#skipped yesterday's prompt because i had nothing

[wandaslittlebird]

Still Her Favorite

Mean!Mommy!Wanda x Puppy!G!P!Reader

After a day of misbehaving, Wanda stays home from work to punish her puppy, and her best friend Natasha decides to join.

CW: Puppy stuff (collars, ears, tails, etc.), plugs, mentions of spanking as punishment, cock shame, humiliation, teasing, safe word discussion, ignoring as punishment, illusions of cheating, jealousy, haha Natasha’s dick is bigger than yours

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Once again not the fic I promised but I’m working on it. Listening something washed over me this afternoon.

A/N: I’m going to be honest, I super don’t love this. But perfectionism is a demon that kills my ability to create, and I’d rather publish a bad fic than lose a good one to the demons.

“Now what brings a precious little puppy like this into the office today?” Natasha asked, circling Wanda’s desk to find you at her feet.

“She was being terribly naughty at home alone, yesterday. Sometimes mommy’s long hours in the office have her thinking she can get away with certain things,” Wanda explained, making no move to look at you while she was talking about you. Her ignoring you was your least favorite punishment by far. You could handle the spankings, the teasing, the humiliation, even the denial. But when mommy stopped talking to you or even looking at you, it was sheer agony.

Natasha smirked. She knew when Tony had said her best friend had requested to work from home today because she “had a new puppy that she had to take care of,” she had to come visit Wanda’s home office. And you did not disappoint.

You could’ve almost cried from embarrassment, kneeling in a dog bed at Wanda’s feet in nothing more than a pink collar and your puppy ears. There was a chain leash attached to your collar that Wanda had tucked mindlessly around her wrist. Your neglected cock was desperately hard between your legs, dribbling little bits of precum onto the fluffy fabric underneath you.

Natasha was surprised to find you weren’t wearing a tail, as that was typically one of Wanda’s staples. “No tail today, puppy?” She questioned. Unlike Wanda, she did look at you when she spoke. You wished she wouldn’t. Her green eyes sent shivers down your spine. You wanted Wanda’s attention, not hers. You didn’t answer.

“No tail today,” Wanda sighed, answering for you. She finally looked down at you with a harsh glare. “Do you wanna tell Tasha why you don’t have your tail in today, puppy?” The look she sent you cast your eyes onto the floor. It was bone chilling. When you didn’t answer, she prompted you further. “Where was your tail when I got home yesterday? Was it in your ass, where good girls keep their tails?”

“No,” you admitted shamefully, barely above a whisper.

“No it wasn’t, was it?” She scolded, returning her attention back to her work. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep eye contact. Maybe if she could see the pained look in your eye, she’d cut the punishment short and skip to the cuddles you so desperately needed.

Natasha's eyes lit up in surprise. You were typically so well behaved for Wanda. She couldn’t help but feel a spike of arousal at the thought of Wanda coming home to find you without your tail. Oh how she would’ve loved to watch that punishment. She couldn’t exactly see your ass from how you were sitting, but she was willing to bet it was covered in delicious little welts and bruises.

“You wanna show Tasha the pretty plug you’ve got in today, instead?” Wanda asked, wiggling her heel under your ass and forcing you up. Natasha stood expectantly next to Wanda as she forced you forward onto all four. You whimpered as you caught yourself on your elbows.

Natasha's suspicions were immediately confirmed when she saw your welted ass, clearly spanked raw. She wondered if Wanda had gone as far as using the cane on you last night. Oh how you would’ve cried. She felt herself growing hard at just the thought.

Wanda pressed the point of her shoe into your balls, wiggling her foot to provide friction. “Spread your ass for Tasha so she can see your pretty plug.”

You did as she asked, reaching back with both hands to better reveal the pink plug stuffed inside of you. “Mommy’s Girl” was written across the base in fancy lettering. The maneuver forced you onto your shoulders, face resting against your dog bed.

Natasha reached her hand down to touch you, stopping to look at Wanda, who nodded in approval. She pushed on the base of the plug forcing it further into your ass.

It was the biggest one Wanda had ever had you wear by a pretty wide margin. You’d cried when she put it in this morning, and the cruel sting had barely faded throughout the day. The simple sensation of Natasha’s hand was almost enough to have you in tears again.

“She’s a little sensitive, aren’t you, puppy? You’ve never had anything that big in your little ass before have you?” Wanda explained, moving her foot so the point of her shoe lightly caressed your shaft.

You shook your head into the soft fabric of the dog bed, holding back tears. The sensation of the two women’s hands on you, toying with you cruelly, was terribly overwhelming.

“Mommy’s dirtying her favorite shoes for you puppy,” Wanda smirked sadistically, nearly laughing at how pathetic you looked on the ground in front of her. She could tell the contact, after a morning of neglect, was overwhelming you. “What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy!” You cried, muffled by the plush bed your face was forced in to. “And thank you Natty for playing with my ass!”

Natasha inspected you carefully, running her hands over the raw swell of your ass. She didn’t stop when you winced and whimpered at the harsh contact she made with your sensitive skin. She leaned forward, peeking her head under you to get a better look at your cock.

She was consistently surprised by how small you were, especially in comparison to her. Even as hard as you were, your cock couldn’t have been a full 5 inches long. You weren’t terribly thick either, thinner, even in proportion, than she was. “Poor puppy,” she cooed teasingly. “I bet you can’t even please your mommy with a dick that little, can you?”

You naïvely expect Wanda might chime in on your behalf, but when she just laughed, your face burned red. You wanted her to defend you: tell Natasha that even though it was small, you had the sweetest, prettiest cock in the universe and she loved it. Sure she had to put you in a sleeve sometimes when she fucked you, but you were more than capable of getting her off. She loved your little cock, even if it was small.

But she said nothing of the sort. She simply laughed like Natty had told a silly joke.

You heard the undoing of a belt buckle behind you, and then your head was pulled back up by the leash. “Come here, honey,” Natasha instructed, motioning for you to stand up. “Let’s see how you measure up.”

You looked to Wanda, hoping she would come to your rescue, but she simply raised her eyebrows expectantly. For once, you found you didn’t want to leave your puppy bed.

You clambered to your feet, finding yourself face to face, dick to dick with Natasha Romanov. You blushed fiercely, looking down at the space between you. Where Natasha’s shaft stood proud at 9 inches, yours was a lousy 4 ½. Not to mention hers was twice as thick, ridged with strong veins up to the tip. It wasn’t so much that you were jealous of her, you just wished you hadn’t looked so puny in comparison. Maybe if you were 6 or 7 inches, this wouldn’t be such a humiliating display. Even if you just had a little more girth, her dick wouldn’t make yours look like a child’s in comparison.

Instead you stood there, eyes wide as you stared down at her, simply unable to speak. You wanted to defend yourself in some way, but what was there to defend? Her dick was superior to yours in every way. At least you were largely hairless in comparison. Then again, that just made you look more juvenile.

Natasha laughed at the stunned look on your face. “Wanda, I don’t think your sweet little puppy has ever seen a real cock before.”

Much to your chagrin, Wanda laughed too. “No, Tasha. I think it’s only ever been silicone and the pathetic little thing she’s got between her legs.”

Natasha moved to stand next to Wanda, who looked up at her, amused, from her desk chair. You watched in horror as she dropped your leash and grabbed Natasha shaft, placing a light kiss to the tip. “Don’t be rude, puppy. Tell Tasha what a pretty cock she has.”

“You-you have a very pretty cock Natty,” you stammered.

She smiled back at you condescendingly. “Thank you, puppy.”

“Now go lay down,” Wanda instructed, watching you pad over to your bed. You got back on your knees, helpless to do anything but watch the scene before you unfold.

“You truly do have quite the impressive member here,” Wanda said in faux sincerity. She lazily ten her tongue around Natasha’s tip in between sentences. “Maybe I’ll get a cast of it, for when I start to miss you. I could even get my sweet puppy to wear it as a sleeve, so she can feel what it’s like to have a real cock.”

“The poor puppy,” Natasha teasingly cooed, looking down at Wanda, “can she even get you off with that little thing?”

Wanda smirked, running her tongue up the underside of Natasha’s dick. “I have better luck getting off with a toy up that pretty ass of hers,” she teased. “I don’t even have to touch it most of the time. The little thing goes twitching and spurting all on its own.”

Natasha growled. “God, I’d love to watch her cry on my cock. Poor thing probably wouldn’t make it halfway down before the tears started flowing.”

Wanda chuckled again, continuing to lazily pump her hand against Natasha’s groin. “That will truly be a show. I can find a way to keep her mouth occupied, should she put up too much of a fuss.”

The two women continued talking, laughing at each other’s jokes, seemingly enriched in the conversation. All while Wanda casually played with Natasha’s perfect dick. And, most importantly, they never sparred you so much as a glance.

They talked about you, briefly. But the conversation soon shifted to other topics: work, travel plans, antidotes from the past. They seemed to go on and on in a jovial little conversation you were not invited to be a part of.

You whined and whimpered from your bed, jealousy boiling up inside of you, but you didn’t dare leave your bed. Even in a jealous rage, you knew the rules. You wouldn’t speak and you wouldn’t leave your bed until Wanda told you to.

You tried to remind yourself Wanda was just playing. You’d talked about this several times before. Natasha was by no means a new and unexpected addition to your sex life. But something about the way Wanda was genuinely smiling up at Natasha, her perfect dick in Wanda’s nicely manicured hand, made it feel like more than playing. You found yourself crying, tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to get their attention.

You were practically jumping around your bed, seconds away from running up and pushing Natasha away, when she finally said “Tony will be expecting me back. I told him I’d only be gone an hour or so.”

“Okay,” Wanda sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I can get the little one to behave. Love ya.”

Natasha zipped up her pants, shoving her hard on back down in her underwear. “Love ya. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then, with all the audacity in the world, she bent down and gave Wanda a little peck on the lips.

When Natasha finally left the room, Wanda finally tapped her lap and whistled for you to come. You ran to her, nearly sending her rolling chair across the room with the impact. She caught you in her arms, gently petting the back of your head. “Shhh puppy, mommy’s got you. You’re okay.”

You whined pathetically in her lap, pawing at her shirt and leaning back to look her in the eyes. “You were just playing with Natty, right? You don’t really like her cock better, do you? Mine is still your favorite, right? Even though it’s little and maybe not so… pleasurable as hers, it’s still your favorite? Please tell me it’s still your favorite.”

Wanda giggled, calmly coddling you into her while you cried. “Of course your cock is still my favorite, baby. I was just playing with Tasha, puppy. Remember what I told you? I don’t like playing with her like I play with you. You're my special little puppy and no one is ever going to change that.”

“And-and you didn’t like kissing her either because I’m your favorite person to kiss and you were just playing when you did that,” you rambled.

Wanda eyebrows lifted in surprise. She straight up made out with Natasha in front of before for your enjoyment. She was surprised the little kiss set you off so bad. “Of course, love,” she said, pulling you into a kiss. “You’re my absolutely favorite person to kiss.”

“You promise?” You pleaded “Even though she’s bigger, and… and her cock is perfect. And she’s prettier than I am…”

You were interrupted by Wanda grabbing your face. “Hey,” she said firmly, “you’re talking about my special puppy right now and we’re not gonna use words like that, okay? Sweetheart, if it was really bothering you to watch me and Tasha like that, I need you to use your safe word, okay? I’m only playing, honey. And I can only do that if I know that you’re okay.”

You nodded. “I-I like watching you play with Natty, but you were pretending like I didn’t exist and I got a little scared that you forgot…” you explained. “You weren’t even holding my leash. You just… left it on the ground!”

“Oh sweet girl,” she soothed, “of course mommy didn’t forget about you, baby. We were putting on a little show special for you, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know,” you cried. “I was trying really hard to remember. But you were just so happy with her, and-and… I thought maybe you liked her better than me!”

“Would you have felt better sitting in mommy’s lap?” She asked, trying to problem solve this venture for the future.

You nodded. Everything is better when you can hold onto mommy.

She chuckled. “Okay, baby. How about this: next time you need my lap you just give my clothes a little tug. You won’t get in trouble for leaving your bed. If you start to feel any bad feelings, you can feel free to crawl up in my lap. Or, can you remind me of our word we use we use when we have to take a little pause and talk about something?”

“Y-yellow,” you responded.

“That’s right!” She praised. “You’re such a smart puppy. Can you promise you’ll use that next time we’re playing and you start to not feel so good?”

You nodded. “Yes mommy, I promise.”

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Remember that even during your punishments, you have the right to interrupt if something doesn’t feel right, okay. Not everything is supposed to feel good, but it’s never supposed to be too much.”

You nodded against her, wrapping your arms around her possessively.

She let you sit like that for a minute, cooing over how much she loved you, before tucking your head into her neck and wheeling back to her desk. She carefully moved her laptop away from the center of the desk, lifting you up and setting you down in its place. You hissed as your sore ass mad e contact with the hard surface. “Now, how about mommy takes a little break from work to show you how much I love this little cock of yours, and then you can sit on my lap and cuddle until I’m done for the day?”

You nodded, leaning back against the desk, bracing yourself as she spread you out in front of her. She nudged your legs apart, sliding herself between them as she took you in. She places gentle kisses up your thighs, ruining her knuckle lightly against your throbbing shaft. “Such a pretty puppy. You’re still so hard for me angel. Have you been waiting on mommy to take care of you all day?”

You nodded, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from whining. Your dick was so beyond hard by this point. It took all of your willpower to stay still on the desk.

She finally took you into her hand, gently massaging the precum from your tip. “Oh angel,” she breathed, licking the thin liquid up as it dripped down your shaft. “This is mommy’s favorite cock, princess. There’s never been a more perfect one in the world.”

“Really?” You squeaked. After an afternoon of neglect, her tongue immediately felt like heaven. You were struggling to keep your head upright, but she wrapped your leash around her hand, forcing you to stay. She looked at you like you were her whole world.

She nodded, slipping the tip of your cock past her lips. You almost immediately jerk at the heavenly sensation, but she was already holding your hips in anticipation. You weren’t known for being a patient puppy. She slid one of your legs up over your shoulders to give her better access.

