s fine with me. You know I’m always comfortable with you, Peter.” His cheeks burned against the fabric of his mask. “I’ll be over in 15 minutes. Is that okay?”

New York’s friendly neighborhood hero noticed the sun setting in front of him, causing him to stop in his tracks. His head whipped around, realizing he had been going the opposite direction from home the entire time since you called.

“Make it 30? If that’s okay?”

“Sounds good! Thanks for letting me stay with you. I’ll see you in a bit.”

After you hung up, Peter huffed as he headed in the right direction.

“God, you’re so stupid, Peter,” he uttered to himself.

“I thought that went well,” Karen suddenly chimed in.

Peter thanked Karen and swung across the city, wasting no time to get back home.

A knock fell upon Peter’s apartment door and you waited patiently. You glanced down at the time on your phone and came ten minutes later than expected, knowing your friend had a habit of being late. Several loud, rummaging sounds later, a disheveled Peter putting on a loose grey sweater greeted you.

“Hey,” he beamed with a side smile.

Noting his chest heaving more than usual, you asked, “Just got home from your run?”

With widened eyes, he replied, “Uh… yeah!” He leaned against the frame of the front door with crossed arms before running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I just got home. You look nice.”

Glancing down at yourself, you didn’t think you looked any different than your usual self in your jeans, t-shirt, and with your backpack on. Nevertheless, his words made you smile like no tomorrow. “Thanks, Peter,” you said while biting your lip.

Staring into each other’s eyes, it took a moment for Peter to remember why you were there in the first place. He shook his head from his daze and welcomed you to come in.

You stepped into Peter’s apartment and kicked off your shoes. Looking around, you still mentally photographed images of his place because you’ve only been to Peter’s place a few times before.  

“Thanks again for letting me stay over.” You adjusted your backpack, releasing one of the straps off your shoulder. “So, where will I be sleeping?”

Quickly responding, Peter offered you his bed, while he insisted to stay on the living room couch. Shaking your head fervently, you exclaimed, “No, I can take the couch!”

“No, seriously. I can take the couch.” With his thumbs in his front jean pockets, Peter rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “My bed’s way comfier.”

“Well, that’s more of a reason for me to take the couch than you, Peter,” you commented as you made your way towards the couch, but in a blink of an eye, he stood in between you and the couch.

“No, you’re my guest—let me take the couch!”

You pouted and argued, “I’ll take the couch!”

Peter turned you around by your shoulders, having your back face him, and began to push you towards his room; your socks slid against the floor effortlessly. You tried your best to fight against the force, leaning back to create more difficulty, but your best friend was a lot stronger than he looked. “No!”

“Yes!” You retorted, still trying to stop Peter from pushing you towards his room.  

“No!”

Grunting and not wanting to give up the fight, you crossed your arms and stomped on the floor. Peter stopped pushing you and gave in.  

“Fine, we can share the bed!” One second later, Peter registered what he said. He immediately followed-up, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. I can also sleep on the floor if anything.”

Content with the outcome, you willingly made your way to his bedroom with him following behind. “No one’s sleeping on the floor, tonight, Peter.”  

Kneeling down beside your backpack, you began to unpack some of your items. “And, like I said before, I’m always comfortable with you. As long as you’re okay with sharing the bed, then I’m okay too.”

When you looked up at Peter behind you, he was like a deer in the headlights. Nodding in agreement, he watched you get up and make your way to the bathroom with your toiletries in hand. Once you were out of sight, he leaned the back of his head against his bedroom wall and exhaled, frustrated that his heart palpitated harder than when he was normally with you.    

After ordering pizza for dinner and getting ready for bed, the two of you stood in front of Peter’s full-sized bed. He mentally thanked himself that he disposed his twin-sized bed three months ago.

“Sorry,” he mentioned while watching you get into the bed, positioning yourself on the inside of the bed next to the wall. “There’s only one blanket.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, sitting up on the bed as you adjusted the blanket and pillow for yourself. “Guess we’ll have to share,” you faced the boy twiddling his fingers. Half-jokingly, you added, “Don’t hog it, please. I get cold in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Peter lowly whispered to himself before turning off the light’s wall switch.

Carefully getting into bed, the boy kept himself near the edge of his bed. Both of you said your good nights to each other. After a few minutes, he glanced over to you huddled, leaning on side, and facing the wall. He turned his focus back to the ceiling like he normally did at night, except this time, he was stiff as a log. He already had a hard time sleeping nowadays; you being in the bed tonight did not help his problem at all.

Moments later, he figured you were already asleep when he heard your heart slowing down and some faint snoring. For the next few hours, Peter continued to stay wide awake. He kept on glancing at his phone’s clock every now and then, closing his eyes, and tried his best to lull himself to sleep. Despite the fact there weren’t any emergency alerts from his phone, he still considered going out to doing his nightly rounds around the city to tire himself out. But if you were to wake up in the middle of the night, he didn’t want to leave his favorite girl alone.  

1:48am glowed against Peter’s face before the hairs on his forearm stood up, feeling something was wrong. Your heart rate was suddenly spiking and he heard you mumbling in your sleep.

“Peter,” you groaned with closed eyes, prior to turning around to face the anxious boy. You began to shiver and frown intensely—something Peter’s never seen from you before.

“I like you. Why won’t you like me back?”  

He froze. Peter figured you were dreaming, but did he hear you correctly? On top of that, were you speaking words of truth, or simply saying things from a dream state?

Unsure of what to do, the concerned boy placed a hand on your shoulder and rubbed it tenderly. All of a sudden, you burst into tears, still not awake, and Peter immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body into his. He began to soothe you and pet your head in the crook of his chest, telling you that it was going to be okay. Eventually, you woke up and realized you were crying in Peter’s arms.

“Hey,” he called out your name in a hush tone, looking down at you in his arms. “You all right?”

Still shaking, you managed to answer, “I-I just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

You looked into Peter’s eyes, recalling what occurred in your dream, yet unaware you were talking in your sleep and that Peter had heard your confession. In your dream, you confessed to Peter. Unfortunately, the Peter in your dream ignored you and didn’t reply. You knew it was only a dream, but you believed it was a sign that maybe you should finally confess to Peter what you’ve been feeling all this time.   

“Peter?” You whispered against his face, your minty breath the equivalent of a gust of wind. He was trying his best to focus on you. However, it didn’t help that all he could think about was how your hair smelled fruity and sweet, like strawberries and peaches. God, he could drown in your scent forever.

“Yeah?” The tips of your noses touched. You placed a hand on his beating chest, then soon grabbed a handful of his grey sweater. Eagerly, you pulled your crush into you, and gently pressed your lips against his.

His heart bursted at the seams, the fire in his heart flaring and oozing in each movement of the kiss. All the times he wondered what it’d be like to kiss you were hitting him at 130 miles an hour and he didn’t want to stop this beautiful incident. Peter’s hands were still on your shoulders, holding onto you safely, feeling all the excitement overflowing in your veins too.  

The question on your mind had to be asked, so you forced yourself to pull away and blurted:

“Do you like me?”

At first, Peter didn’t respond, still in shock over everything that was happening, so you continued, “As more than a friend?”

He continued to stare blankly at you, but then gasped when the lightbulb moment happened—you were the reason he couldn’t sleep at night. 

Although Peter was aware that he liked you, he never realized it was why he couldn’t sleep at night. 

“Of course,” he nodded excitedly with a shy laugh. “Do you like me?”

You nodded in response and had to pinch yourself to make sure that this wasn’t still a dream. Both of you smiled brightly in the darkness of Peter’s bedroom; you pulled him in again for another kiss. This time, the cognizant boy gained the courage to cup your face with his palms; the gentle pressure of the kiss juxtaposed his affectionate grip on you, not wanting to let you go.     

Many kisses and little conversations followed and you two eventually passed out right before sunrise.

Albeit short, Peter hadn’t had such a good, peaceful sleep in a while.