Her mouth moved rhythmically around your cock, occasionally pulling away to suck on your balls while she stroked you with her hand. She went slow, but not cruelly so. She was taking her time with you because you were important. Because she loved you.

Your hands tightened around the edge of the desk, fingernails digging into the underside of it. “Mommy…” you moaned, straining against the leash.

“Mmm,” she hummed, lip still wrapped around your cock. The good thing about your small size was she could take you in your entirety without much effort. You could feel your tip nearing the back of her throat.

She moved her hands from your balls down to the plug in your ass. She tapped the metal with the tip of her nails, sending vibrations deep inside of you.

You whined. “Mommy it’s gonna hurt….”

“Aww,” she cooed, sloppily kissing down your shaft. “Is it gonna hurt when you cum baby? Is it gonna hurt when your tight little ass clenches around mommy’s big plug?”

You nodded. She pulled on the end of the metal plug, twisting it inside of you. The pain sent shivers up your spine.

“It’s okay, puppy,” she soothed, “Mommy’s right here baby. It’ll only last a little bit and then you’ll get all the cuddles you can ever dream of, okay?”

“O-okay,” you breathed and she sucked sharply on your balls. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, willing yourself not to orgasm too hard.

But Wanda seemed intent on ruining this plan. She masterfully guided her tongue around your tip before she took you down to the hilt, letting it hit the back of her throat. She switched her attention between fondling your balls and playing with the plug in your ass. It wasn’t long before you were ready to cum.

“You're holding back on mommy, aren’t you? I can feel you all swollen in my mouth. And these little balls are very full, puppy. Don’t you wanna cum for mommy? You’ll feel much better after,” she insisted.

Your bottom lip quivered. “I’m scared, mommy.”

She smirked. She’d never seen you so dedicated to not having an orgasm. Either way, your resistance was futile. She continued to toy with the plug while she skillfully sucked you off. She tightened her hold on the leash.

It wasn’t even a full minute before you were begging. “Mommy. Mommy please. Please mommy I’m gonna cum. Please mommy,” you pleaded.

With one final stroke, you came, spilling down her throat. She was sure to swallow every drop, treating it as if it were a holy thing she’d be loathe to waste.

The pain overshadowed the pleasure almost immediately. Your ass tightened frantically around the plug, futilely attempting to push it out. It hurt worse now than it had going in. You cried out, reaching out to grab any part of her you could.

“Shshshhhh,” she soothed, holding her hand in one of hers while the other stroked your forehead. “You did so good for me, puppy. You’re such a good girl. It’s over now honey. You can have all the cuddles baby.”

She slid back down your body, methodically kissing her way back down your stomach to your now soft dick. She took it into her hands, all shrunken and small, and placed a little kiss to the head. She nuzzled it with her nose. “Mommy’s perfect puppy and her perfect little cock. The softest and the prettiest in the whole entire world.”

“It’s all yours,” you assured, breathlessly. “Nobody else in the world gets to touch it.” You paused before giggling a little bit. “Except for maybe Natty sometimes. But only if mommy says it’s okay.”

She giggled. “That’s right, princess. You’re a smart little puppy.”

You nodded, letting her lift you off the desk and back into her lap. She grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and tossed it over your shoulders, using it to swaddle you into her chest.

You sat astride her lap, arms crossed over your own chest as you nestled into hers. She placed a kiss on your head, rubbing the back of your hair with her thumb.

“Get some rest now, puppy. Mommy’s got work to do.”

[takadokii]

✴ what the heart wants !! ‧₊.࿐

summary You try to test your luck and have a vulnerable conversation with Satoru. But all he's thinking about is kissing you, and he doesn't understand the concept of crying anyway. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags soft fluff, comfort, gojo doesn't know emotions (canon) warnings reader mentions that they cried last night, one nono word word count 810 links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

"When was the last time you cried?" 

The question caught Satoru off-guard. Sometimes, words would leave your mouth that would make him feel so small and stupid. He straightened his back, standing tense and tall. A million thoughts raced through his head about what could have possibly prompted you to ask such a silly question.

Did he look like he cried recently? Are you asking just out of pure curiosity? What made you think about that right now in the first place?

"I cried yesterday when you punched me, remember?"

You punch him again.

"Stop fooling around, you know what I mean...like really cry." You don't look at him when you say this. Trying to get Gojo's mood to match yours was about as easy as getting him to shut up for more than 5 minutes.

But tonight, you felt extra vulnerable for no apparent reason at all.

"I don't remember. It's been a while. I probably haven't cried since I was five." 

You hum in acknowledgement, your hand running up the material of the sweater you had worn that night, fingernails brushing against one of the larger loops in your knitted sweater.

And because it's Gojo, of course, this rare, vulnerable sentence must be followed up with a 3-minute monologue with the sole purpose of sucking his own dick.

"I mean... What would I even cry about? I'm pretty. I'm talented. I'm funny and smart. I have no reason to waste my tears. Tears of joy, maybe. Because I was born so pretty and smart and talented and-"

"I cried last night," you interrupted Gojo with a shrug. It was spoken with so little emotion like you were just throwing it out there. A quick, fun little life update as if you were telling him about a new show you started last night.

"...huh?!" Gojo was shocked. He was unable to process this information, as well as unsure what he was supposed to do now. Because, unbeknownst to you, in his eyes, you were just about as talented and intelligent and maybe even a little prettier than him, so this didn't make any sense.

"Why would you ever need to cry? Who made you cry?!" This sentence left his mouth in a way more harsh, belittling and "invalidating your problems" kind of tone than he had intended.

This was Gojo Satoru, after all, of course, the question is who, what else could there be but people that hurt people?

You, knowing he was just a spoiled, confused little child on the inside (and the outside), recognised his intention behind the sentence anyway and answered.

"I don't know...I just wanted to."

"Wanted to?" Gojo was beyond confused. Crying had become a distant concept to him a long time ago. Usually, whenever he felt overwhelmed or hurt, his emotions would skip sadness and instantly transform into annoyance or anger. But for you, it seemed freeing.

For Gojo, crying was a line that mustn't be crossed, a door unopened, its key buried in a drawer in the room he grew up in.

"It's okay to want to cry. Nothing to feel guilty about. The heart knows what it wants."

But for you, crying was something good, letting everything you had carried with you seep out, wipe it away with a tissue and let it dry out, long forgotten in the trash.

You had learned not to let it overflow or push yourself to test how much you can carry. Sometimes, you just felt weak, and everything else felt heavy, and you had accepted that.

Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't know what that's like. He had never felt weak in his life, and something inside of you told you that you wouldn't live to see many instances in which he would.

"I felt much better after," you elaborated, seeing him go through the mental turmoil you hoped to ease his mind, "I feel much better now."

Gojo doesn't understand. He understands so little he doesn't even know where he'd begin to attempt to understand.  

He's physically distraught by the confusion you had just set aflame in him.

"Well...if you ever cry again, you better not come to me because I am not at all emotionally capable of handling that."

You roll your eyes but grin nonetheless, nudging him with your shoulder before stepping closer and pressing yourself into him. Instinctively, Gojo raises his arm, letting you slip underneath as he places his hand on the sleeve of your sweater.

One of his fingers gets stuck in a loop, his eyes get stuck on your smile, and he tries hard not to kiss you right then and there.

Continuing to stare, a fluttery hot feeling formed in his chest, and he realised just how braver you were than him for giving in to what your heart wanted.

thanks for all the love on my latest one shot! :)

i hope the layout of my collection isn't too confusing, I'm working on making it more manageable and easy to understand!

i've put a lot of heart into this universe, the dynamic and my characters so I'm probably just thinking too far ahead.

i'm very happy i've started this and i can't wait for you all to see what i have in store!

love, jae 🩵

[lucagray813]

Shadow - Chapter 8

Title: Something Special

Rating: E (M rated and E rated sections are marked with the line break --M-- and --E-- respectively and can be skipped)

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: Monkeys, Mentioned PIF

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: Macaque & PIF

Summary: After some monkey shenanigans, Wukong learns a little about the difficulties Macaque faced while he was imprisoned. And bold, new steps are taken in the bedroom.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: Sexual Intimacy, sexual inexperience, first times, penetrative sex, emotional sex, interrupted sex, panic attacks

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

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Wukong was not born yesterday and his beloved monkey subjects were nowhere near as slick as they thought they were. This lot were clearly on distraction duty but they couldn't be more obvious about it if they tried, so ignoring their concerned shrieks, he turned heel and made his way back to the house.

Which apparently was enough to prompt desperate measures but it didn't matter how many monkeys piled on top of him or tried to pull him back - they couldn't hope to slow him down, let alone stop him. Their attempts to cover his eyes however was a step too far - being both irritating and dangerous - so he simply transformed in quick succession to a tiny mouse and then a bird to get away from them.

He flew swiftly and if that wasn't the sight and sound of a lookout just outside the house then he didn't know what was. He wasted no time swooping down and transforming back to normal in order to march through the door, "Alright, the game's up, what's- What the-? What are you doing with my stuff!?"

It looked like they were trying to steal anything that wasn't nailed down. A small group was even putting in a huge effort to try and move the couch towards the door. There was some panicked scrabbling as most of the trouble makers tried to make a run for it and he had to move fast to save the TV but once that was safely righted it wasn't hard to catch a couple monkeys to interrogate.

"Alright. You know this is not on. What were you planning to do with my stuff?"

The monkey he had dangling from his left hand curled up as best they could, regret clear in their expression - although he didn't doubt for a second it was because they'd been caught and not because they felt any guilt. The monkey on his right was much less apologetic, apparently they needed his stuff for something important and they complained that they were going to bring it back when they were finished.

He shook them carefully, "I don't care that you were going to bring it back - where were you trying to take everything I own?"

They were tight-lipped so he redirected his attention to the weaker link, staring at them with as much disapproval as he could muster and they cracked almost immediately.

"You needed it for a show...? What show? What are you talking about?"

He shifted the angry monkey in his right hand to under his arm to stop them trying to reach the whistleblower and put the one in his left down, "Alright, the jigs up - show me where you were planning to take all this stuff."

After sending a wary glance towards their imprisoned partner in crime, they reluctantly led the way, and thankfully in that time his prisoner had calmed down, simply hanging limp and defeated. He shook his head - everyone on this island was so dramatic.

He wasn't very surprised to be led to the old theatre, long since cleaned up since Macaque had returned, but he was surprised to see it absolutely teeming with monkeys preparing to go on stage. He spotted Macaque off to the side with his eyes closed, he almost looked like he was sleeping in his chair and, given how peaceful he looked, he likely had limited the range of his hearing to almost nothing.

There was no way he didn't know he was here though - he would have sensed his magic if nothing else.

Bemused by what he thought was going on here, he released his charges and made his way over, sitting close to Macaque before asking, "This the director's seat?"

Macaque didn't even open his eyes as he hummed tiredly, "Nope. Think that got tossed against a wall, like, twenty minutes ago. God knows where the director is, doubt it's the same monkey it was. They've already gone through about three of them."

A little confused, he responded, "Wait, this isn't your doing?"

Macaque peeked open an eye for long enough to look at him in mild disbelief and offense, "I know it's been a while but you really think I'd run a show this badly?"

He looked around at the chaos and decided that no, Macaque was most definitely not calling the shots around here. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, "Yeah, that does make sense. Why would you need to send the monkeys to steal furniture?"

Macaque sighed irritably and brought a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, "I told them not to- Sorry, I should have realised but I just couldn't handle the racket anymore. Did they break anything?"

"Nah, I got there before they could do any damage. You doing alright? You're not looking so hot."

"Yeah, yeah... Just tired. Think I might have a migraine coming on."

He frowned, "What are you doing here then? You couldn't be in a worse place to help it."

"It's a long story but someone needs to provide the special effects."

Did they really? He responded, "Well, I'll do it then. Get yourself out of here."

"I'd rather stay here but if you could take over my job I would actually be super grateful."

"Alright, what's the deal? Why're you wanting to torment yourself like this?"

"Can we talk about it later? I just... need to be around the monkeys for a while."

His expression softened, Macaque did occasionally have moments where he really wanted the monkeys' company, usually if he'd had a nightmare about the fire and if he was tired that might be what had happened.

Still he wasn't going to do himself any favours staying here, carefully he offered, "I could try some healing magic? That might help?"

He didn't miss the way Macaque tensed for a moment before he forced himself to relax. There had definitely been a polite decline on the tip of his tongue but shockingly he instead nodded stiffly. Wukong's offer had been genuine but he never actually believed Macaque would consider it.

Even before Macaque's hang ups about someone else's magic getting a little too close to his, he had never handled healing magic that well. Wukong was not particularly skilled at it either but he'd patched up literally thousands of monkeys over the years, so he had a pretty good grasp of the basics at least.

Slowly he raised his hands until they hovered on either side of Macaque's head, "You sure...?"

He nodded jerkily but it was clear how distressed he was about it, his body was tense, his face was scrunched up and his breathing was starting to pick up. Wukong hesitated, "Macaque..."

He spoke quickly, "Just do it."

Deciding to go for it, he took a deep breath and concentrated, determined not to mess this up. Macaque flinched as soon as his hands started to glow but he brought his own hands up to grab at Wukong's wrists as if to force them both to stay where they were.

He told himself to focus on the spell, focus on getting it right. He knew Macaque's magic, he would be able to feel if it responded badly, this was just fear, not pain.

He quietly uttered reassurances, "That's it. You're doing well. Just keep breathing."

Typically, the recipient would normally start to feel more relieved as the spell went on but Macaque just seemed to be doing his best to grit his teeth and bear it. This was the sort of spell you could keep going with but he tried to keep it as short as possible. He disengaged his magic slowly but he couldn't actually move his hands away with the hold Macaque had on them.

Instead he brought them to rest gently on the sides of his head, waiting for Macaque to come back to himself, which he did after a ragged breath in.

"You ok?"

Macaque nodded before dragging their hands away from his face and almost immediately flopping his head on Wukong's shoulder, "Tired."