In retrospect, he never minded staying up all those nights. Nights filled with you made him feel alive, maybe even more than saving the city.

And he looked forward to more nights with you, even if he lacked all the sleep and energy in the world.   

[born-of-dusk]

Komorebi or: Those Who Love Shadows

Characters: Vanitas, Arika (OC)

Summary: The New Replica Program aims to give some of the former Seekers of Darkness a new lease on life, a chance to atone and be their own selves separate from their fate bound by the late Master Xehanort. Vanitas has a hard time adjusting to life without a purpose, and it’s up to one tough cat lady from another world to show him the way.

Word count: ~2,800

A/N: this is literally my first fanfic ever and this happened because i really wanted this edgy boy to have a mom. you are getting redeemed damnit.

Vanitas was brooding around a shady tree in the outer gardens when a distant commotion caught his attention. Normally, he could tune out idle chatter and background noise easily but the voices he heard were just a little too familiar. He spared a passing glance from behind a flower hedge and recognized the taller guy with blue hair from their time as the Seekers of Darkness. He and the one with red hair were blathering about some nonsense with Xion and three other kids he didn’t recognize. Whatever. They looked like they were just standing around waiting for something or someone. Vanitas turned his attention back to the flickering specks of filtered sunlight that danced along his armored legs in time with the fluttering leaves above, just killing time until he had to go meet a certain strange lady. 

Arika had taken it upon herself to try and “help” him and the other former Seekers for some reason when they were given second (third?) chances at life in the form of the New Replica Program. ‘I sympathize with all who feel lost, who have been toyed with by fate, who struggle with themselves,’ she said. Whatever, lady, you can do what you want as long as I still get free food and a room to myself. Since the moment of his “birth” the boy had only known one truth: he was created to clash with his other half, forge the χ-blade, and bring about a second Keyblade War. This was his one and only purpose and failing to accomplish this goal would not be tolerated. The old coot, Xehanort, saw to establishing that quickly as well as frequently. And this whole new existence without a clear goal to chase and being around people who didn’t see him as a means to an end was...he didn’t like to think too hard about it. 

After a few minutes he got up to stretch before heading out when he heard the gaggle of friends perk up at their final missing member arriving with his arms full of that blue ice cream everyone seemed to like. It was…Ventus? Ventus was here in Radiant Garden right now? No, that wasn’t right. Same face, same sort of getup, but that wasn’t his brother there apologizing and laughing like a huge loser. It was the other one, that Roxas kid. Just seeing him was enough to sour his mood, but seeing him with his massive group of friends? That was enough to spawn an Unversed or two somewhere in the worlds in an instant. He tried to shrug it off, then he wanted to mock them or slap that stupid ice cream out of Ven-- Roxas’s hands and onto the ground. Anything to dampen that happy atmosphere, but he didn’t. Instead he tried to divert his negative thoughts elsewhere but that stupid smiling face was already burned into his mind. And then those awful thoughts went towards that slippery slope he always seemed to come back to: 

Ventus doesn’t need me. Master Xehanort isn’t around anymore so now there’s no use for me, no purpose to exist. Darkness is all I am and all I’ll ever be. A being of pure darkness in a world of light. What am I even doing here?

That caused a dull blooming pain in the back of his head that surely must’ve heralded another Unversed somewhere, and not a scrawny Flood or Scrapper either. He didn’t raise a hand to soothe the ache and instead let it run its course. That would be a sign of weakness, after all. Right about now he was supposed to be training with his…master? Caretaker? Whatever that lady was to him he still wasn’t sure. She’d offered to spar with him once or twice then to train him from the ground up in a more cohesive style. Something about sound bodies yielding sounds minds or some such drivel. This week she was supposed to help him practice parrying attacks with his keyblade after stressing the importance of defensive maneuvers in addition to the devastating offensive ones that he was more inclined towards. He scoffed at the idea at first but relented after seeing her dispel a mob of Heartless with her fancy footwork and fluid parries into slashes into a wave-clearing focused energy surge. She made it look easy so he figured he may as well add it to his repertoire, even if it did look kinda girly. Maybe it’d help him get his mind off of those troublesome thoughts.

But the rotten start had already tainted the rest of his day. First, Arika had scolded him for being late and made him do 20 laps around the training grounds as punishment. Then she had him do the usual warmup routine of muscle stretches, more laps, and a few sets of the 32-step sword form routine she pieced together for him. Of course he couldn’t blitz through it either; no, he had to do it painfully slow over and over until he did it perfectly. Once he got to the actual sparring it was all downhill. His mind was all over the place bouncing back and forth between thinking about what Ventus was up to, trying to time his parries just right, minding his stances, seething about Roxas having to exist in his general area and look just like his “brother.” His footwork was off, his distraction earned him a few well timed parries strong enough to send his training sword flying, his own attempts just slightly mistimed or lacking finesse which resulted in static blocks. All the while Arika tried to bark out advice and corrections but none of it got through that flurry of doubts and self-criticisms that was storming inside him.

“Stance steady! Stay light on your feet until the blade falls. Meet it at an angle, partial flat. Elbows in!”

Every word she uttered only irritated him further and fueled the ire burning inside. Get it together, Vanitas! Just parry a single hit already! How’d you get so weak and useless?! In his frustration he ended up reverting to his original brash and wild style unlike the more focused one he had drilled into him over weeks of grueling practice. Without even realizing it, he’d given up on the lesson entirely and just gave it his all to land a single massive hit and be done with this charade. 

Arika’s eyes widened when wisps of darkness started emanating off of him and she switched gears entirely when he charged her at full speed. Lacking enough time between blocking his blows to attempt to talk him down, she threw herself into the fight in hopes he’d soon tire himself out. Despite his raw enraged power being on par with hers, Arika’s years of experience and coolheaded approach let her deflect every sword slash and thrust Vanitas threw at her, either artfully sidestepping a blow or returning the force of it in full. At last in his rage and desperation, Vanitas resorted to his iconic overhead strike after leaving behind an afterimage. He warped into the air behind Arika, empowered his weapon with all of his dark magic, and swung down with all his might.

“Too slow!”

But the blade never met its target. Arika disappeared in a blur of violet just short of the blast and delivered a stunning barehanded strike to Vanitas’s solar plexus that sent him flying. The next thing he knew Vanitas was on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, his teacher dispelling her weapon in his peripheral vision. After catching her breath, she glanced down at her student and offered him a hand. This single gesture flooded the boy with anxiety and fear when he realized what he’d done, what he had tried to do. Wait, no! Damn it, I really messed up this time. It took everything he had not to create any more Unversed right then and make things worse for himself but that nagging voice in the back of his mind kept needling him with barbs of doubt. He knew what she was going to say but he just knew there was something more she was hiding. She only did this if…

“That’s quite enough for today. Come, let’s wind down.” It was calm and even like always but he could’ve sworn he heard some bite in the first half this time.

She’s giving up. She thinks you’re weak. No, she knows.

Ven was off in his nice little homeworld with his nice little group of friends that somehow hadn’t fallen apart in the decade they were scattered to the winds. He had friends, connections…a family. Ven didn’t need him, Xehanort didn’t, and now neither did Arika. After all that garbage about “caring” and “sympathy” she was throwing him away. Of course, he was darkness and nothing more. There’s no way she would forgive what he did. And worst of all he failed miserably, he was utterly useless. The air around him grew colder and his whole body felt numb before he reacted the only way he knew how. 

“Just stop it,” he muttered. She raised an eyebrow but stood unmoved.

“Stop what?”

“Just say what you mean and give up already! I know what you’re thinking so just say it,” he shouted, snubbing his master’s aid and slowly rising to his own two feet. The dark wisps had grown to envelop the boy almost entirely in a chilly shroud; he stared down at the inky haze that pooled around his feet and balled his fists at his sides. He let himself get lost in his pounding headache but fought to bite back the prickling tears welling in his eyes. No, anything but that. He was weak enough already.

“Give up on trying to ‘help’ me, it pisses me off! Keep your pity and let me sink back into darkness where I belong! And don’t pretend you still care after I tried to kill you because I won’t believe you! So just quit this whole act and stop trying to save me from-”

Vanitas hadn’t noticed Arika close the distance during his fuming outburst until she had stepped into his view. He shifted his ireful gaze from her feet to her face and was met with something truly bizarre. He was expecting a hateful sneer or cold sharp eyes. But instead he saw a look of concern, maybe even...sorrow? What? Suddenly he found himself wrapped up in a warm hug that caused the smoky dark aura that enveloped him to slowly but surely wane. Not having a clue how to react, Vanitas just stood there still and utterly dumbfounded.

“It’s alright, Vani. I’m not giving up on you, we’re just taking a break for the day. We can try again when you’re feeling better. I should have noticed something was troubling you earlier and for that, I am so sorry,” she said in a soft quivering voice. These strange words spoken in a kind yet sad voice made no sense to the boy. He’d failed, he’d tried to seriously hurt his master. She could’ve died. And she was apologizing to him? And she’d called him some cutesy nickname that didn’t irritate him as much as it should’ve. He balled his fists again, overwhelmed and baffled.

“W-what the hell are you talking about?! How could you have known-,” he snapped his head to face her and happened to notice that the dark aura around him was almost entirely gone. In fact, he felt significantly less frustrated and angry too all of a sudden. Like a massive weight was lifted off his chest and he could breathe again. But Vanitas realized the cost of that relief quickly, that darkness does not simply disappear. 

Arika’s smile was pained and her brow furrowed; he shifted his gaze to her false right arm made of her psionic magic. Normally a brilliant shade of violet, it had been dyed black by inky veins that snaked up the forearm and ended at her shoulder where magic met flesh. She winced as tiny errant barbs of the dark substance calcified and broke through the skin of her shoulder, he could practically feel it himself and winced in return. Arika gave Vanitas, now looking concerned himself, a dismissive gesture as the inky lines crawled up her false arm and out of her skin in short bursts only to fall to the ground and shatter or dissipate into vapor outright.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have taken your pain without asking either. Don’t worry about me, I’ve gotten the hang of tempering it through experience. It’s something my people can do,” she trailed off. Her smile fell and her eyes softened as she looked at him with an expression the boy could not describe, but it almost looked like she was feeling the same way he did just moments ago. Was this what she meant by sympathy? “You are very strong for having shouldered this pain in your heart for so long. How it must have ached...if you would let me I would help lighten the load any way I can. No one should have to suffer alone.”

Vanitas was at a loss for words; his head was a little clearer but he still felt awful about everything that had just transpired. And now he was baffled by whatever this magic trick was. Just what are you, lady? Someone who didn’t think he was weak, apparently. She even called him strong and was willing to hurt herself for his sake? But in a helping kind of way. There were plenty of questions to be asked, it’s not like he was super happy all of a sudden. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling now in his fledgling heart (other than “not bad”), he didn’t know whether more punishment was in store for him after his stunt (probably not), he didn’t know how to feel about having his emotions—though negative—siphoned away even if it made him feel better. And while he started to admit to himself that he did want her help, he wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do. But there was one nagging question he had to know the answer to right now.

“Why do you care so much about me? Even though I’m…”

“Even though you’re darkness?” she chuckled. He looked away, almost afraid to hear her answer. “Because my heart can love darkness, of course. And darkness can learn to love back.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle dryly at that answer. Now you’re just making stuff up. “That’s impossible, lady. Darkness isn’t capable of that kind of mushy junk, it’s all just hate and pain.” But then what am I feeling?

Now it was her turn to rebuke him. “Oh, but it’s true. I’m living proof of it, as is my friend Cora and countless others who came before us. We all descend from the one born from the union between pure Light and pure Dark eons ago on my world. We all have light and darkness in our hearts in varying sizes, it’s what makes us all children of twilight. When the Dark fell in love with the Light...” she trailed off serenely. The last of the barbs painlessly fell away to the winds to return to the world and the hearts of living beings. Arika placed her hand to her shoulder and began to heal her wounds shut while Vanitas scratched his head at these outlandish notions placed before him. Light and darkness joining together? And they made some kid instead of a χ-blade? 

“But how? How could darkness fall in love with light at all?”

Arika regarded his question sagely for a moment before pulling the boy into another hug which he received less awkwardly. She placed her good hand on his messy hair and gave it a ruffle, “because the Light ceased fighting with the Dark long enough to listen to him, to understand his pain, and from there a bond was formed.”

Vanitas had neither a sarcastic quip nor follow-up question at the ready, he simply hummed and reluctantly rested his head on his master’s shoulder. He hoped she didn’t notice when he leaned ever so slightly into her hand as she patted his head. Clumsily, he brought his arms up to return the hug but only barely making contact back. This was still weird and new and he didn’t want to make this totally new feeling in his chest disappear just yet. It was something heavy and light, comforting and terrifying, yet entirely warm. Is this…a connection? He tightened his grip to brace himself against the prickling of tears but gave into the urge to let them fall where they may, it was relieving somehow. Arika stroked his hair and started to hum a song from a far-off world, letting her tears shed in kind. Their tears of joy were warm like the embrace they shared in solace, like the feeling in their hearts at this very moment, like the sunshine that greeted the shadows through the trees.

[happyhealthycats]

Simcoe and Citra

These girls have been making their rounds on tumblr for a while. Mostly Citra for her endearing honk-meow. I figured it’s time to put in an update!

I will say that their origin gets a little sad. While I don’t normally cling to the “all shelter animals have a sad life” (Heimdall didn’t. Sif didn’t.) These girls absolutely had a rough start in this world. But I promise there’s a happy ending.

My husband and I bought a house and had a wonderful roommate who lived with us. She brought her cat, who got along with our cats wonderfully. When she moved out, we felt a bit of a hole in our hearts where our previous roommate cat had been. We contemplated adopting another cat. We were no longer in our apartment, and our local laws didn’t have any stipulation on the amount of cats you could keep inside (outside of serious instances where Animal Control is required, but 3 was hardly near that limit). So we thought about it.

As always, we went to get some food for Heimdall and Sif, and in the window were these two beautiful orange girls who were snuggling together as closely as possible.

We were told they were Clementine and Savannah, and they were in the store because they had almost no human interaction at 5 months old. They were found outside at 10 weeks, and their foster home kept them in a cage. Their foster had trouble handling them at all, so they just left them in the cage with their food and didn’t touch them or interact with them at all. They were only touched to get ringworm medicine (which they had a rather nasty case of), and other upper respiratory medication. So their only human interaction was stressful on them. Putting them in the store was the last ditch effort to get them used to people so they could realistically be pets and not just terrified of everyone.

In the cage, Savannah allowed us to pet her when she ate. Clementine would not approach us at all. We asked to see Savannah in their meeting room.

She hid and hissed at us the entire time. Hair on end, ears flat, completely terrified. But I saw something in her while she was in that cage where she had spent so much time. Savannah had the ability to warm up, she just needed the time and patience to help her. 

We couldn’t decide if we wanted to adopt her though. It would take a lot of work, and they would probably NEVER be comfortable with people. My husband and I knew that if we took them home, we would be the ones to feed them and give them places to hide and exist as comfortably as possible. Take them to the vet and care for them. They would never be as friendly as Heimdall or Sif. 

But the Pet Valu manager told us that they were getting out of their cute kitten phase where folks were willing to look past their issues because they were so young. They were already hard to home, but in a few weeks, they’d go back to their foster home permanently. Kept in a cage and kept away from people like feral cats.

So we asked if the girls were a bonded pair. The manager said “Well, Savannah would be okay since you have cats at home. But Clementine would probably decline.”

So without skipping a beat, my husband chimed in with, “Then we’ll take them both.”

They normally didn’t do this, but our friend let us take them home on a foster to adopt 2 week window.