Wukong was startled slightly by a small number of curious and concerned monkeys climbing over him. He'd almost forgotten where they were - chaos still carried on around them, most monkeys not even sparing them a glance bar this handful that were quietly chittering and asking what was wrong.

He jostled Macaque gently, "I've got things handled here. Go to get some rest. Go to my room and you can take this lot with you to keep you company."

They were a considerate bunch, keeping their enthusiasm for such a suggestion as quiet as they could, belatedly he recognised most of them as ones that had been around long before he'd come back from the Journey.

He felt Macaque nod, "Yeah... I should do that..."

"Yeah, you should. Before you do though - did the spell work? How're you feeling?"

Macaque sighed and pushed himself up tiredly, "I don't think it didn't work but I think I was too tense and tired for it to do much."

He leaned over and kissed his temple, "Go get some sleep and we can talk about it later. You did really good though."

Macaque just huffed and addressed the monkeys, "Alright, who wants to go for a nap?"

Almost all of them scrambled to get closer to him - a clear indication that they wanted to come with. And with a small, tired smile he was gone, his many willing volunteers gone with him.

Well, that was an unexpected success. Obviously, it would have been better if his spell had actually helped but the fact that Macaque even let him try it was a massive step for him and when he was less tired Wukong was definitely going to make a big deal about it. For now though...

He had to deal with this - whatever this even was.

He looked down at the despondent monkey that had remained in his lap and questioned them, "Don't suppose you can explain what's going on, can you?"

King sad. Want happy king. Did bad job.

The monkeys tended to address he and Macaque with the same title, particularly those that had been alive when he had been trapped under the mountain. It had annoyed him at the very beginning before the two of them had properly started to reconcile but now he was pretty happy that they viewed Macaque as his equal.

He could see how this might have started off as an attempt to cheer Macaque up but the monkeys had a tendency to quickly lose sight of why they were doing something and just got caught up in doing whatever they wanted and this had clearly spiralled well out of control.

"Hey, none of that now. He just wasn't feeling well. He would have loved this otherwise."

It was a little bit of a white lie. Even on a good day this probably would have irritated Macaque but he could appreciate the gesture. He probably still did appreciate it now, even if he was under the weather.

He moved them to his shoulder and looked around, trying to come up with a plan of attack. He had to try and find the monkey in charge so he could introduce them to their new special effects artist. Although it was looking likely that this had devolved past the point of anyone being in charge.

He sighed heavily, if he called the whole thing off there would be a riot. It looked like he was going to have to take charge here, he couldn't help but envy Macaque, no doubt lying in bed cosied up to some much better behaved monkeys.

Ah well, show time, he supposed.

----

Several grueling hours later and he was finally free to go check up on Macaque. There had been some genuinely fun moments throughout the day, and he was forever amazed by the stories the monkeys came up with, but he was absolutely ready to join Macaque in bed.

He was however stopped short when he opened his bedroom door and felt compelled to immediately locate his phone. It was just too cute a sight not to capture. Macaque curled up dozing, surrounded by monkeys doing the same, most of them snuggled up to him.

Alright, his hardships had been worth the pay off, and after a truly unnecessary amount of pictures, he made short work of stripping and carefully trying to join in on the monkey pile. Macaque opened an eye blearily as soon as he got on the bed, he grunted softly in acknowledgement before closing it again.

Unfortunately, some of the monkeys were just going to have to budge slightly because Wukong wanted to lie right next to him, and though they grumbled they did move, allowing him to lie almost nose to nose with Macaque.

He reached over and tucked some hair away from his face before quietly asking, "How you feeling?"

He got a sound in response that suggested that Wukong should shut up and go to sleep. He chuckled lowly, sounded good to him. They could chat after a nap.

An hour or two later saw him returning to the waking world, he yawned loudly as he stretched, before he directed his attention to what appeared to be a still sleeping Macaque.

"Mac...?"

He got a soft hum in acknowledgement and took that as a go ahead, "How you feeling now?"

Macaque yawned before blinking open his eyes, "Hm. Better. How was the show?"

He snorted, "I'd call it a disaster but everyone else seemed to think it was a hit."

Macaque huffed, "Yeah, what would you know about quality theatre?"

"Obviously nothing compared to the troupe. What was up with you earlier?"

Macaque shrugged, "Got into a bit of fight with Gōngzhǔ - just left me feeling a bit rung out."

That was definitely not the answer he was expecting, "What'd you get into a fight over?"

"Ah, it wasn't important. She was just in a mood - it'll be water under the bridge soon enough."

It was hard not to notice one or two of the monkeys still with them did not appear happy at the mention of Gōngzhǔ, it could have just been because she had been why Macaque was upset but they looked quite venomous.

One of them even started complaining about the "scary woman" before Macaque placed a hand over their head, "Yeah, yeah. We're all fine. Give it a rest." They did not look pleased to be silenced but they struggled to keep up the grumbling when Macaque started scratching gently at their scalp.

Wukong was a little suspicious, "Why do I get the feeling the monkeys know more than I do?"

Macaque just sighed, "It's nothing. It's just the last time Gōngzhǔ was on the island before you came back was a bit of a disaster. They don't remember her too fondly."

Despite this having happened hundreds of years ago, he could feel himself getting worked up at the thought that she might have done anything to endanger their home, "What did she do?"

"Wukong, leave it. It's in the past. There's no point getting bent out of shape about it."

He was prepared to argue when he realised that he was probably right, that didn't mean he didn't want to know though. He took a calming breath, and softer he asked, "What happened?"

Macaque hesitated before offering, "She was trying to help. But, and I don't know if you know this, but she has a really twisted notion of what that means. She just..." He cut himself off, before explaining, "I really don't want to tell you this story. It's only going to upset you and there's nothing to be done about it."

"I'm not going to make you tell me but the damage has already been done. I'm just going to imagine the worst case scenario."

Macaque rolled on to his back, and the monkey he had been petting quickly leapt up onto his chest and curled up there and almost unthinkingly Macaque brought his hand to rest on their back.

He was clearly thinking over what to say and Wukong waited patiently, only budging over so he could lay his head on Macaque's shoulder and throw an arm over him.

Tone carefully neutral, he explained, "Things weren't good. They hadn't been for a while but... She was just convinced that if I left the island behind and became an official member of her court I would be better off. We'd argued over it plenty but after the fire... She thought if she finished the job I'd finally see sense. Be free of what was holding me back."

He tightened his grip on Macaque as he processed the implications of those words, he tried to keep his fury in check, "She tried to...?"

"Tried to. Failed. She did some damage to the island, sure, but I would have killed us both before I let her hurt a single member of the troupe. I couldn't save them all from the fire but I would be damned if I was going to fail a second time."

His chest roiled with emotion but what left his mouth was, "How could you stand to be anywhere near her after that?"

He immediately cringed. He was one to talk. How could Macaque ever possibly stand to be anywhere near him after what he'd done? It was likely a similar story - he hadn't forgiven her, but had decided to move forward anyway. He tried to back track, "I mean, I- I just meant-"

"I know what you meant."

Wukong squeezed him, "I'm sorry."

Sorry really didn't do it justice. He was sorry he'd said anything and he was so incredibly remorseful something so awful had happened.

Macaque continued, "It was the last time we saw each other before... I came back. We've never actually properly addressed it but well, it got brought up while we were arguing. I don't think either of us are looking forward to having to try and talk about it. I know she doesn't feel bad about it. She never does if she feels the end would have justified the means."

He honestly wasn't sure what Macaque and Niú saw in her sometimes - there was tough love and then there was just straight up crazy. With how fondly Macaque spoke of her most of the time, he had almost forgotten how capable she was of some truly unimaginable feats of cruelty.

Macaque sighed, "We'll sort it out though. Honestly, that argument earlier was pretty tame - you should have seen how we used to fight back in the day. I swear half my scars are from her, she's such a vicious little shit. You've never met anyone with a hunger for violence like she used to have. But that was then, we'll be fine. You don't need to get involved so just... Don't go off and have a go at her, alright?"

He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but his time was better spent here. Although, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist glowering at her next time they met. To think he had willingly invited her to the island!

He huffed, "Fine. But she better watch her step next time she's on this island - one toe out of line and she's never allowed back."

"Oh, don't worry. I've said as much to her."

He nodded. Good. He knew Macaque would never knowingly put the island in danger.

He couldn't help but wonder if there had been any tension between Macaque and Gōngzhǔ at the party they'd had here and he'd just never noticed - they'd both seemed happy enough with each other.

"I always thought you two were, like, best friends. I didn't realise you and her had, like, actual beef."

"Yeah, well, I don't go complaining about you in front of her either."

And he was extremely grateful for that - she had enough reason to hate him. But still, while he got that Macaque probably didn't want to foster any bad blood between them, he wanted him to feel like he could talk to him about this stuff. Who else was he going to talk to if he was upset about Gōngzhǔ? Niú? Unlikely.

"How do you think it will go next time you see her?"

"Hard to say. Depends if Niú feels he needs to mediate. But either way it'll be fine, doubt it will end in too much bloodshed."

It would probably be a little hypocritical to say he hoped there was no bloodshed at all - it had been a long while since but he'd often had arguments with Macaque that had come to blows.

"Tell me how it goes?"

Macaque kissed the top of his head, "I will."

He decided to let the topic of Gōngzhǔ drop for the moment, he was definitely going to need some time alone to hash out everything he felt about what he'd learnt but for right now he'd rather forget about her. He asked, "How's your head?"

"Not a hundred percent but definitely better than it was. Er, thanks for, y'know."

"Anytime. How you feeling about the whole me using magic on you?"

He hesitated before answering honestly, "Conflicted."

He encouraged him to elaborate, "How so?"

"Well... Nothing bad happened so I should feel good, right? And I do, sort of. But the idea of doing it again is terrifying. Logically, I know it will be fine but..."

"It doesn't matter what "logically, you know" - your feelings don't care about that. But for the record, I think it was super brave of you to try it. I'm really proud of you."

He could hear the embarrassment in Macaque's voice, "Ugh, shut up."

He pushed himself up and looked down at him, "No way! It was a big deal! We should celebrate!"

Macaque looked like he'd rather do anything else but he tried to negotiate, "If I can do it again, then you can make a fuss, alright? This was probably just a fluke. I was just too tired to think straight."

He pouted as he poked Macaque's cheek, "Why are you so determined to downplay it when you do something impressive?"

Macaque swatted his hand away, "I never miss a chance to showcase my victories. This isn't the same. This is something I should just be able to do without freaking out. That's not impressive."

To be fair, when Macaque thought he'd done something spectacular he was incredibly smug about it, waving it in front of Wukong's face until he felt he received suitable recognition and awe. And Wukong could understand why he felt the way he did about this kind of achievement, at times he felt equally awkward about acknowledging when he'd successfully faced his social anxiety.

But it didn't matter how easy anyone else found it - Macaque had done something that was difficult for him personally and he should be proud of that.

"Well, I think it's impressive and I'm going to celebrate."

Macaque rolled his eyes but there was the faintest blush on his cheeks and that was all the motivation he needed to start showering his face with kisses.

"Ugh, you are such a loser."

Good thing he knew that actually meant - "I love you and I'm happy about the attention." And with that sort of sweet talk all he wanted to do was kiss him senseless. As he shifted to do just that he was interrupted by a disgruntled chirp. He stopped and looked down at the monkey that clearly did not want to move from Macaque's chest.

They had a short stare down but this monkey was crazy if they thought they stood a chance winning this fight but his adversary was obviously no fool because they suddenly stopped glaring at him to look as cute as they could, chirping pathetically at Macaque not to let him hurt them.

Incredulous, Wukong admonished, "You little... That's not going to work! You think we're not both wise to your tricks!"

They shuffled so their head was underneath Macaque's hand so they could nuzzle at it.

They were good but there was no way Macaque was going to fall for it. He would absolutely be aware that he was being played. Macaque laughed fondly, picking the monkey up and bringing them up to his face so he could rub their noses together, "You know how cute you are, don't you?"

Nowhere near as cute as Macaque was capable of being, that move there just about took Wukong out. He loved seeing him act all soft around the troupe.

The little rascal chirped happily before sending him a little cheeky side eye - clearly thinking themselves victorious. Oddly, all of a sudden he was over the cuteness.

He took the monkey out of Macaque's grasp and started to pick up any other stragglers, "Alright, I think it's time for everyone that's not me or Mac to get out of this room. You've all overstayed your welcome!"

He ignored their cries of outrage and unceremoniously dumped them out in the hall, making sure to make eye contact with the troublemaker that challenged him as he closed the door.

He dusted off his hands as he turned back around, "Now that's dealt with, where were we?"

Macaque had raised himself up on an elbow and teased, "I can't believe you kicked out the monkeys just so you could have your wicked way with me. When did you become such a deviant?"

He grinned as he made his way back to the bed, "I think we all know who the bad influence is here."

Macaque's face was a picture of faux innocence and Wukong didn't hesitate to crawl over him so he could show him everything said bad influence had taught him.

--M--

Wukong was very content with the way his and Macaque's physical relationship was developing. He had never been a monkey with a high sex drive but if he was honest the feelings of arousal or pleasure were nowhere near as important, or even as appealing, as discovering new ways to be close and intimate with Macaque.

It had taken a fair bit of convincing before Macaque finally seemed to accept Wukong was perfectly happy not to finish. And it wasn't even always just because he still felt bad about being the only one to do so, it just wasn't the point of doing this - he preferred it to be sensual rather than sexual.

He liked seeing and hearing how Macaque responded when he touched him, he liked exploring his body and whispering words of devotion against his skin. And he liked when Macaque did the same to him - it was just so easy to get wrapped up in each other and forget that the rest of the world existed.

It hadn't been a straightforward learning experience, both of them at times a little too keen to please the other or a little too reluctant to accept any reciprocation - neither a hundred percent on their own boundaries let alone each other's but they were figuring it out.

As a general rule, there was no touching below the belt, which Wukong could easily accept but Macaque would still occasionally try and convince him otherwise, whispering promises of how good he could make him feel if he would just let him.

He was in two minds about it.