At first, Clementine ran under the bed and stayed there. We made sure food, water, and a litter box was close by for them and just left them alone. Savannah stayed in the carrier, too terrified to even run out and join her sister. But eventually I moved the carrier closer, and Savannah darted under the bed and sat with her sister for HOURS.

But, they would eat and drink after a few hours. We heard them use the litter box in the night. We left them alone and just spent a lot of time in the room with them. We didn’t reach for them, or try and grab them or pet them. Everything was on their terms. As long as they were eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom, they were okay. 

In less than a week, something amazing happened. These two kittens who were so scared of people began to come out of their shells. We couldn’t hold them, but they climbed into the cat tree and made noises in order to get our attention. Savannah did it first. Clementine tried to imitate her sister, but never quite got the hang of it, (and Citra has her wonderful little honk from that).

We thought of names. We just couldn’t think of anything that fit them. But then my husband, an avid beer drinker, suggested “Citra and Simcoe”, after hop variants. Cute names for little orange girls, and it kept the “C” and “S” names from Clementine and Savannah.

With that, they were named. And obviously, they were home with us.

They had a lot of growing to do. After a trip to the vet, we found out that both girls had FHV. Citra was able to eventually shake it after an ear infection, but Simcoe remains symptomatic on and off to this day. We work with our vet to keep her symptoms in check. Sometimes it’s just her being a little sniffly. Sometimes she sneezes. Sometimes she has discharge from her eyes or nose. She’s on some vitamins to help her immune system, and we keep a humidifier for her running all the time.

So how are they now?

I’m honestly still emotional over the huge turn around these amazing girls did. I’ll give you the run down one at a time.

Citra:

Our funny little Citra bear has gotten so much better at looking for human attention. At first, she didn’t want ANY. But now, she approaches our friends for pets, even if she’s not quite sure how to do it. Since she missed that ideal socialization window, she’s a little unsure about how to seek affection. She’ll often lean her head forward in that typical “head-butt” way, but while doing that she’ll walk away. She’s still skittish when it comes to people, but she will stand on the table and honk at you until you reach your hand out and let her try and pet herself on your hand.

However, she absolutely ADORES the other cats in the house. When we finally introduced them (slowly, slowly OH so slowly) to the other cats, she immediately gravitated towards Heimdall and Sif. She became fast friends with Heimdall, while remaining absolute best friends with her sister. They sleep, play, and groom together so well. As I type this Citra is laying with both Heimdall AND Seymour on the bed. 

Citra also has an A+ blep, along with just being incredibly silly. She’s an absolute joy.

Simcoe:

Our shy little girl has become a huge snuggle bug. She sleeps with us every single night and she absolutely loves being touched and pet. She’s very shy around people who aren’t my husband or I. But I tell people who visit if they want to see Simcoe, just come into the bedroom, close the door, and sit down on the floor. Sooner or later, she’ll come over and rub up against you. She requires a gentle voice and a gentle touch, but she was so starved for affection I feel like she’s making up for it now that she knows she’s safe.

I mentioned her health, and because she’s so sick, sometimes she gets too nauseated to eat from being congested. And, as I said before, we’ve worked very hard with our vet to get Simcoe to the best weight she can be and keeping her as healthy as possible. One of her triggers for FHV is stress, and with such a skittish cat, it’s very difficult. However, living in a cage would have been infinitely worse for this wonderful girl.

Simcoe has the sweetest expressive eyes. Sometimes I just sit down and pet her for so long because I remember how happy she was when she finally let us touch her. She was so starved for attention and when she finally got it, she didn’t want it to stop (it never will).

Citra and Simcoe are still each other’s best friends. They sleep together, play together, groom each other, share their food (they have separate bowls but they will just switch back and forth). 

I’m always so proud to see how far these amazing little cats have come. Simcoe used to hiss at me when I put her food down. Citra never made noise before coming to live with us. It was worth every single long hour waiting for them to get comfortable enough to eat with me in the same room. Or being willing to walk down the hallway and go into the kitchen. Or finally rolling over and showing us their bellies.

These girls are the ones that inspired me to get my certification. 

We took a chance on them, and they were their own beautiful reward.

[diinofayce]

Shadows on the Horizon - 14

Pairing: Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: Language, angst, steamy makeouts, shower times, not quite smut | A/N: This is a sequel to my story Like a Whisper in the Night | Shadows on the Horizon Masterlist

“You could have died and it would have actually been my fault!”

Bucky was in a total state of distress. Danny had the kids tucked away in the back of the quinjet where they kept the bunks for after missions and long flights so Layne and Bucky could hash out whatever was going on with him in peace. Lucas had bombarded the sullen and moody Bucky with questions the whole drive back to the airport in Bloomington. Susanna and Layne kept them wrangled and out of his hair well enough, but they left Sue back in Minneapolis and Danny wasn’t as well versed with children so Layne could only imagine how crazy they were driving her brother.

“It’s not your fault you hit him in his bulletproof sunglasses. Who the fuck makes bulletproof sunglasses? Do you think Tony’s glasses are bulletproof?” Layne flicked the switches over her head in the copilot seat and her brows furrowed as the scanners didn’t give her the reports she was looking for. “Besides, almost dying is kind of a frequent hazard in this job field.”

“That’s the wrong one,” Bucky mumbled, coming down from his panic for a minute to reach over and flick the switch back and flip the one next to it on the right. “And it would have been my fault regardless. I should have made sure they were dead.”

Layne rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “Do you think I would have gone back in the van if I didn’t think you were watching and had my back, Buck?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Bucky growled, flicking his own set of switches as they prepared to land back at the compound. “I don’t fucking know anything anymore.”

Layne narrowed her eyes at Bucky, her lips turning down in a frown of disappointment before refocusing on the landing pad that was coming into view below them. “Why don’t you actually tell me what you’re mad about, James?”

Bucky froze and blinked a few times at the terseness in her voice and the fact that the only times she ever uses his real name outside of the bedroom is when he’s done something really stupid.

“I’m not mad, Layne. I feel confused and foggy and I don’t even know what else. I figured in both lives I could point and shoot so this shouldn’t have been a problem, but it’s different now. It’s all different now,” Bucky answered softly, dropping the wheels of the jet.

Layne pursed her lips as they landed the jet. Turning off toggles and switches and then the engines she focused on taking steadying breaths. “Maybe,” Layne started but stopped to chew on her thoughts some more.

Bucky watched her anxiously chew on her bottom lip, her eyes flicking back and forth as she sorted through the thoughts in her head.

“Maybe, if it will make you feel better, Shuri can put your head back to where it was. Maybe Steve was right and I was messing around with things I had no business in,” Layne mumbled softly as she cracked her knuckles nervously.

Bucky turned his head at the sound of small running footsteps, Danny was following close behind and Bucky reached up to flip the switch to open the ramp. Spinning in his chair he reached out and grabbed Layne’s hands, pulling her gently into his lap. She folded up easily, her butt between his legs with her knees folded up under his left arm and her head tucked under his chin resting against his right shoulder. He tangled his vibranium fingers in her curls as he held her close and tight to him.

“As weird as this sounds, I feel better than I ever have. Mentally, I mean,” Bucky responded. “I just thought that I had remembered everything I was going to and I was okay with that, but now I’ve had to process all this extra stuff and I’m trying to decide what to do about it.”

Layne tangled her fingers in the straps of Bucky’s vest, clinging to him impossibly tight her knuckles white from lack of blood circulation. “Together, then. Whatever you decide, we do it together.”

Bucky sighed and she felt him shake his head in refusal. “I don’t think I can bring you along for some of this.”

Layne pressed her hands flat against his chest and pushed herself away from him so she could look him in the eyes. The usual clear blue of them swirling with an icy chill that she had only seen in flickers in the past, but would have to get used to it being a permanent fixture in his gaze.

“We promised, James,” Layne pressed, “We promised everything together or not at all.”

Bucky drug his teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes adverting Layne’s pointed gaze. “There are things I just don’t want you to have to see. I don’t even know if anything is still even there or not. I don’t know how I’ll react when I go to these places or find whatever I hid at them. I don’t know if you’ll be safe from me.”

“Bucky,” Layne’s voice was firm and had zero room for argument. “Shut the fuck up. I’m coming with.”

With that she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Any argument that Bucky was going to come up with was lost when she nipped her teeth into his bottom lip, the soft moan he let out allowing for her tongue to slip in his mouth. His hands slid down to firmly grasp her hips and shifted her so instead of being cradled in his arms she was straddling his lap. Her hands raised to tangle in his hair, tugging at the locks softly to tilt his head back and let her kiss him deeper. He broke away for air and to let out a wanton moan as she ground her sex into his.

“Jesus, baby, we gotta hit the pause button,” Bucky begged, but planted hot and heavy kisses down from her ear to her throat despite his words.

“So I can come with you when you go?” Layne whispered huskily, dragging her nails from his scalp to the back of his neck.

“Course, doll, whatever you want,” he agreed hurriedly, his mouth on a path to her chest but suddenly his arms and lap were empty as Layne stood and straightened out her uniform.

“Great. Straighten up, soldier, we have to debrief.”

Bucky blinked a few times, his hands still in midair in front of him from when he was holding Layne in his grip, a dumb look frozen on his face. He licked his lips as he fought the lust fogging his brain. “That…that was the rudest thing you’ve ever done.”

Layne sent him a cheeky wink and giggled. “I didn’t say I didn’t have plans to finish what I started, Barnes.”

~*~

The debrief was quick and easy, which was nice because they rarely are. The children were settled across the hall from Bucky and Layne in Layne’s old apartment, Cheryl was looking to make a quick recovery and would be out to meet them by the end of the week where they would take the three children to upstate New York and introduce them to Charles Xavier. In the meantime, Layne proposed a plan to really see what her nieces and nephew were capable of so they would be more quickly placed at the Academy.

But now, back in her and Bucky’s bathroom, she peeled her skin tight suit from her body and turned on the tap for the shower. Once it was lukewarm she stepped in, lifting her face up under the water stream and letting it soak her hair and plaster it to her skin. She let out a sigh from deep in her gut, the weight that’s been sitting on her chest for the better part of the week feeling crushing.

She ignored the soft knocking on the bathroom door knowing that Bucky was going to let himself in anyway and sure enough the door clicked open.

“Room for one more?” Bucky asked and Layne nodded slightly through their frosted glass door before choking out an okay.

Bucky stuck his hand in the shower first to check the water before reaching down to turn the heat up just a little bit and then stepping in.

“Are you doing okay?” Bucky asked with concern, his hands running up his girlfriend’s back and squeezing her shoulders gently. The difference in temperature made her shudder involuntarily until the vibranium caught up from the heat of the water.

His concern made her feel guilty. She wasn’t the one anyone should be worried about right now, Bucky had literally just gone through hell and back and now here he was trying to make sure she was okay. Little fragile Layne Hardin, falling the fuck apart again. She swallowed heavily and tried to pull herself back together quickly even if she knew it was pointless with him.  

“I guess, now that everything has calmed down a little it’s just all kind of hit me,” Layne answered honestly and leaned back into his broad chest. She twists her head around and leaves a gentle kiss on the scarring of his left shoulder.

“You’re angry.” It was a statement, Bucky knew her well enough to tell when she was barely hanging onto her self control. Even back in the Twin Cities when she basically assaulted her brother it was a rare moment. She was normally very good at keeping her emotions under cloak and mask, but Bucky could feel the frustration radiating off of her like heat waves.

“There’s no point in being angry. What’s done is done and it all worked out well enough in the end,” Layne grumbled grabbing her bottle of shampoo and squirting it into her hand.

Bucky reached forward and scooped it from her open palm to massage into her scalp, Layne let out a pleased hum and another deep sigh this one allowing much of the weight to come from her chest.

“I’m sorry, if it makes a difference, I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

“It didn’t just put you in harm’s way, Buck. You had a partner. Fuck the mission, you know? I agree with you that any scientist that was involved with what happened to you to take priority, but you left Sue on her own. She looked up and you were just gone and she still had unfriendlies to take care of.”

Bucky took half a step back and tilted Layne’s head back slightly so he could rinse the soap from her hair.

“I know,” he agreed, chagrined. It hadn’t been his intention to abandon his partner and the mission. He had seen the scientist and suddenly he was back in that bank vault in DC and he was giving chase.

“And seeing that fucking chair in your night terrors is one thing, but goddammit Bucky. How are you even willing to jump back into all of this after that again?” Layne twisted in Bucky’s arms pressing her chest against his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes bored into her warm caramel ones as he searched for the unspoken question hidden beneath the spoken one. His hands fell from her hair down to her shoulders and finally splayed across her ribs right under her breasts.

“Layne,” Bucky started slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I am going to follow you where ever you’re going. You need to spend time in Minnesota, I’m there. You want to never leave the tower again? I’m fine with that. You want to quit this whole thing entirely and go back to working in a lab at some university anywhere in the world. I’m okay with that too. I don’t need anything else but you.”

Layne shook her head with a rueful smile on her face. “That’s dumb as fuck, James. I appreciate the sentiment, but you want things too and pretending that they don’t matter is just stupid. This isn’t a fairytale, or a Disney movie, this is real life and there’s two of us. We’re a partnership, yeah? And if we’re going to be a strong partnership we need to be honest with each other.

“I’m pissed you broke rank and order and left Sue to fend for herself. I’m angry because that caused you to get captured and hurt again. I was terrified, Bucky, more scared than I’ve ever been about anything in my life because I thought I was going to lose you again. But I’m frustrated and angry with myself because it should have always been a possibility on any of these missions that this could happen. I’m mad because I told Steve that he should stay behind because Natasha was coming home and I could handle this on my own and none of this would have probably happened if he had been there because that kid is glued to your fucking hip.”

Layne leaned up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to Bucky’s to stop whatever argument Bucky was about to spit out. “But it’s over now and you’re here with me and the kids are here and we’re going to figure this out. I love you so much.”

Bucky blinked the water out of his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. “I love you too, doll, I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

Layne bumped his nose with hers before capturing his lips again and kissing him deeply, a raw heat flaring behind it. When they parted to breath Layne have him a fiery look. “So, do we want to un-pause from earlier?”

Bucky growled low in his chest and slid his hands down to Layne’s waist, lifting her up and pressing her against the shower wall where she gasped at the cold towel and arched into his chest. He immediately dove to press a hard kiss to her throat but she hissed and he pulled away with guilt rising in his stomach.

Layne instantly brought her hands to his face and brought his eyes up to hers. She could see the sself-loathing and cold hatred clouding the blue of his eyes. “Hey. No, not now. Not ever.” She insisted kissing him softly to test the waters.

“But.”

“No. Shut up and love me.”

That was all it took. Bucky slammed off the water to the shower and Layne squealed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked her to the bedroom and threw her soaking wet on the bed.

[thesilverdragoon]

Empty

Despite being on the border into Coerthas nearly, the oncoming summer heat could still be felt, floating around and weighing more and more as the humidity increased little by little.

That or Ves finally WAS going out of his mind. That wouldn’t have shocked him in the slightest.

Puffy gargled loudly, almost whining, as he laid draped over the knight’s shoulder. The both of them were lying flat on the guestroom bed where he’d been staying in the meantime still. Everything was shut, everything was a little dark. Still, that brought no relief.

Maybe it was a fever instead.

“Dying...dyyiinngg….ughhh…”

“When aren’t you.”

Ves had his arm over his eyes, lying face up and flat. He hadn’t moved an inch and still it felt like he’d run a mile earlier. Leave it to a northerner to find even the slightest amount of weather to be too hot. He hated it.

“We go… we go to snow. Something cold. Frosty, chilly burrrr.”