On the one hand he had learnt how good it felt to be the one responsible for making someone else's pleasure, so Macaque would definitely not be getting nothing out of the experience but on the other hand, he'd built up this idea in his head that an orgasm was way too big a thing for him to be able to properly repay Macaque for.

And part of him knew that it was silly, as if an orgasm was the greatest gift someone could receive, but the longer he didn't let it happen the bigger a deal it became in his mind. He couldn't find a way to reciprocate in a way that had equal value so he just couldn't let Macaque do this for him.

Knowing this was the root of the issue however Macaque was not so easily deterred and he had tried a myriad of arguments or ploys to try and change his mind - some of which were definitely better than others.

One thing they had learnt from Macaque's attempts to convince him was that hearing him beg to service him was possibly the fastest way to turn him off. He could understand that plenty of people would have found that particular attempt very appealing but he couldn't even begin to express how bad it made him feel.

Macaque had thankfully noticed very quickly and everything had stopped so they could talk about it. Macaque had been a little surprised that he'd been so against it, not having quite realised how much Wukong hated him treating him like a king, even in jest. That certainly hadn't been a fun conversation but he was sort of grateful to finally have talked about it, even if thinking about the circumstances did embarrass him a little.

Macaque did however eventually hit upon the right strategy to get Wukong to cave, breaking off their heated make out session on the bed to sit tall upon his lap and all but demand that he be given what he wanted.

In any other setting, Wukong have been annoyed at the domineering attitude but damnit if Macaque didn't look good sitting in his lap as if it were his personal throne and looking down on him as if there was no outcome where Wukong didn't submit to his desires.

He had decided he did not want to closely examine why this was what apparently did it for him but he'd been able to do nothing more than gaze up at him in awe as he nodded mutely. The victorious grin he got in return had no right to be as attractive as it was.

He was fairly certain a hand job was not supposed to be such a euphoric experience but Macaque obviously knew what he was doing and with the well earned knowledge he had of his body, Wukong had been putty in his hands. He wasn't convinced he hadn't died as he lay in the afterglow.

He was quickly snapped out of it however when he realised that Macaque was intending to clean up the mess he'd made with his tongue. Face burning, he had trapped him against his chest with a strangled, "Don't you dare!"

Macaque had found this hysterical, even as he complained that now he'd gotten his mess on both of them. Macaque had been almost unbearably smug about his performance, and there was literally nothing that Wukong could say to bring him down a peg because it was undeniable how thoroughly Macaque had rocked his world.

He had made it abundantly clear that this wasn't something he wanted to happen every time though. It had been amazing, sure, but he still preferred the way they normally did things. Which seemed to puzzle Macaque a fair bit but he was amicable to it as long as he was no longer totally deprived of the pleasure of making him come undone.

Deprived... He was honestly a ridiculous person. But it did help settle his anxiety over not being able to reciprocate. This thankfully did not result in the opposite problem of being worried he now wasn't giving Macaque everything he should when they were together like this. He always let Macaque be the instigator for their more sexual entanglements but all he had to do was direct Macaque away from more "exciting" territory and he took the hint without complaint.

They were getting pretty good at telling each other if there was something they liked or something they would like to try but Wukong refused to voice how badly he wanted Macaque to drop his glamours. It wasn't just his ears or his eye or the magic burn marks he knew were there - all of Macaque's scars were hidden.

And it tormented him slightly that he couldn't explore Macaque's body properly, couldn't learn every inch of it like he wanted to. It'd been a while since they'd discussed their glamours and he had to resist the urge to revisit the subject. He wasn't sure why he felt so reluctant to bring it up. It just felt like he would be asking for too much.

But while he couldn't map out Macaque's real body as he would like, he was starting to get to grips with how best to apply his magic in ways that made Macaque sing and in doing so he felt he was starting to understand Macaque's own magic in ways he never had before.

Kissing and feeling Macaque's skin was almost more for his own pleasure than Macaque's, what really mattered when it came to making Macaque feel good was affecting the magic thrumming beneath the surface and as such he was hyper aware of any little changes in the flow of Macaque's magic.

He couldn't feel the sort of minute detail that Macaque could but that didn't mean he couldn't deepen his understanding of what he could feel and the best way to get magic to respond was with magic.

He'd learnt well before they had started experimenting in the bedroom that just directing more magic to his hands wasn't the key to helping Macaque get the most out of the experience, and sometimes it could just end up being uncomfortable if not actually a bit painful. A little fine control with focused intent was what garnered the best results.

He was still working on how best to direct and control his magic in more sensual situations and even if he did seem to hit on to something good, maintaining that sort of control was difficult even at the best of times, it was made all the more difficult when he was being distracted by Macaque's sighs and moans.

But he was both determined and talented - slowly but surely he was getting better at it. He liked to imagine that one day Macaque might feel ready to let him do even more with his magic, to let it sink into his body and interact with his own. To feel each other in a way that neither of them had ever experienced with another person.

But as heady a fantasy as that was, it was still a long while away from seeing the light of day and it was definitely something that they needed to figure out outside of the bedroom first, because he had no idea how to even really go about it and Macaque still struggled with him just casting spells on him.

But overall it was all moving in a positive direction and he was completely enamoured with their deepening intimacy.

Unsurprisingly, it was Macaque that suggested they take it a step further.

--E--

There was nothing to suggest that today's make out session was going to develop well past anything they had done before. It wasn't even a particularly handsy or exciting venture, there was no reason that today should be the day that Macaque broke their kiss to say.

"You should fuck me."

He thinks his mind might have stalled for a second before he came to his senses and reeled back, voice a little higher pitched than he would like, he got out an incredulous, "What!?"

Completely blasé, Macaque responded, "Ah. No. Wait, wait. Let me try that again. That's too crass for your tastes, right? I forgot you prefer more romantic euphemisms." In a sultry voice he tried, "Wukong, I want to feel you inside me. Oh, no, wait, I can do better still - I want you to make sweet love to me."

The swooning really wasn't necessary, although arguably none of his teasing was. But he wasn't wrong, he generally did prefer sweeter, less direct language and he was forever embarrassed by the fact. He blamed Zhū Bājiè, he wasn't sure how it was his fault, but his incessant talk of women must have played some part in why he was less fond of crude language.

But thoughts of his sworn brother had no place here.

Nowhere near as cool and collected as he would like to be, he exclaimed, "Now? Like, right now?"

Macaque's expression was one of pure amusement, "Now was when I was thinking, yes. Unless, of course, you were expecting to be wined and dined first? I think I know where to find some candles and rose petals if that's what you're worried about."

Obviously, it wasn't. But Wukong was realising while he had on occasion imagined what it might be like to with sleep with Macaque, he had never actually thought of how that happened. In his mind they transitioned from not-sex to sex so naturally without ever having discussed it but on reflection there was no way that was how it was going to go down. In fact, it was probably always going to be like this.

With Macaque being a little shit about it.

"I'm not worried about anything! You just caught me off guard! Isn't this something we should, like, talk about first?"

"Oh? What do you need to know?"

One day, he was going to have the upper hand in these situations, he swore, but unfortunately it wasn't today, "Like, I don't know, how do we do this?"

Macaque raised an eyebrow, mirth sparkling in his eyes, "Now I know you know how. That's the one part you've definitely got experience of."

He felt his face redden, "Obviously I didn't mean that how! I meant, how? Because I don't think either of us want a repeat of how we used to do things!"

God knows he didn't, it flew in the face of all the intimacy they'd carefully built together and was not at all what he imagined a proper union between the two of them could be. Not to mention, Macaque would never let him live it down if he couldn't do better than his younger self's monkey instincts.

Macaque snorted, "Yeah, no. That can stay firmly in the past. Well, how do you want to do it?"

"Me? Oh no, you're the one that brought this up. How do you want to do it?"

"You can just say you want to do it missionary. No shame in that."

He buried his face in Macaque's chest, "Ugh. Shut up. Why do you have to be like this? I'm embarrassed, you win, alright? Can we please just talk about this properly?"

Macaque laughed as he brought a hand up to gentle scratch at Wukong's scalp, "Yeah, alright. But I really don't care how we do it but if you have something in mind then let's do it that way."

He looked up at him, "Hold on. Before that, why now? What was so special about today?"

Macaque looked faintly amused, "Special? Nothing. I've been thinking about it for a while and this was just when it felt right to bring it up."

He scowled, "You just did it now to mess with me, didn't you?"

Macaque laughed, "I didn't but I can't say I'm disappointed with your reaction. That was great. But tell me, when would you have preferred I brought it up?"

If he was honest, there was probably no time or place where he would have been prepared but it was the principle of the thing. He pouted, "I don't know. It's not like it matters anyway. But... You want to do this, right?"

"That is why I brought it up. You not feeling as keen on the idea?"

A little awkwardly he admitted, "It's not that. I guess, I just don't really know how to... Obviously, I get the basics but, I don't know, just talk me through the plan here."

"The plan is pretty bare bones - you get us some lube, we figure out a position and get to it. I really don't know what else to tell you."

He frowned, "You're missing a step, aren't you? You need to prepare in some way, don't you?"

Macaque shrugged, "If pain was something I could feel then yeah but we'll be fine without it. Lube will be enough."

He pushed himself up so he could smack Macaque's arm and glare at him, "Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean you can't get hurt. That is literally the last thing I want to happen."

Macaque just rolled his eyes, "Fine. Get me some lube and I'll sort it out."

Suddenly bashful, he averted his eyes, "Or, y'know, I could do it...?"

"Either way, we need lube, Wukong. You want to get on that?"

He sat up properly and tore out a hair in order to transform it. He held out the materialised product for Macaque's approval, "Is this ok?" He just wanted to make sure - it's not like he'd ever used his powers to conjure up such a thing before after all.

Belatedly, he realised Macaque couldn't actually see what he'd summoned and he started to read the back of the bottle. He had never really understood how his powers were able to work with so little information to give him such a detailed product - he didn't know what ingredients were supposed to be in this and yet here he was reading what seemed a very accurate ingredient list.

Macaque cut off, a little exasperated, "Somehow I don't think your powers have summoned something dangerous. As long as it's slick I think it will do the job. Are you sure you don't want me to do this?"

Holding the bottle a little defensively, he responded, "I've got this!"

Macaque just rolled his eyes and started shifting until he was lying on his front with a pillow under his hips, "Well, I'm all yours then."

He moved to straddle Macaque's legs and found himself a bit unsure how to proceed. He knew technically what he was supposed to do but... He coughed, "Maybe for the sake of absolute clarity, you can tell me exactly what you want me to do?"

Surprisingly patient, Macaque rested his head on folded arms, "Just lube up your fingers and start with one, when that can move easily enough add another and so on. If in doubt add more lube and take more time. We're in no rush. Foreplay is half the fun after all."

He could do this. He was great at everything! And he was not at all stressed out by the idea that Macaque wouldn't know if he was hurting him. He just had to take his time. He had unbelievable wells of patience. He could do this.

Fingers lubed, he set the bottle down close by, then rested his dry hand on Macaque's backside. He did appreciate the way Macaque's tail wrapped around his bicep comfortingly in response. He swallowed thickly before he started to slowly sink his first finger into him. Only to almost immediately pull it back out when Macaque hissed.

Panicked and concerned, he rambled, "Shit. Are you ok? What happened? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to-"

Macaque's tail squeezed his arm tightly, "Stop freaking out. You didn't hurt me but you do need to get your magic under control. You may as well have lightning bolts of anxiety coming off your hands. What are you stressing out over?"

Oh shit. He hadn't been thinking about his magic at all.

Stupid.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realise- I- Shit."

With what surely must have involved shadows in some way he soon found himself more or less sitting in Macaque's lap, their faces inches apart, "Wukong, it's fine. I should have realised that feeling your magic inside me would be more intense than feeling it on my skin. You didn't hurt me. I just wasn't expecting it. Now, tell me what's wrong."

He went to bury his face in his hands before he remembered at the last minute one of them was covered in lube, "I just don't want to mess this up."

"I already told you I could do it."

"No, not that, I mean, yes that but I meant all of it!"

"What exactly do you think you're going to do wrong?"

He cringed as he admitted, "Mac, I'm so stressed I don't even think I can get hard."

Macaque hummed as he brought a hand to his chin, "Well, that would make things a bit more difficult." He didn't seem at all worried or upset about this though and after a moment he flopped back on the bed, dragging Wukong with him, who just about caught himself before crushing Macaque.

"Alright new plan. Forget about the sex. Back to kissing with the option to finger me while you're at it. If you're up for it."

Relief and shame warred within him, "You sure? You wanted to-"

"As established, there's nothing special about today. Why rush? There's clearly an element we didn't anticipate - let's figure that out first."

"You're not disappointed or something?"

Laying it on thick, Macaque responded, "Oh, you're right. I just hate kissing you and I absolutely don't want us both to enjoy ourselves. What was I thinking?"

"Alright, alright. I get it. Still, I'm sorry for... y'know..."

Macaque just rolled his eyes and dragged his head closer to his, so their lips were inches apart, "How about you make it up to me by showing me what those magic hands of yours can do?"

It was so easy to fall back into the familiar, to pick back up where they'd been before Macaque had suggested kicking things up a level, and as much as it settled his nerves it also stoked a fire within him. He could make Macaque feel good, he knew how to do that, he wanted to do that.

Passion bled into their kiss and he allowed his hands to wander, tracing over every inch of chartered territory, determined to make Macaque feel good. He refused to let him reciprocate, which normally would have Macaque not-so quietly amused but he was clearly enjoying his undivided attention too much to interrupt it with their normal banter.

He had perfect control over his magic, not even his own building arousal was enough to let him falter in his single minded pursuit to bring Macaque as much pleasure as possible.

He manoeuvred them both so he could still kiss Macaque and comfortably lay a hand on his backside, fingers creeping slowly towards unexplored territory.

He could do this.

His tail picked up the discarded bottle of lube, tipping it so it drizzled over his fingers and between Macaque's cheeks. Nerves were starting to make themselves known again but he tried to reason with himself. This was just like anything else they had done - he just had to take his time and pay attention to Macaque's reactions.