“You know that actually involves moving right,” “UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Neither of them continued to move. Until eventually, of course, Ves flipped the pillow to the other side. But that only worked for a few seconds at best.

Puffy reabsorbed back into him and dug around, looking for another spot.

Ves lifted his head, “Hey- you know what I’ve told you about doing that.” The worm didn’t acknowledge him however, and wandered around under his coat until it bumped into his pocket, making it rattle. “HUH??!?! WHAT?!!” The knight’s ears pinned back. “Stop it-” He sat up reluctantly, opening the snap-button to his front pocket and pulling out the packet of loftbloom seeds he’d not quite forgotten about. He frowned as he turned them over a few times before sighing loudly and falling back against the mattress and pillow, closing his eyes.

He’d MEANT to surprise Evie with them when he had returned from his little excursion some days prior. But, other things came up. The whole loan thing, confronting Dacien and Caudecus in a normal setting again (that actually seemed to go somewhat well, all things considered,) getting his face torn off between all that. There weren’t any other openings after all THAT for the day.

So he said nothing.

But the longer he went, the more doubt began to creep into his head. Not produced by the worm, either. Puffy didn’t care. He just wanted to eat them. The seeds that is.

What if Evie didn’t like them? Or- or what if they didn’t grow? Or- or-or-

Another long, drawn out sigh came from him as he swung his arm back over his eyes again.

“Maybe I should forget about it. I can’t get over how nervous I am to begin with anyway.” “What??” Puffy decided to go back to the prosthetic at the knight’s side. It was slightly cooler in there, but not by much. “What???” “Nothing.” “No, NO not nothing!! You- YOU- always hide. Always. Me, I hide, but YOU, you...you HIDE.” Ves didn’t move his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Puffy growled in frustration, unable to relay whatever he wanted to say properly. “YOU HIDE!! YOU HIDE ALL TIME. BAD. NEVER SAY. YOU, HIDE.” Finally Ves looked down at him, confused more than anything. He hides?? What?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Again, arm, eyes.

Puffy screamed angrily. “STUPID!! STUPID STUPID STUPID DUMB DUMB.” He disappeared into the prosthetic immediately after, grumbling audibly.

Ves didn’t care though. Deep down, he knew what Puffy was getting at.

He hides. He never opens up. He never ‘says’. Well so what?? That was HIS problem, no one else’s. Besides, it didn’t affect the worm all that much anyway, so what did Puffy care anyhow?

Who cared if he had a wall up all the time. It wasn’t any of their business. He had every reason to. It was fine. It kept him alive.

...It kept him from potentially shooting himself in the foot, in regards to staying in the mansion currently.

Really now who would get so angry over seeds that didn’t bloom??

No, no, it was the implication of it- Evie was smart. She’d catch on- maybe she’d caught on already- maybe she was just being nice. Which was fine. Being nice was great.

But…

Puffy glared at the knight from a gap in the prosthetic. He could feel the whirl of thoughts going around. “You bad. You, BAD.” He hissed.

Ves grunted and sat up again. “And?? So what?” “Want friends. Want family, want nice things. All of them. But, you never say. Always think, everything KABOOM, doesn’t even try. You dumb. DUMB AND BAD.”

“Well if I’m so dumb and bad then maybe you ought to go elsewhere and bother somebody else for a change. I don’t care if you leave. You can leave anytime you want!” Now he was getting angry.

Puffy already was. “ALWAYS JUMP. NEVER LOOKS. ONLY JUMPS LIKE DUMB DUMB. WONDERS WHY FALL WHY SMASH?? DOESN’T THINK.”

“Now that’s absolutely RICH coming from YOU of all things. Those of a feather fly together don’t they?? Well here we are, stuck, because of YOU.” “NO! HELL!!” Puffy shot back out again, wavering back and forth like an angry cobra. “Said gonna change. Saw it, heard it. Promised. YOU PROMISED. Now, CHANGE! NOW!!” “No I don’t think I will.” “WHY!?!?!”

“I don’t feel like it.” Ves reached for his metal arm and fumbled around the connection point. Where was the release…

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? NO!” Once he’d located the release switch, he let it go. The arm went slack and disconnected, allowing him to pull it off and chuck it onto the other side of the bed, along WITH Puffy.

The worm let out a clipped shriek before retreating back into the piece and swirling around inside it in a panic. “PUT ME BACK. STUPID. YOU STUPID. OH MY TWELVE YOU ARE SO STUPID.” “Am I? I think I finally decided to just GROW a brain just now.” Ves gave one hell of an arrogant smirk as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed to stand. He wanted to go outside and be alone for a while, and now- now he could be! Finally- at long last, no worm to scream at him, nothing crawling around inside his gut, nothing in his head, reading his thoughts and reacting to them- In his excitement, he hadn’t fully realized his wobbling knees, and barreled forward once he tried to walk to the doorway.

The fall stunned him, and for a few seconds his vision began to float and blur. But what came after only caused more room for concern.

That feeling of an abyssal pit inside him- like there absolutely was nothing there- like he was some hollow shell. Sure, his organs were still going but even they started to feel a little funny. His head grew foggier and he felt like he was being sucked inward. Like a vacuum. Though, the vacuum was...IN him somewhere- it didn’t make any sense.

Puffy continued to screech in a panic before shooting out of the prosthetic, half formed, but still strong enough to start crawling across the floor and over to him.

“STUPID STUPID STUPID DOESN’T EVEN LISTEN TO ME. OR NOBODY.” The worm continued to berate him until he finally reached his companion, jumping straight at him and burrowing into the skin of his neck like a maggot.

Ves almost reeled back (despite being on the floor already) at how painful it was, and there was blood thanks to the entry point being so close to an artery, but the wound closed immediately after Puffy was done.

Suddenly, all the empty feelings disappeared. His insides stopped doing whatever it is they were doing, his head stopped swimming, everything settled down.

He was ok again. Quickly he sat up, looking around rapidly while trying to catch his breath. “What did you DO-” “SAVED YOUR STUPID LIFE. SHUT UP.” Puffy screamed at him, though it sounded muffled in his rib cage.

Ves furrowed his brows angrily and pulled his coat open slightly one handed, so that the worm could pop out of his chest and confront him. “What was all THAT? I’ve NEVER felt like that before- before YOU came along!”

“Dumb. DUMB. You have NOTHING. You, empty can. CLINK CLINK EMPTY, NOTHING INSIDE. If I go, THEN YOU ARE EMPTY. EMPTY, BYE BYE, BOOM.”

“Will you try at least MAKING a bit of SENSE?” The knight hissed back.

Puffy opened his mouth and his three tendril-tongue came shooting out, latching onto Ves’ face and digging into his eye sockets and mouth.

Naturally, with the door closed, all anyone on the outside would have heard was more screaming. But, considering that was so commonplace, it was hardly worthy of concern at this point.

__________

Immediately everything had gone dark. Well, that was because the worm had grabbed onto his eyeballs, or at least he THOUGHT that that was what happened- but his eyes were open right now.

But there was that chilling silence drilling into his head, into his ears.

That hollow, never-ending void…

He took a step- and immediately heard a splash. A small splash. The sound of his foot hitting shallow water.

“...No- oh no no no not this place again-” Ves whirled around, almost in a complete circle. “Let me OUT OF HERE!” He yelled, into the big nothing.

Rather than spend an eternity in silence however, he was answered right away.

“I keep trying to tell you… But you don’t listen.”

“How do you expect me to LISTEN when you keep DOING weird things like this?! How is this supposed to get ANYONE to listen?!” This was quite frankly terrifying him, yet again. “YOU and ANY OF THOSE CREATURES-” “Do you hear yourself?” Ves clenched his teeth, as well as his fists. “I do and I don’t CARE! I’m TIRED OF THIS! I wish I hadn’t ever found out about ANY OF THIS- any of YOU! WHATEVER you- you- FREAKS BECAME!!”

There was a pause, before a low ‘heh’ answered him. Condescendingly no less. But he heard it come from behind him directly. And as soon as he turned around, he was met with a figure. It too was solid black, just like the rest of the environment (or lack there of) around him. But, for some reason, he could somehow make it out against all that.

It wore nothing, it had no features, save for this smiling grin of gnarled teeth. It was the same height as he was.

Just the sight of it caught him off guard and startled him. Enough to take a few steps back.

“What-” “We’re doing this, again. Over and over. Just like before.” “What??” The figure began to pace like a wolf circling a lamb. “Do you want to do this again? Can you?”

“No- I-” Ves made sure to keep his eyes on it as it moved slowly. “I’ve seen you before- What ARE YOU-” “Does it matter? You don’t care. I’m just as much a part of you, as you are yourself.”

The knight sucked in a breath, squinting and shaking his head incredulously. “PUFFY?” “In part. I’m missing something. Or I was. And so were you. But we’re together now… so...”

“I don’t understand- why is it none of you can just tell me what’s what without traversing in a huge circle. Just come out and say it!” “You would know about that, wouldn’t you.”

The answers were only making him angrier. “What happened- when I disconnected you from me myself. You jumped out of my face before and somehow I didn’t experience THAT whole mess.” “You are a shell. You have nothing left in you. When I came, your aether was dwindling. And once it was gone, you were dying.

Don’t you remember?”

“I was dying because you tore my ARM OFF!”

“A small nuisance. But that was not the reason why. I saved you. And you me. Indirectly.”

“Well, then maybe you should consider leaving me and going someplace else. It wasn’t like I was BEGGING to live at the time anyway. I don’t think it’d really effect anyone if I suddenly disappeared anyway. Or, better yet- why not just turn me into one of those voidsent hm? If I have no aether. As I understand it, THEY don’t have any aether, either.” The figure slowed to a stop, the seemingly eternal grin fading into a frown.

“You are… quite strange. Devoid of aether, you may be. But, like them? No. You aren’t like them. You’re...interesting.”

Whatever this thing’s personality was, it wasn’t like Puffy’s in the slightest. Ok maybe a part of it was, but whatever this being- whoever this being was, they were intelligent. Very much so. Or at least, that was the impression he got from the whole thing.

...And it was letting him mouth off this entire time, no less.

“...You know- now that I think on it, every time I was about to say something potentially bad to one of them- you physically kept me from saying so. Why are you letting me say such things and call you names now?”

The figure stared at him.

“Well?” “...Because. Our pact, was you would change. You would not hurt them, again. We never said: you could not say these things… to me.”

For some reason or another, just saying so struck a chord in the knight somewhere. Enough to put him at a loss for words.

It was letting him say these horrible, nasty things again. It was letting him say that, to itself. But not to anyone else.

A wave of shame washed over him and his body language betrayed that. Enough that the figure smiled again. Or, grinned. It had no lips. Only the teeth.

“...But, I forgive you.” There was nothing mocking about the tone of the phrase, but it was very flat. Almost empty. “Better of you to say it to me. And to no one else. Isn’t it?”

It was right.

Ves exhaled, swallowing the lump in his throat right after. He couldn’t think of what to say next. He wasn’t sure if he even should. Say anything more that is.

So he didn’t.

Defeated, he looked down at his boots. “...Send me back.” He muttered. He didn’t want to think about all this anymore.

The figure made no response, save for lifting what looked to be a cloven hand. And just like that, the darkness vanished.

__________

The world and the guest room and everything in it came swirling back instantly. Ves could breathe, see, hear, and everything else.

Puffy was still staring at him from his chest, jutting out of his coat and squirming around grumpily.

“Dumb.” He said with an air of finality.

Ves had trouble focusing on him, instead simply nodding before swallowing again and glancing over towards his prosthetic, which had fallen off the bed.

He pushed himself up slowly and went over to it, stooping down to pick it up before almost reluctantly plugging it back into the socket in his arm. There was a sharp jolt that surged through him briefly, before disappearing all together.

Everything worked just as before. His fingers, his wrist, his hand, everything.

Nothing was out of place.

Puffy popped out of the prosthetic again after moving to it once more. “Don’t do again. Ok?”

Ves nodded shakily at him, going for the door. He had to take a walk outside- something, anything at this point.

Just as he turned the doorknob to head out into the hallway however, he muttered a, “Sorry.”

To which Puffy replied somewhat solemnly, “Better at me. Not at them again.”

He didn’t even realize he’d left the packet of seeds behind on the bed.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 4

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Older!Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the space. Full of dust and dirt, Ienzo insisted it needed a good cleaning before anything else. While Demyx swept and mopped, Ienzo came back with a small cart of books, left, and came back with more.

“For how insistent you were with the cleaning, I figured you’d be helping me,” Demyx said.

“It’s more efficient if we split our labor,” Ienzo said, but there was a hint of a smirk on his face.

Dilan and Aeleus carefully maneuvered the old piano into the space. Ienzo kept bringing books; so many books.

“I hate to break away from my work once I’ve started,” he said. “I’d rather be overcautious with materials than not.”

Demyx studied the old upright. The varnish was scratched, and the whole thing was wobbly on its wheels. He bolstered the sides with a few blocks of wood. The old keys were real ivory, but worn and discolored from their years of neglect. He pressed the first key he saw and flinched at how out of tune it was. This was going to be harder than he thought.

For hours he stood over the piano back with a pair of pliers, trying to get the thing into something resembling key. The wire inside was brittle, and he had to turn millimeter by millimeter, so as to not break any of it. Demyx expected Ienzo to run off, but instead he watched; occasionally up close, his long silver hair nearly touching the wires, occasionally in a chair, with a book open in his lap.

“You must have a very good ear,” Ienzo remarked quietly. “To tell such minute differences.”

“Well, I would hope so.” His arm was starting to cramp up, but he couldn’t switch hands because the cut was too tender to take the repetitive motion strain. It had been a long while since he’d had to let a wound heal naturally. It seemed to be taking forever. “We wouldn’t have to to all this if I just had my sitar.” He twisted the last wire into place and rolled his shoulder to try and loosen the tension in his muscles. “That’s about as good as it’s going to get.”

Ienzo touched a key experimentally. “Much better.”

“Still a bit flat, but I was afraid to pull much harder, especially on the higher notes. I doubt there’s any spare piano wire hanging around. It’s not exactly a commodity.” He played a chord. “It’s bearable, at least.”

He nodded. “Shall we get to work, then?”

His expression slipped. “Now? Don’t you want to take a break first?”

“Why? There’s still so much of the day left.”

Demyx rolled his shoulders again. “My arms kinda hurt.”

Ienzo sighed. “I could do with some lunch.”

After some sandwiches, they returned back to the study room. The books were spread in uneven piles. Ienzo frowned. “I didn’t realize I left these so… disorganized.” He started picking up books and arranging them.

Demyx sat back down at the piano. The bench creaked slightly. He started with a few basic scales, trying to remember how it felt to play piano. It felt off, wrong. He longed for the smooth steel strings of his sitar.

Ienzo raised an eyebrow. “You look uncomfortable.”

“Just trying to warm up.”

Ienzo kept shifting the books back and forth. First, he organized them by color; then alphabetically (if the letters he was mumbling meant anything); then chronologically by subject. It was making Demyx anxious. He slipped in his scales. His left hand was aching and he flexed it. “Is your wound bothering you?” Ienzo asked.

“Just a bit stiff,” he said, and forced a smile. When at last the scales were coming naturally, he turned to the yellowing text. Ienzo pulled his chair close to the piano bench.

The piece was hard to sight-read. While of course Demyx knew how to read and write music well, for him it was usually an afterthought when his pieces were finished. It was always a bit harder to get into if it were on paper. He was confident he could have played this for the first time fairly well on sitar, but he found himself stumbling again and again on easy passages. And this was just the master score; this wasn’t even reading into the section delineations. His face burned with embarrassment.