Don't even think about the sex that could theoretically follow. Just focus on feeling out what was happening right now.

Macaque squeezed his hip reassuringly and Wukong let their kiss lose some of their intensity for a moment to focus on the magic in his hands and the intent that influenced it - he wanted to make Macaque feel good, he wanted him to feel good because he adored him, because he loved him so much he didn't even know what to do with himself half the time.

When he started to sink the first finger into him, he was met with a gasp as Macaque broke their kiss to bury his face into his shoulder. Wukong paused but he didn't pull out, he hadn't sounded pained. He kissed the side of Macaque's head, "Talk to me, Mac. Ok? Not ok?"

A little breathless he responded, "Ok... Just intense. Anyway you could use less magic?"

He frowned as he concentrated, he wasn't actually sure he could, but he tried his best to draw magic away from his fingers while still maintaining control of what was there. He thought he must have been somewhat successful when Macaque slumped against him, "Yeah... Like that... Move?"

It was an odd feeling trying to move magic away from his hands, his fingers felt a little tingly, almost like they had pins and needles. It probably wasn't something he should do for hours at a time but as long as he had a reasonable baseline of magic still present it shouldn't be harmful. They could experiment and test it out a bit more another time.

For now, he focused on Macaque. On how he felt around his finger and on his reactions and both were reassuring him that he in fact would not have any issues getting hard if they chose to go any further than this. Once he felt confident that he had a good handle on his magic, he coaxed Macaque away from his shoulder so he could kiss him again.

Macaque was not someone that lost control very often but the desperate little sounds that occasionally escaped him coupled with the messy way he kissed him suggested to Wukong that he was probably a little powerless in the face of the sensations he was experiencing and it was a hard thing to resist falling into a similar haze.

He was a little torn over drawing this out for as long as possible and wanting to give him more and more to see how high he could bring him. But it was inevitably the former that he went with and it was only Macaque's prompting that got him to add more fingers. Each one required them to pause for a minute as Macaque adjusted to the additional magic.

He was aware that usually finding someone's prostate was supposed to make them feel good but he'd been thorough in his exploration and all that really seemed to pull a reaction from Macaque was how he used his magic and so tentatively he had started to experiment with it.

A particularly clever twist of magic had Macaque throwing his head back and gasping his name and when their eyes met, he knew that they both wanted the same thing. Far huskier than he intended Wukong asked, "How?"

Long past the point of teasing, Macaque kissed him before answering, "However you want."

He was sure Macaque was expecting him to lay him down as he had teased earlier and part of him was tempted - he'd be able to kiss him as pleased and admire every expression that crossed his face - it was definitely how he usually pictured this going but...

He carefully removed his fingers, gingerly wiping them on the bed sheets on a spot away from them before gently pushing Macaque to lie on his side and plastering himself against his back, "Like this...?"

His senses apparently returned to him at least a little, Macaque looked over his shoulder and commented, "Unexpected but I'm not complaining. You're sure?"

He knew this probably wasn't the most comfortable position for either of them, but he wrapped an arm around Macaque and pulled him tightly to his chest, nodding against the back of his neck, as he somewhat bashfully admitted, "I... I like holding you like this."

He couldn't really explain why he wanted it this way but he knew that he almost always craved for Macaque to be wrapped up in his arms or for him to be wrapped up in Macaque's.

Macaque brought Wukong's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles chastely before affectionately calling him a sap. He tried not to let nerves start to build but he felt the need to ask, "You're sure about this? You really want to do it?"

Macaque responded by letting go of his hand and grabbing the bottle of lube and handing it to him, he sounded a little amused, "Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I really want to do this. And I know you do too."

He did. He really did.

He didn't give himself any time to doubt himself, slicking himself up efficiently before positioning himself at Macaque's entrance. He took a breath, and kissed just below Macaque's ear as he slowly pushed in. His hand quickly moved to grab Macaque's hip in order to steady himself.

Physically, it felt incredible but that wasn't what threatened to overwhelm him. Without involving their magic, this was the closest he could possibly be to Macaque and as he bottomed out, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head into the back of Macaque's neck as he willed himself not to cry.

He would never, ever live it down. But god, he loved him so much and he was so unbelievably grateful they could have this. That they'd gotten a second chance and this where it had led them? It felt impossible and yet against all odds they were here, together.

For a split second, he thought he had failed to keep it together but that sniffle hadn't come from him. He immediately propped himself up to try and get a proper look at Macaque's face, "Macaque? Are you ok?"

All he could really see was Macaque hurriedly wiping at his eyes, "Your fault. Fucking feeling so much. Tone it down will you?"

It surprised half a laugh out of him and he leaned his forehead on Macaque's shoulder, "I'm sorry but that's literally impossible."

He brought his hand up to rub Macaque's arm, "Are you alright though? It doesn't hurt?"

Macaque grasped the hand on his arm and pulled it down to hold it close to his chest, "It's intense. Really fucking intense. Doesn't hurt but just give me a minute."

He could have all the time in the world, Wukong was perfectly content right where he was. As he basked in the feeling of being buried in Macaque he realised he probably wasn't controlling his magic as tightly as he had been but admittedly he'd never actually had to manipulate the magic in his dick before.

A little awkwardly he asked, "Uh, is my magic too much? I could try and..."

Macaque's laughter was a little strained but it was genuine, "Not got the same control there as with your hands, huh? Go figures. It's fine. Go ahead and move."

He sort of didn't want to. He didn't want to lose any of the closeness they had. He kept his thrusts slow and shallow, almost trying to bury himself deeper without actually pulling out. And fuck it felt good but he almost didn't care about that, he wanted to figure out how to make it good for Macaque. He couldn't trust himself to mess with his magic like this and if he was being honest the thought of trying to manipulate magic where he was currently joined with Macaque was a little mortifying.

He found himself peppering Macaque's ear with kisses, unable to stop himself from whispering sweet little nothings into it which had Macaque trembling and quietly swearing in response. He choked over his reverent adulation however as one ear became three. His hips bucked unintentionally and it was hard to say whose gasp was louder.

"Fuck, Macaque..."

He didn't know if it was just his ears or if he'd taken all his glamours down but right now all he could focus on was the fact that he hadn't seen even this much of the real Macaque in centuries.

He wanted to take his hand back so he could feel them, so he could reassure himself he was actually seeing them, but Macaque tightened his hold the second he even tried it. He squeezed his hand reassuringly and gently began trailing kisses up the side of his neck towards his ears, giving Macaque plenty of time to tell him to stop.

But he didn't and Wukong tried to hold him impossible closer as his lips acquainted themselves with all three of his ears. It really struck him as he did so that sound was one of the only reliable ways Macaque had to perceive the world around him. Sound, magic and shadows. That was how he was experiencing them together right now.

He wasn't sure if it would work or even if it was a good idea but as he started up his litany of praise and adoration once more he spoke them as if they were an incantation, just the barest hint of magic behind every word but the effect was immediate.

A gasp and a strangled moan before Macaque let go of his hand so he could grasp Wukong's hair and pull him closer to his ears, as if he couldn't bear the thought of him even thinking of pulling away, of him stopping for even a moment.

This left his hand free to discover whether all of Macaque's glamours were down and as he felt along his chest and his abdomen he could immediately feel every scar that had been hidden away.

It was him. It was the real him and Wukong wanted to know every inch of him, wanted Macaque to never deprive him of all of him ever again.

Everything that wasn't Macaque was gone from his mind. All that mattered was filling his ears with words of devotion, mapping out every inch of his skin with hands and being as close to him as possible. He needed to know how much he loved him, how he couldn't stand to ever be without him.

He was vaguely aware of how heavily he was panting, of how urgently his hips snapped, of how close he was but it was all lost under a constant litany of Macaque, Macaque, Macaque.

He didn't think much of it when Macaque let go of his head to desperately hold his hand to his chest again, the sting of his nails cutting into his hand barely registering. It all came to a stuttering halt however at Macaque's desperate plea.

"Wukong! Stop!"

It took half a moment for the words to properly register but once they had, he all but froze, panting heavily as he pushed himself up to try and look at Macaque, "What's wrong? Are you alright? Macaque...?"

He had buried his face into the bed but Wukong could see how tightly his good eye was scrunched shut and he was bordering on hyperventilating. Wukong pulled out as carefully as he could but it still seemed to pull a small sob from Macaque. Alarmed, he tried to ask again what was wrong but words seemed beyond Macaque at the moment.

He still had a deathly grip on his hand however so he decided the best thing he could do was try and get him to calm down first. He tried to get his own breathing under control before trying to encourage Macaque to copy him, uttering reassurances between deep breaths.

After several stressful minutes, Macaque calmed enough to choke out, "Sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. Too much. Couldn't handle it. I didn't-"

He immediately tried to soothe him, "Hey. Hey. It's ok. You absolutely don't need to apologise. I'm the one that's sorry. I should have realised- I'm sorry I-"

"Stop. Please. Don't- It was me. It's always me."

He couldn't let that fester, "That's not true! Macaque, you did nothing wrong. We just moved a little too fast. That's all. Everything is fine. We're fine. You're fine."

He couldn't deny that he was equally trying to reassure himself. But even if he was feeling immeasurably guilty, what mattered right now was Macaque.

Who had let go of his hand in order to push himself up and turn himself round. Wukong's breath caught as he finally got to see his unglamoured face properly. He was so enraptured he almost missed Macaque's intentions as he reached down and rambled, "I can still do this. It doesn't have to be a total disaster. I can still make you feel good. I-"

Wukong stopped him before he could get anywhere near touching his dick. Macaque was crazy if he thought that's what he cared about, "Macaque, that is literally the least important thing right now."

He sat up so he could bring his free hand to gently rest beneath Macaque's scarred eye and, voice choked with awe, he said, "It's you. It's really you."

He wanted to stare at his face forever, take in every little detail of how it had changed, to map it all with careful hands, to cup his ears and find out if they still faintly glowed. Beautiful was not a word that felt appropriate, but despite the roiling emotions he was feeling, in that moment all he could think was how blessed he truly was to be able to see him like this.

He let go of Macaque so he could bring his other hand up to gently wipe away the tears that were escaping his good eye, "Macaque..."

Macaque ducked out of his hold to bury his face against his chest and Wukong went with the motion bringing them both back to the mattress as he wrapped his arms around Macaque.

Macaque's distress was clear, "I wanted this. I wanted to be able to do this so badly."

He rubbed Macaque's back, trying to comfort him, "I know... We might still be able to. We just need to take our time, figure out how to make it work for us."

Macaque hiccupped as he responded, "I just wanted this to be something we could have. Without having to work around whatever I am now. Like we always have to. I just wanted..."

Wukong kissed the top of his head and hushed him, "I know."

"It was good. It was so good right until it wasn't and I just couldn't..."

It eased his guilt ever so slightly that Macaque hadn't suffered through the whole thing but the question of how long had he not noticed the shift ate away at him, he felt himself tear up slightly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't notice. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you."

His apology just seemed to make Macaque feel worse, "Wukong, it wasn't you, you didn't do anything wrong. Fuck, you wanted this to be something special and I ruined it."

He felt they were on the precipice of an endless spiral of blaming themselves for what went wrong and as much as he wanted to make Macaque see that it was his fault and to beg for his forgiveness, it wasn't helping either of them right now.

"You didn't ruin anything and it was special. It was more than I could have ever imagined - it was incredible, you were incredible. You are incredible. Emotions are just running a little high right now. I know we need to talk about it but right now all I want to do is hold you and never let you go."

Feeling overwhelmed with the feeling, he choked out, "I love you." He buried his head in Macaque's hair and held him tightly, "I love you so much."

Sounding equally emotional, Macaque responded, "I know... I love you too. More than I could ever tell you."

Very little was said after that with Macaque falling asleep before too long, clearly exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster, and Wukong knew he wasn't long behind him but even as tired as he was he couldn't help but lightly run his hands over the scars he could reach in this position, trying to commit all of them to memory before they were hidden away again.

The morning was going to bring some difficult conversations but as he slowly drifted off all he could think about was how grateful he was to have Macaque here in his arms.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[fyreflys]

Prompt if you’d like it! Peeta giving his cold to Katniss on accident but since she no longer has a spleen, it turns into a more flu like illness for poor Katniss and Peeta must nurse her back to health (similar to her caring for him in the cave but ya know… #married)

Oooo this is an adorable idea! And I got another prompt that I think I can include that would work perfectly together. MERGE TIME!

Chicken Noodle Soup

(Katniss’s POV) - Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine

Everlark period/sick-fic, just fluff fluff fluff

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you sick.”

Is what Peeta keeps telling her. Constantly apologizing for transferring his cold. Even though Katniss didn’t even bother trying to keep her distance to avoid getting sick, so really it’s her own fault.

Katniss is pretty sure that no one ever really intentionally tries to get others sick, it’s always an accident. Happens as a result of what being sick means. And she knows Peeta didn’t do it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly have wanted to make her sick as a dog. So the fact that he keeps apologizing, as if there’s any possibility that he did do this on purpose, is beginning to make it feel like maybe he did. That, and it’s getting annoying. Very quickly.

“Peeta,” she groans, “Just- shut up.”

She doesn’t actually mean that. He’s really the only thing keeping her sane right now. She’s been bed ridden for three days now, and if her body didn’t feel like shit, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for a hike in the woods.

“Sorry.” He whispers, dabbing the wet washcloth on her forehead.

Yesterday Peeta dragged her to the doctor, because he’s convinced she’s dying. The doctor just confirmed it’s a bad cold, made worse by the fact that Katniss no longer has a spleen to help her immune system. He gave them some medication that “might” help, and then sent them on their way.

Needless to say, Katniss was not happy. Mostly because Peeta had dragged her out of the house when she felt like shit for no apparent reason.

Peeta was angry too. Kept mumbling something about “malpractice” and the doctor being an “idiot” and then trying to convince her that they need to go to the Capital, to see a “real” doctor.

“Peeta, I’m not sure if you have forgotten, but I’m in exile. Banned, to stay here in twelve for the rest of my life. So no, we cannot go to the Capital.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that she really doesn’t want to be re-reminded of all the terrible things that they’ve seen and had happen to them; most of which happened in the Capital.

“You’re the mockingjay. If something was majorly wrong with you, they’d have to save you.”

“I don’t want to be the mockingjay, anymore.” She’d grumbled as he tucked her back into bed, “and I’ve lived through worse than this.”

He frowned. Much like he is right now, as he looks at her with those big, blue, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“What?” She rasps.

He licks his lips. “I just…I’m so sorry you’re sick.”

She swears his heart is too big for his own good.

“You know what would make me feel better?” She sighs.

He perks up. “What?”

“Cuddle.” She whispers. She’d usually reach out to grab him, but her body feels too much like lead to exert that much energy.

He smiles. “I can do that.”

He peels back the bedsheets, and Katniss shivers at what feels like freezing air. He curls in behind her, gently squeezing her close. She melts against him. The arm around her warm and comforting. Until his hand slips under her shirt and his fingers start tracing patterns on her side, and he begins to pepper kisses to her shoulders. Despite them being small and gentle touches, her nerves feel overly sensitive with how feverish she is, and each soft graze almost feels painful.

“Stop- please,” she whispers, “that- too sensitive.” She mumbles.

“Oh. Sorry.” He places one more peck to her cheek, and then leaves her be.

She falls into sleep like a rock tossed down a ravine, skipping sleep entirely and diving straight into dreams. The world feels like it’s tilting and spinning around her as she dreams. They start out as strange and uncomfortable, but somewhere along the way they get more and more unhinged, twisted visions persisting, until finally-

She startles awake suddenly, eyes snapping open as she gasps for air. The nightmare feels plastered to her eyelids.

“Peeta?” She croaks softly, heart hammering in her chest as a tear slips down her cheek.

But she’s alone. Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She forces herself to reach across the bed behind her in search of him. But he’s not there either.

Momentarily she fears he’s abandoned her, but then she realizes that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.

She tries to shake the nightmare from her head. Desperately trying to imagine something else, like- Deer. Deer and squirrels, prancing through the forest. The nightmare was not real not real not real, as Peeta would say.

She takes a deep breath. Her entire body aches painfully. Specifically her lower back and her hips and- oh.

Even sick, and aching all over, she knows this feeling well.

“Damn it.” She huffs.

She supposes it was about time this happened again. She doesn’t bother keeping track. There’s no use with how irregular she is.

“Peeta.” She calls, but her voice is weak.

He doesn’t come. Where is he? She sighs. She’s going to have to do this herself, isn’t she?

She wills herself to gather any remaining energy she has to sit up. It takes a few minutes to convince herself.

I could just wait here, until he comes back-

No.

She sits up suddenly, impulsively, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. Her head spins, pain pounding through her skull. She coughs, clutching her head.

When the throbbing passes she manages to will her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. And then on the count of three she stands. She’s shaky, and the air is freezing agaisnt her feverish skin, and it’s awful.

Just get to the bathroom-

She makes it a few steps towards the door. And then she stumbles. She just barely catches the doorknob. She sends the door slamming closed as she falls.

“Katniss?!” Peeta shouts from down stairs.

She rolls over onto her back, and the world feels like it’s still spinning. He comes rushing into the bedroom, crouching down when he sees her.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Hands are immediately at her head, feeling for any bumps or bleeding, “What happened? Why are you out of bed?”

He sits and sets her head in his lap, brushing hair out of her face.

“Bathroom.” She whispers. “Just. Fell.”

“You should have called for me I would have helped.”

“I did.” She breathes, and even talking is exhausting. With Peeta right above her the world finally stops spinning.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was making pasta.”

She takes in a breath through her mouth, nose too stuffy. “Bathroom.”

“Well- I think we should take a moment. You just- what, fell trying to walk? That’s pretty concerning,” He feels her forehead, “and you’re really burning up, gosh.”

She could have told him she had a fever. It feels like it’s radiating through her bones.

“Toilet,” her tongue clicks softly in her mouth, feeling dry, “Bleeding.”

“Bleeding? What- where? Why didn’t you say you were bleeding! Oh my god-“ he starts to shuffle, pulling at her clothes to find the source.

“Period.” She groans, just about fed up with him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Right. Okay. Let’s get that taken care of then.”

He shuffles to sit her up against the wall, and then scoops her up bridal style. He carefully sets her down by the toilet, holding on as he pulls down her sweats and underwear in one fell swoop.

And yep- there it is. A massacre in her pants.

Peeta helps her sit, making sure she’s stable enough to sit up on her own. He pulls off her sweats and underwear, turning on the sink to set them in.

“Cold,” she whispers.

“Cold? You’re cold?”

Well- yeah, she kind of is. Despite feeling like she’s burning up from the inside, the floor and the toilet seat and the air is freezing against her skin. But she’s referring to the water.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “But-water. Cold water.”

“You need cold water? I can get you water. You’re probably thirsty you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”

Okay, yes, that too. She could use a glass of water.

“Yes, but- blood. Needs cold water.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay. Cold water. Right.”

She closes her eyes, slumping on the toilet as she pees. Peeta leaves to grab stuff from the bedroom. He returns with a fresh pair of clothes. He holds a cup of water up to her lips, and she sips. It feels like heaven down her throat.

“Thanks.” She breathes.

He just pecks her forehead. “How bout I run you a short bath? Luke warm. Try to get your body temp down. And you could really use a shower.”

She groans.

“I know- I know. But it will make you feel better, I promise.”

She just grumbles. He gets to work running a bath, and then scrubs the blood out of her underwear under the sink. He struggles to get a pad into the clean pair of undies, and Katniss finally wills herself to use the little energy she does have to show him. He kisses her cheek.

“Right. Got it. Now let’s get you in.”

She complains, but doesn’t have the energy to fight against him. He pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, and picks her up and sets her down in the tub. The water feels freezing at first. She yelps, clutching at him.

“I know- I know it feels cold but I promise it will help. You’re burning up Katniss. We need to cool you down.”

She holds onto him, and he presses kisses against her head. After a few minutes it starts to feel okay. He gently pours water through her hair. He scrubs in shampoo and rinses. He gently scrubs her with a warm soapy washcloth after he pulls the drain, just under her arms and between her legs, barely batting an eye at the blood. They’ve both seen enough of it for a lifetime. He turns on the shower head to rinse her off. The water feels like freezing needles against her overly sensitive skin. By the time he gets her out and finishes toweling her off she’s pissed.

She glowers at him from the toilet as he dresses her. He ignores her scathing eyes as he sprays in conditioner and brushes her hair, fumbling to put it in a makeshift braid.

“There! See, all better!” He smiles when he’s done.

She is not amused. Yes, her body feels less like a boiling fire, but she still hurts. And despite him doing all the work, she’s exhausted. But she’s too angry and stubborn to admit it, or even consider closing her eyes for some shut eye.

He chuckles. “You’re such a sourpuss when you’re sick, you know that?”

“That was hell.” She snips.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, okay Haymitch.”

He pulls her off the toilet and pulls up her underwear and pants. He gently scoops her up.

“You want to set up camp downstairs on the couch? That way it’s easier to get my attention if you need something. Also I’m making you soup.”

She gives a grunt, and winces as the pain that radiates up and down her spine and belly.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers.” He adds on.

She would usually turn those down. But at this point she’ll take them.

He gently lays her on the couch. He runs back upstairs to grab linens. He comes back down with arms full of blankets and pillows. He drops them in a heap on the floor. He leaves again. Katniss looses track of all the things he runs off and gets, eyes slipping closed.

He takes her temperature.

He hisses, “One o’ two. Yeah. You’re definitely getting meds.” Which he shoves into her mouth very shortly afterward. He tries not to look worried, but she can tell that he is. She’s worse than she was yesterday. He forces her to take the medication the doctor gave them the day before. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him.

He tucks her in under one blanket, but gives her plenty of pillows. He sets tissues and a glass of water on the side table next to her head. He kisses her forehead.

“Anything else you need?” He says softly.

Probably. But right now she’s exhausted. And talking is too much energy. So she just hums.

“Okay. Soup should be ready in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”

Truthfully, she wants him to curl in beside her on the couch and not leave her side. Because with him pressed against her, she has a semblance of relief.

Instead she just grunts. He pecks her forehead again, chuckling softly.

“Okay.”

And then she’s left alone. And despite being tired, she can’t seem to fall sleep. The pain is just too much. Enough that she’d toss and turn, but she doesn’t have the energy to do so. So instead she lays motionless in agony, waiting for meds to kick in.

It’s possible she does drift off. But it seems like each time her eyes open the grandfather clock by her mothers old bedroom door hasn’t moved an inch.

Finally Peeta reappears, with a steaming bowl in hands.

“Chicken noodle soup, for m’lady.” He bows, just for the dramatics.

He helps her sit up, and carefully spoons it to her lips. With how much pain shes in, the thought of food makes her nauseous. But Peeta coaxes her to eat. And she does. One small spoonful at a time. With how stuffed her nose is she can barely taste it, but what she does taste is good.

And it reminds her of the cave, in their first games. As she spoon fed him. Monitoring his leg. Trying everything she could think of to keep him alive.

Thankfully, now is nothing like that. This is peaceful, and warm, and safe.

With food in her belly she realizes how hungry she is. And she just about scarfs down the rest of the bowl, along with the hunk of bread he dips in the broth. And she feels like she has a little more energy.

“You want more?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head. She feels too full. Any more and she might puke.

“Your appetite is back. That’s a good thing.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She grumbles.

“Like- actually?” He freezes, shifting as if ready to grab a bin.

“No- just- a lot of food. Nauseous from the pain.”

He frowns. “The pain meds should have kicked in already. You look better. Less pale.” He feels her forehead. “You don’t feel as hot.”

She winces. “Cramps.”

His face relaxes. “Oh.”

She closes her eyes. With a full belly she’s ready to pass out.

“What if…I tried to rub them out?” He says softly.

Her eyes flicker open lazily. “Please. And- my back- please.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He leans in press a kiss to her forehead.

He gently pushes her to lay down. He tugs up her shirt and pulls the waistband of her pajama pants lower.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks softly.

She slowly moves to touch, fingers almost feeling numb against her own skin as she traces just inside of her pelvic crests, and down below her belly button. His warm hands are still almost too much against her feverish skin when he reaches out. But she needs this.

He’s far too gentle.

“Harder,” she whispers, “like bread.”

He’s good at kneading bread.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“

“There’s no way you could make me feel worse than I already do. Please.”

And finally his palms and thumbs press in. She urges more, and more, and finally gets impatient and shifts his hands to press right there and- oh. It feels so good she actually moans.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” She gasps.

He grins wickedly. But doesn’t comment on any more of her breathless gasps as he digs in and finally gives her relief.

“When- you’re done,” she breathes, “gonna need- bathroom.”

He pauses, “Do you have to pee? I’m literally pressing like right on your bladder-“

“No- new pad.” Because he’s quite literally kneading the blood right out of her. Which would usually be disgusting, but right now the relief feels too good for her to care.

“Oh. Okay.” And he keeps going.

She nearly falls asleep with his hands on her stomach. She still hurts, and the pain still radiates through her bones, but the stretch of her cramping muscles is almost heavenly. She closes her eyes, and Peeta presses kisses to her shoulders, trailing down to her stomach. He rubs softly after he pulls back, hands sliding over her hips.

“You want me to do your back?” He asks softly.

She hums. He helps flip her over. His hands and fingers roam over her skin, pressing and pulling all the way up her spine and between her shoulders. She practically melts into the couch as he soothes her aches. His lips ghost over her skin in subtle kisses, and she never wants it to end.

Eventually he pulls away, tugging her shirt back down.

“Bathroom?” He asks.

She grumbles. “Don’t wanna move.”

He hums. He forces her off the couch anyways, and drags her to the bathroom. She changes things herself, and then he helps her back to the couch.

“I’m gonna eat and then we can snuggle. If you want. I can turn on the TV.”

She just grunts. He turns on the screen above their fireplace mantle, and flips through channels. He lands on a show they’ve binge watched over the years, and then leaves for the kitchen. She zones out the sounds and clatter that he makes. Finally he sits down by her feet with a bowl of soup, and her eyelids feel heavy. She drifts halfway between awake and asleep, until he curls up with her. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Thank you.” She whispers. He’s done more than enough for her. And she knows he’d do everything if he had to. And she is thankful.

“Of course.” He breathes. And pecks her lips.

She smiles, and uses the little energy she does have to snake an arm around him and hold him close. Their foreheads knock together.

“I love you.” He breathes softly.

She hums, “Love you too.”

[rainmustfallts4]

Forget Me Not… (Short Story)

Theme: Forget Me Not

Challenge/Month: Monthly Simlit Short Story/March 2023

Genre: Angst

Word/Picture Count: 1,000 words/12 pictures

Original Note: This is the first time in a long time that I’ve whipped up something for MSSS and I feel a bit rusty, to be sure. Why did this turn out as pure angst? I have no idea, that’s just where the prompt took me lol I also used Bluebells to represent Forget Me Nots because it’s the only blue flower that resembled it. The house used in this fic is “Family Farmhouse” made by eggiebabe on the gallery with a few edits to better fit the story.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ☔ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ 🍂 ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

For as long as I can remember, there has always been a baby blue flower on my bedside table every morning. I have no idea where they come from and, when I asked my mom about it, she always said that I probably put it there and just forgot about it. At first, I was adamant that I had nothing to do with it, but she insisted. After years of being told this, I started believing it myself.

Was I sleepwalking? I had no idea, but it worried me because I knew it wasn’t normal. I tried staying up to catch the culprit multiple times, but sleep always claimed me. As I got older, life started to get harder and I started to forget about them, despite still finding them every morning. I was so focused on other things that the flowers became insignificant to me. I started to ignore them and they started to pile up on the table.

And then, one day, they just stopped. The flowers disappeared and no new ones appeared in their place. I was relieved at first but then I started to feel lonely. It felt like something important was missing from my life. It drove me nuts because I couldn’t figure it out. I became obsessed with trying to remember. My grades started to slip because I skipped class. My friends got tired of asking me to hang out only for me to tell them that I was too busy.