He played through the first movement sloppily and then pressed his hands between his knees.

“It’s lovely,” Ienzo commented. “But--rather sad. I wonder what it means.”

Demyx had been focusing too hard on the technical bits to notice the emotion in the song. “Could just be what was on their mind when they wrote it.”

“Perhaps. We’ll know more when I translate. Keep going. I’ll try to remember the rhythm of the sung phrases.”

He did so. The second movement was even more complicated than the first, until it seemed like every second note Demyx played was a mistake. That wasn’t even counting for botched phrasing. What kind of meter was this? He checked quickly; at least the numbering wasn’t ancient. 29/16? Fucking hell. That made no sense at all.

Third movement. Ienzo was leaning forward slightly, his head bowed, listening intently. It seemed like he wanted to hear all of it; and there was a lot of this score, hundreds of pages. There was just no way. A thin film of sweat broke out across Demyx’s body. He was used to music being relatively effortless, but this was taking all of his concentration.

Fourth, then fifth. Demyx cursed whoever had written this for their inconstant use of meter and the tricky keys and accidentals. He was halfway into the sixth movement when his left hand started to ache, then hurt; and far into the eighth when Ienzo’s stupor seemed to break and he seized Demyx’s shoulder.

“Stop. Your hand,” he said.

Demyx turned his palms over. His wound had split open and was bleeding, leaving faint reddish smears all over the keys. Ienzo grabbed one of the cleaning rags and tightened it over the first soaked bandage. With another, Demyx started cleaning at the ivory, discordant notes ringing out.

“Leave it. You probably need stitches,” Ienzo said.

“It’ll get stained if I don’t,” Demyx said. There was a weird undertone to his own voice.

“That’s all right.” Ienzo stood. “I’m going to get a first aid kit. Put pressure on it. About that much.” He squeezed Demyx’s right hand to demonstrate.

He put pressure on the injury. He realized his head was positively pounding, in time with his pulse just like his hand. He was sweaty, weak; he had no idea why. And for some reason the feeling of Ienzo squeezing his hand wouldn’t go away.

Ienzo returned quickly with a small black bag. He knelt down in front of Demyx and took the offending hand. “Bleeding seems to have stopped. I suppose i must have misjudged how deeply the wound ran the other night.”

“Even did too,” Demyx said weakly.

“That’s odd,” Ienzo said. “I usually trust his judgement with these things.” He unwrapped the bandages and dabbed on more of the stinging salve. He pulled out a curved needle and what looked like thread. “I’m sorry, this will hurt. But it won’t heal correctly otherwise.”

Demyx braced himself and shut his eyes. He tried not to flinch away when the needle bit his skin, but the pain was sharp and intense.

“Steady,” Ienzo said.

Each stitch seemed more painful than the last. He bit his lip but couldn’t stop tears from running down his face. Finally Ienzo was done, and rewrapped the wound. His hand was throbbing, and he could barely move his fingers without causing more pain.

“Nine stitches,” Ienzo said. “Rather auspicious.”

“It fucking kills.”

“I can’t see how it would be… pleasant. Nonetheless, I think you should let your wound heal before we continue.” He sat down next to Demyx. “Of course, I should like to do some translation work. If it’s all the same to you, I can translate, and you can rest. For today… i think this is enough.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said dryly.

“I am curious, though. How many instruments can you play? I shouldn’t have assumed your mastery of piano, though you are rather skilled in that regard.”

His question caught Demyx off guard. He exhaled. “Well, I mean I don’t really know. Sitar, obviously. Stringed instruments tend to come really naturally to me. I don’t have much experience with brass or woodwind, but if I looked at it for a little while, I could probably pick it up. It just seems to make sense to me. You know?”

“Fascinating,” Ienzo said. “So you’ve no formal training?”

“Not that I can remember. I mean, some one must have taught me how to read and write music.” Thinking about it was making his headache worsen.

“What else can’t you remember?” he asked. His expression had become troubled.

Demyx whistled. “Well, I mean, a lot, really. My past is… kind of blurry.”

“That’s… peculiar.” He crossed his arms. “Did you remember your past as a Nobody? The first time you were one, anyway.”

Something hot surged inside of him, and he was nearly sick. His vision started to go gray at the edges.

“Demyx?” Ienzo asked. “Are you alright?”

He crumpled and fell forward off the bench. He was conscious just long enough to see Ienzo’s shocked expression.

“...checked his blood count. Everything is normal but the sugar and iron were low. I’m sure that explains the fainting. What you consider a trigger is no doubt a coincidence.”

The headache was gone, but his skull felt weirdly warm. Someone had put him in bed, tucked the covers around him. The weight was comforting.

“I’m not so sure. He had mentioned something about lacking memory. Why is it that when I tried to prod, he had this reaction?”

“Ienzo, you know as well as I do that Demyx has a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps he just wanted some attention. Your worry is misplaced.”

“...Even, do you have all your memories?”

“Of course I do! I think I would know if that were not the case.”

“How odd. How odd…”

“His heart is not yet complete. That may have something to do with it.”

“I’m going to take a look at my notes regardless.”

“Still, this brings up the matter of our diet. I had suspected it is somewhat lacking, too high in carbs. Perhaps we can go down to the marketplace and find something more nutritious…”

The voices trailed off. Demyx sat up. He felt a bit sick to his stomach, and his first inclination was to sink back under the covers and sleep. His eyes caught the little plant on the windowsill. Some of the petals were browning at the edges. Demyx touched the soil; it was still moist from the last time it had been watered. It get getting plenty of light. What was wrong with it?

His door creaked open. Ienzo came in, carrying a glass of water. “Oh good, you’re conscious. How are you feeling?”

“...Weird,” he said. “I don’t know why that happened.”

“You’re a tad anemic. And your blood sugar was low.” He pulled two small bottles full of pills out of his coat pocket. “Even recommended you take some supplements. And I brought some mild painkillers for your hand. No doubt it’s several weeks’ of malnutrition catching up to you. I’m sure it was hard to come by good food when you were hiding.”

Demyx took one of each of the little pills. He found he was surprisingly thirsty, which was a feeling he’d had to get used to ever since he lost his powers.

Ienzo looked towards the window. “That’s a lovely illumina plant. Where did you get that?”

“Oh. Someone at the marketplace gave it to me. Aerith, from the restoration committee.”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense. They’re a good group of people. I’ve been keeping in touch with them about Sora.” He reached over and touched one of the browning petals. “You needn’t leave this in direct sunlight, you know. They grow at night.”

“Did you study botany, too?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo suddenly looked a bit pained, but in just a second he had masked the emotion with a neutral face. “Not quite. A specialty of my parents’.” He took the plant off the windowsill and placed it on top of the dresser, out of view of the window. “Can I see your stitches? I want to make sure you’re healing properly.”

Demyx offered his hand. Ienzo unwrapped the bandages and studied the wound.

“That looks much better. I should be able to remove them in a week or so. You just need to keep it covered and clean.” He began rewrapping. Demyx had never really noticed his hands before, especially since they weren’t in gloves; the fingers were long and graceful and cool against his overheated skin. When he let go, Demyx found himself again feeling the imprint of the touch like it was still there.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Ienzo shook his head. “That’s quite alright. I forget that you’re still adjusting. You should use the rest of the day to get some rest.” Not that there was much left; the sky was turning pink. “I’m going to go and see what translation work I can get done while there’s still good light. Aeleus is making stew. I’m sure he’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

Demyx watched him leave, his eyes lingering on the doorframe perhaps a moment longer than was necessary. Ienzo was completely different than Zexion. If he had passed out while helping Zexion, no doubt he would have just scowled and walked away. He surely wouldn’t have checked on him, or tried to save his houseplant, or touched him at all.

Demyx couldn’t help but wonder if he were changing too; but he knew less about himself than Ienzo ever had. Was Even right? Were his lack of memories just due to an incomplete heart? More importantly, did he want to remember?