“If you want to be alone that badly, fine!” exclaimed my friend after turning down her invite again. “It takes two people to make a friendship work and I’m tired of chasing you.”

“I never asked you to chase me!” I snapped back.

But my heart ached as she stomped away angrily. For the first time in a long time, I was officially alone and it was my own doing. Why did I say that? Why did I push all of my friends away? I didn’t have an answer and I honestly felt like I was losing my mind but that forgotten memory kept clawing at the edge of my mind. It was just out of reach and every time I got close, it slipped farther away.

Eventually, I was kicked out of university, fired from my job, and kicked out of my apartment. I had to move back in with my mom which I absolutely hated because all we did was argue about the smallest things. No matter how hard I tried, she just knew exactly what buttons to press to upset me and there’s only so much a single sim can take before they blow up.

“Do you think you can manage to clean the attic this time or do I need to ask you five more times?” questioned my mother, giving me an attitude as she headed for the front door.

“I already told you, I didn’t clean it yesterday because I got called in for a job interview,” I replied, trying to keep my annoyance hidden to avoid another fight.

“Which you didn’t even get,” she scoffed, sending me a pitying look. “Try harder.”

I waited until she was out the door before I started to curse, releasing all of my frustration into the universe so it didn’t eat away at me. I had enough of that already.

With a sigh, I headed up into the attic and got to cleaning. I don’t think anyone had been up there in decades because everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs filled every corner and I could only pray to Gleb that there were no spiders lurking in the dark corners, waiting to pounce.

A few hours passed and I was nearly done cleaning when I came across a shoe box. It was shoved into the corner, half hidden beneath an old dresser. As soon as my eyes fell on it, I felt this… overwhelming sadness wash over me and I just wanted to cry. My hands trembled as I reached for the box and it took me a minute to steel myself before I could finally open it.

Inside lay a bunch of photographs. The rubber band that had been holding them together had broken over time, leaving them scattered around the box. I picked up the first one – it was a picture of me at the park, enjoying an ice cream cone despite it being the dead of winter.

I chuckled. Even back then I loved the cold. Some things never change, I guess.

I picked up another photo – it was me and my mom mid-argument. Yeah, some things really never change.

I shook my head, reaching for the third photo – it was a young boy looking for frogs. My brow furrowed in confusion. Who is this? From that angle, I could only just see the side of his face, but that pond… it’s near my house. I used to hang out there when I was younger, talking to the frogs.

Reluctantly, I set the photo down and picked up another – it was me and the young boy, standing side by side with our arms around each other and smiles on our faces.

It hit me like a freight train. Dylan Crowley, the only kid that made an effort to befriend me. He was my best friend, my only friend. The memories came flooding back to me, bringing with them a wave of sadness and pain. I remember now… Dylan died just a couple days shy of his 12th birthday. He drowned in that pond because he jumped in to save me…

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I shakily set the photo down. There was one left and taped to it was a dried, light blue flower. The picture was the two of us again but, this time, he was giving me the flower.

My heart ached as I cried out in pain. How could I have forgotten the most important person in my life?

[harrietbarnesblog]

Prompt list; 4, 18- fluff w/ lee know

I'll take care of you.

masterpost

masterlist

pairing: lee know x reader. warning: fluff, period, crying and a little bit of angst. a/n: the prompt was “you cancelled plans for me?” and “Oh my god you never told me you could cook” and I came up with whatever I can think of. I hope you guys like this.

You got your periods yesterday and were having the most painful that you have ever experienced now. You were curled up on your sofa and haven't gotten up for anything except to use the restroom and drink water. You skipped your breakfast as you didn't feel like cooking. Your phone which was on the table rang. It was your boyfriend Minho. You picked it up.

“Hello, sunshine.” he said.

“Hi.” you said grumply.

“What happened? Are you fine?”

“It's nothing, I'm fine. Didn't you say you were gonna hang out with jisung today?” you asked about changing the topic.

“Yeah I am. I just wanted to check up on you before I leave.”

“I'm doing awesome. You stop worrying about me and enjoy your day with Han.”

“Okay, bye. I love you.”

“I love you too.” you said and hung up the call.

You threw your phone near your leg on the couch. You fell asleep somehow. Few minutes later someone rang your doorbell disturbing your sleep.

“Who the fuck is that?” you muttered to yourself. But got up and went to the door. It was Lee Know waiting patiently for you.

“Darling, are you alright? You didn't sound very good on the call so I came over.” he explained as soon as you opened the door.

“You didn't have it.” a sharp pain erupted in your stomach making hiss in pain.

“Obviously you are not fine, sunshine.” he said. He grabbed your hand and led you in closing the door behind.

“But what about your plans?” you asked.

“I cancelled them.”

“You cancelled plans for me?” you felt emotional over it and started crying over it.

“Yes I did. Oh my god, why are you crying now?”

“Because you cancelled your plans for me. Just for me. That's so cute. My stomach hurts so much. I had periods yesterday and nothing feels good.”

“Awww it's gonna be alright. Did you eat anything?”

“No.” you said, wiping away your tears.

“Come on. I'm gonna take care of you." He led you to your bedroom and helped you get into your bed.”stay here okay? I'll be back.”

You nodded your head.

He headed straight to the kitchen and got his hands on whatever ingredients he could find. He managed to cook your favourite food along with some vegetable soup. He arranged them in a trap and slowly brought them to you.

You were in awe of his act of service. You fall in love with him more and more as each day passes. He sat on the bed and placed the trap on the bedside table. He helped you get up and sit straight. He took the bowl of soup and fed it to you. He even slowly blew to cool it down so it won't be too hot for you to eat. The taste was so good and you didn't know he knew how to cook.

“Oh my god, you never told me you could cook. This is so good.”

He didn't say anything, he just laughed it off.

“There are a lot of things you don't know about me, and I intend on letting you know each and everything about me, y/n.” he said.

“You are so sweet.”

“Don't start crying again, please.” he said, wiping away the few tears that fell from your eyes.

He fed the whole soup and then the food. He washed the dishes after that and cuddled with you until you fell asleep. He was the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. Usually, he would never show his soft side to anyone but with you he was always so sweet and kind.

“You are just so cute.”

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 10 - Prompt: Good @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 568 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Remus wasn’t entirely sure what was happening to his body because his mind was on another plane entirely. It could be skipping merrily, attempting somersaults, or rolling in the grass, and he would be none the wiser. The two were no longer functioning as a combined unit.

Sirius kissed him.

He’d never been kissed like that before. At least, not that he could remember. It was only on the cheek, but still sent his mind spinning in circles. No one touched him with such care, as if he was delicate and worthy of preservation. As if he was…good.

He should feel guilty for allowing that impression, but he didn’t. If this man wanted to search his soul for a speck of goodness and cradle what he found in his impossibly soft hands, Remus would let him. He wouldn’t even correct him if what Sirius held up to the light as proof of his “goodness” turned out to be nothing more than a reflection of his mother. A hint of the man that she wanted him to be, perhaps.

I refuse to fuck this up.

Remus would be the last person on Earth to interfere in whatever this was, or what it could become. He wasn’t foolish, or stupid. A bit out of his league, but that couldn’t be helped. Sirius was speaking to him, looking at him, and now kissing him for fuck’s sake. Nothing else mattered.

He brushed his fingertips over his bruised cheek and snarked, “Suddenly, I feel so much better. You must have magic lips.”

Sirius grinned, then visibly forced himself not to respond. His lips pressed so tightly together that Remus’s fingers itched to pry them apart. He needed to know what sarcastic remark or witty retort was hiding in there.

Lily was clearly of the same mind. She tossed her plait over her shoulder and eyed Sirius expectantly. “He left the door wide open, Sirius. Are you really going to let it slam closed?”

“Yes.”

Remus faltered, dropping his hand and looking away. The back of his neck flushed with an uncomfortable prickle of heat. Sirius didn’t flirt with him like he had with Lily at the ice rink. That was twice now that Sirius avoided flirting back when it was obvious that his natural instinct was to do so.

Why the mixed messages? His interest, or lack thereof, didn’t match the tenderness of that kiss or the intimacy of their conversation yesterday. Remus wasn’t sure what to think, but he refused to give up. He had to find a way in.

“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” Lily said, folding her arms over her chest. She glanced along the shoreline, then down at Padfoot. “Mind if I take him for a walk? He’s staring at the water.”

“It’s alright, I can-”

“Great. Come along, Padfoot.” Lily tugged the leash from Sirius’s hand and clicked her tongue at the dog. Immediately, Padfoot lumbered after her with an eager grin.

Remus opened his mouth, unsure exactly what to say to navigate them back to the comfortable comraderie they’d found the day before, but hopeful that he could, when Sirius abruptly turned on his heel and chased after Lily. His words died on his tongue as he watched the bloke’s long, dark hair sway with every step. Disappointment seeped into his chest as he forced his feet to follow.

One chance. Give me one chance.

Next Part>>>

[pearlypairings]

Bb! Dealers choice on pairing but I love this idea!

Happy birthday! !

dragging them out to every restaurant or store to get the free drinks or birthday benefits

steve x kali || humor, fluff || 412 words

A/N: ty baby for the freedom to choose, because I went rogue with it and did a lil stali <3 hope you enjoy this experimental beat! it scared me to try this ship so therefore, I committed :P

yesterday's prompt

He had no idea where she was putting this batch of fried wings, smothered in a flood of Mama Delilah’s famous barbecue sauce.   Kali had started the night raiding JJ’s diner for her free birthday app, choosing fries and gravy—her usual late night go-to. She skipped the arcade birthday bonus coins for the record store discount, where she argued with the cashier for 10 minutes over who was better: Misfits or Poison. The snobbish, long-haired cashier found himself speechless as Kali clicked her jaw and clenched her rings tightly over the edge of his counter. Steve held back a laugh. He brandished the vinyl she wanted and slid some cash to the register with a charming, I’m-smoothing-this-over-so-you-don’t-end-up-bruised wink to the guy. With a loving squeeze, he corralled her under his arm, guiding her back to the car with no flashing lights or sirens, as they picked up the pieces of her very compelling, barely-avoided wrath on the unsuspecting idiot. She was delighted to discover that the next two restaurants were happy to provide her with their own special birthday drinks, and threw in a delicious chocolaty dessert to hold her over before the couple moved on to their current spot. They sat in the moodiest booth at Mama Delilah’s grill, where Steve absentmindedly stared at Kali with her basket of wings and sauce smeared on her face.   Kali wiped her face with the crumpled napkin, daring him with her eyes. “What?”  “Nothing,” Steve said, crossing his arms over the table. He leaned to get a better look at her from under the dark overhead lamp. “Having fun?”  She smacked her lips and tipped her head in agreement, mischief twinkling in her eyes.  “Good, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”  Steve grinned wide, admiring the way she stretched to get ready to head out to their next stop. She flashed her old fake ID from Chicago, sticking out her tongue playfully. It wasn’t even her actual birth date, she just wanted a day with all her favorite things for free or at least, for cheap. This was her just letting loose.  She lightly touched the back of his fingers, then casually grabbed his hand from across the table. Warm, she was always so unbelievably warm. “Ready for the pub? I hear there’s free Long Island teas there.” Kali said with a devious grin. She’d seen him drunk off LITs more times than he could actually count while drunk. There was no stopping her now. God, he couldn’t get enough of her.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 6]

Spectral Lover

TW: Ghosts, Mentions of a Murder (via Shotgun) Genre: Romance Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 0.8K Prompt: They had an unjust death, and now they haunt the house their reincarnated lover lives in

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] | [Part 2] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: Spooky season is officially here! And since I skipped 20 days of NCT for Christmas last year, what the hell, why not do spooky season instead? Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

Things have been so... boring.

Taeyong laid down in the middle of the bedroom floor, the room was devoid of anything, really, just some old floorboards and peeling wallpaper, but nothing of note. His belongings from decades ago were long moved out and sold, leaving behind this empty shell of a room. His soul was bound to this house, cursed to never move on with the nature of his death, and blessed to never bother anyone because of it.

Until today, that is. He heard the front door open, what with its creaky hinges and its partially falling-off knocker. This new owner would be like the last one, probably. He'd move a few things around, get them spooked out, and watch them move away. He didn't want trouble, he just wanted peace. He could hear the movers bringing things in and placing them on the floors, he could hear people moving up and down the old stairs and through the hallways.

Boring. Taeyong would go scare them off later, but for now he'll stay here. Then he saw the bedroom door open.

"Alright, this is the main bedroom," the mover walks in first and the new owner after. And, as soon as he saw who it was, he sat up.

"Oh, it's a lovely room," you pushed back the peeling wallpaper as if smoothening it out would set it in place. "Definitely a fixer-upper, though," you looked around, and Taeyong felt his heart stop.

Look at you, living, breathing, and reincarnated. Due to the suddenness of his death and the unfairness of it all, his soul was held back here and tied to this location forever, and the worst part of it all was seeing how you grieved, how you lived in this house alone for such a long time that he prayed that someone would come along and give you the strength to heal and that they did.

And here you were again, decades later, young and bright-eyed just how he remembered you.

"We'll go ahead and bring in your bedroom items, (Y/N), let us know if you need anything else," the mover signals his employees to come in and they start setting up your bed and dressers.

"You know, (Y/N)," one of the employers chimed, "no one stays past a year in this house," he says.

"Is that so?"

"Place is haunted, you see?"

"Really now? That's exciting," you look around again.

"Yeah, poor bloke got shot point blank here," the mover points at the wall. "Murdered cold and by his own shotgun, crazy," the mover shakes his head.

"Oh, that poor man," you frowned. "And he haunts this place?"

"Allegedly," the other mover huffs after placing the nightstand down. He brushes his hands together. "I think that's the last of it, boss."

"Did you need any assistance with anything else, (Y/N)? The boss asks. You shake your head and pat one of the boxes.

"I think I've got it from here, thank you!" You walked the movers out and, after a few minutes, you returned to the room. "Alright... I'll just unpack the bedsheets for now, and a few things so I can shower," you spoke to yourself and pulled the necessary items out. Meanwhile, Taeyong watched your movements. You placed the boxes in a way that they were in the vicinity of where its contents would be stored or displayed and you moved around in a way that just seemed so free. And slowly he felt himself falling in love again. That bitterness he felt for what he thought was eternity was slowly melting away with each tune you sang.

Then, after all was said and done, you tucked yourself into bed, and Taeyong waited until you were truly asleep before he opened the first box.

~

When you woke up the next morning you were almost scared. All of your boxes had been folded up neatly in a corner of the room and all of your items unpacked and placed into their intended areas, you were more impressed than you were scared.

In fact, Taeyong was putting the last touches on the kitchen when he heard you running down, and he was quick to drop the kettle on the floor so as to stay hidden, but when you walked into the kitchen you seemed to be looking right at him.

"A ghost... huh?" You asked absently. "Well... I suppose I don't mind a roommate," you grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Ghost, and I look forward to getting to know you a little more."

And, slowly, Taeyong felt his chest grow lighter, as if you were now helping him lift that weight. Then, you rubbed your eyes and walked toward him.

"Strange... maybe I need to sleep more, I thought I saw a shadow," you wondered aloud. Then, you walked away and back upstairs.

Did you see him? That would be the first time ever that any of the owners even saw a glimpse but that should be impossible with this curse. He can interact with things around him but no one would be ever to see him and yet, somehow, you did, even if it was just a shadow, you saw him.

Maybe you were the key to helping him move on?

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

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If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[ficnation]

Popcorn - Thor x Reader

Prompt: Popcorn

Word count: 861

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Female! Reader

Warnings: fluffy fluff, cursing

A/n: This is the short Marvel piece I’ve wrote for @the-slumberparty​ one-word warm-up :D

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ ||  ☁ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

You’ve had a bad day at work, probably the worst one ever. The company you worked for was having trouble with its budget, and the task of fixing it fell onto you, which was really frustrating. It made your job so much harder and tedious. You almost considered quitting. Almost. Because the pay was way too good to give up on so quickly. 

So when you came home that evening, you sighed deeply and kicked the door shut. You were tired as fuck. That much was clear. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about everything. Forget the large numbers displayed on the hundreds of sheets of paper on your desk, and definitely forget how your boss scoffed at you for “working too slow.”

To your surprise, your apartment smelled like burnt popcorn, and then you remembered you didn’t live alone. You paused by the entryway and peered through the darkened living room into the kitchen. There you spotted a certain someone sitting hunched over the countertop, a bowl of almost black popcorn in front of him. The view was nearly comical. 

“Almost burned the house down?” you asked, amused, crossing your arms over your chest. It would not be the first time.

Thor looked up, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled around his mouthful of popcorn. 

You raised your brow at him. There was no way that tasted good. You knew that you were right when he grimaced and swallowed noticeably. The view made you snort. Then he turned toward you and smiled again, looking very handsome and boyish in his casual, Midgard attire. He wore loose jeans and a cozy hoodie that he seemed to never part from. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing his bearded face. The urge to tuck the luscious blonde locks behind his ear was irresistible. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong. It doesn’t taste like yesterday,” Thor told you as he walked out from behind the counter. He took the popcorn bowl and tossed its content into the trash bin, mourning his failure. “I seem to attract more fire lately.”

You followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the countertop while he continued to rummage through the kitchen for food. “Oh yeah? What else have you burnt today?” you teased. All of the exhaustion disappeared from your body and mind in his presence. Just for a second, you let yourself feel carefree.

Your words seemed to make him nervous. He chuckled awkwardly before turning around and flashing you a charming smile, forgetting about the food for good. “Nothing important.”

You raised your brows, skeptical. Detecting Thor’s lies was something even a child would excel at. “Liar,” you accused with a playful scoff.

He gave you another weak smile before walking up to you and looking you up and down. Before you could register his intentions, he wrapped his arm around your waist and placed one hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You look tired, love,” he murmured into your hair, kissing your temple softly. He kissed your cheek, too, then nuzzled against your neck, breathing warm air across it. You hummed softly in response. He was great at distracting you; you had to give him that. “I am sorry I’ve burnt it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Thor. I should’ve taught you how to use the microwave a long time ago,” you murmured back, trying to keep yourself from squirming underneath his touch. His hands were strong and much bigger than yours. And god, they felt so warm even through the barrier that your shirt was. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

The Norse god grinned and nodded, pressing an affectionate kiss to your lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but it still made your cheeks warm up.

“Yes, my lady,” he agreed.

When you reached your bedroom, you immediately collapsed face down onto your bed, not bothering to take off your shoes or jacket. However, Thor felt an obligation to make you as comfortable as was physically possible.

He leaned over the bed, lifting one of your legs after the other, sliding your heels off, and leaving a soft kiss on top of each foot. You giggled quietly, feeling ticklish. It made Thor beam at you. Your laughter was his favorite sound in the entire universe. He got your jacket off, too, hanging it on the nearby chair and letting you undress the rest of the way.

You felt Thor join you within seconds, burrowing his warm body into your side and curling against you. He held you tightly and pressed his face into your shoulder, sighing contently. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to enjoy it, relaxing completely after the stressful day.

“Thor, don’t you ever burn my house down,” you mumbled into the pillow, squinting at him. 

Thor burst into a booming laugh, making you smile. “No need to fret, my sweet one. The popcorn flame will not consume this house again.”

You sighed in relief before your eyes shot open in realization. “Again?!”

@humanmistakes​ @yttricuz​ @twdeadlysins​ @donttelltheelff​ 

[raaorqtpbpdy]

I Hate Mondays

Based on the Phic Phight prompt: Danny gets caught in a time loop on the day he was supposed to die in the portal and become Danny Phantom but for some reason never entered it. He has to relive that day over and over again until he finally steps into the portal and dies. (from @ghostboidanny)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for character death (he gets better though because time loop), and descriptions of death/pain]

The life of a student was already so boring and monotonous that it was hours before Danny realized what was going on. His parents were still sulking about their portal not working. Sam and Tucker met up with him before school, and they made the same idle small talk they always did. School was the same, boring drivel it always was. Mister Lancer even gave the same exact assignment he gave them yesterday.

"Uh... Mr. Lancer?" Danny raised his hand, confused. "Isn't this the same assignment you gave us yesterday?"

"No, I only just printed these worksheets this morning," Mr. Lancer said. "I know High School must seem dreadfully repetitive, but I assure you if you actually pay attention, it's more more tolerable."

Danny shrugged and filled out the worksheet, but he could swear it was exactly the same as the day before. He was looking forward to lunch though. It was Tuesday, and on Tuesdays, the cafeteria had pizza. It was school pizza, but still. However, when he got to the cafeteria, there was no pizza in sight. Instead, there were sloppy joes again, even though that was the Monday menu.

"Hey, how come there's no pizza?" Danny asked the lunch lady when he got to the front of the line.

"Today is Monday, and on Monday, we serve sloppy joes."

"No, yesterday was Monday," Danny disagreed, but she just urged him to take his food and go through the line. When he sat down at his usual table with Sam and Tucker he asked them about it, but they confirmed that it was definitely Monday. Perhaps yesterday had just been a dream. He'd never had a dream so realistic and mundane before, but he'd heard of things like that happening.

He and his friends went to hang out at his house after school, and just like in his dream, they ended up in the lab, next to the non-functioning portal.

"Hey Danny, you should go inside and check it out," Sam suggested, and Danny was getting some serious Déjà vu. He told her the same thing he did in his dream.

"No way! That thing is unstable and unsafe. You see all those exposed wires, I could get electrocuted," he said. "Besides, it doesn't work, anyway. What would be the point in going into a big metal murder tube?"

"Boo!" Sam heckled, but she didn't push him further. Technically, they weren't even supposed to be down in the lab, but as long as they adhered to proper lab safety, his parents wouldn't get mad at them.

The next day, Danny woke up, and everything was the same once again. For the third time, Lancer handed him the same grammar worksheet, and the cafeteria was serving sloppy joes, and Sam tried to get him to go into the non-functioning portal, and he refused. The next day was the same, and the next day as well. The day after that, Danny skipped school and went to the movies. It was supposed to be Saturday anyway, and one day of cutting school wouldn't kill him, even if time moved on the next day.

Another week later, Danny had seen all the movies showing at the local theater, even the stupid animated movie for little kids about a talking frog. It was okay. No matter how many times he skipped school, he never got in trouble because it was still Monday, and no time had passed. He went to the mall, to the museum, to the skate park.

He'd stopped paying too much attention to his surroundings. No matter who he talked to, none of them seemed to be stuck in the same loop of Mondays that he was. The first time he died was on the way home from the skate park. He got hit by a school bus.

At first, he felt pressure, then nothing, too numb with shock. In a haze of disorientation and probably brain damage, all he could see was a splatter of red on the yellow paint, blood pooling beneath him. The the sensations flooded him, like a fire through his bones and needles in his lungs as he choked on his own blood. He heard yelling, then only the ringing in his ears. He smelled metal, then nothing. Everything went black.

Then he woke up in his bed, and it was still Monday morning. His parents were still moping about their portal not working. His sister was still telling them that obsessing over ghosts wasn't healthy and they should find some more realistic interests. Dying had shaken him to his core. For the first time in weeks, he went to school. It was good to really hang out with Sam and Tucker again. They never wanted to skip with him, so the three of them hadn't done all that much together in a while.

It was another few Mondays before Danny stopped being rattled by his death, and was once more overwhelmed by the monotony of his life. He hadn't showered in a month, but he still smelled fresh, because he'd taken one Sunday night, ages ago. He didn't have to clean his clothes, or do dishes.

He'd started teaching himself to draw. He wasn't good at it yet, but he had nothing but time. He'd spent probably thousands of hours on the online NASA space shuttle flight simulator. Anything he could think to do to fill the time, he did. He lost track of how many Mondays it had been.

After so many months of the same damn Monday, Danny started to lose it. He already knew that dying wouldn't break the loop, so he started trying dangerous stunts, just to see what they would feel like. Falling fifty stories actually felt really cool, up until he went splat on the sidewalk, but at least that had been a quick death. Drinking Windex just to see if it tasted like Powerade had totally not been worth it.

Every once in a while, when life got too crazy, like when he'd made himself a bazooka out of scraps from his parents lab, then held up a bank for an hour before being gunned down by police, he would go back to school. He would eat a sloppy joe, and spend time with Sam and Tucker, and after school, they would go hang out at his house, and they'd go to his basement to see the portal his parents had made that never worked, no matter how many Mondays passed by.

"Hey Danny, you should go inside and check it out," Sam suggested for maybe they fiftieth time.

Danny remembered all the times he'd called it a murder tube in the past. Somehow, after over a year of Mondays, he found he didn't care if it was. He could go inside and die of electrocution, and he'd still wake up in his bed, and it would be Monday morning again. "Yeah, alright," he agreed, and changed into his jumpsuit.

Sam stopped him before he went inside to peel the Jack Fenton decal off his chest. He went a few steps in and let Sam take her picture, even though it was pointless, and it would be gone by morning, never having been taken in the first place. He went deeper in, stepping over the wires on the floor. There was a button inside the portal, and Danny, not thinking or caring about the consequences, pushed it.

Danny had experiences dozens of deaths by this point, but none of them had been anywhere near as painful as the one he experienced when the portal activated with him inside. Millions of volts shot through him as an inconceivably huge energy surge tore open a hole between one dimension and the next, right through Danny. He could feel his atoms ionizing, his molecules getting scrambled, his blood evaporating in his veins. He had no idea how long it was before the pain suddenly vanished.

Danny kept his eyes squeezed shut. He was in his bed again, and his parents were downstairs moping because their portal didn't work, and his sister was telling them to grow up and abandon their fanciful notions of ghosts. And no matter how many times he lived today, he would never, ever go into that portal again.

"Danny?" That was Sam's voice. Sam had never been in his room before. His bed was hard. Where... what? "Danny, holy shit, are you... okay?" Finally, Danny opened his eyes, but he wasn't in his room. He was still in the lab. The lights had one out, but everything was cast in a strange, eerie glow.

"What's... going on?" Danny asked, putting a hand to his head. His eyes strayed to his reflection in the glass windows of a cabinet. "Is that... me?" His hair had turned white, and his eyes glowed green. The black and white of his jumpsuit had been inverted.

"Don't freak out, but... we think you might be a ghost," Tucker told him.

"I can't be a ghost," Danny said. "I... there's...." He wanted to say there was no such thing as ghosts but, he was floating. He clearly wasn't human anymore. "It's okay," he said. "This is new, but I'm sure everything will be fine. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake up in bed, and it'll be Monday again, and I'll be human again, and neither of you will even remember this."

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Sam asked. "This isn't the time for jokes, we have to figure out what's going on." Danny turned to look at her, and caught sight of the portal behind her.

"The portal... it's working," he observed, shocked.

"Yeah," Tucker said. "It turned on while you were inside and then you came out looking like that." Danny didn't notice he was hovering toward it until Tucker told him, "Hey, don't go back in!"

"Oh! Sorry, I just... it feel like it's drawing me in or something," Danny said. He tried to stop, but couldn't. The portal pulled him closer and closer. He heard his friends calling his name, but he ignored them as the toxic green portal swallowed him.

On the other side was a citadel, full of floating gears and other clock pieces.

"I'm sorry, Daniel," said an unfamiliar voice behind him. He turned to see a very old man with blue skin and a purple cloak, holding a staff. "I wish that things could be different, but you had to die."

"I died plenty of times," Danny pointed out. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

"You had to go into that portal. You had to die there. I'm sorry, but the world needs you like this."

"Sucks for the world, then, because I'm just gonna be back to normal next time I wake up," Danny said. The old ghost sighed, and waved his staff, and Danny was back in his parents' lab. "Come on," he turned to Sam and Tucker, "Let's get out of here. That portal is giving me the creeps."

Danny couldn't sleep, now that he was a ghost, but he'd tried staying up before. At the stroke of midnight, the loop would restart, and he'd be back in bed, waking up on Monday morning. Midnight came and went, and time moved on, moved forward. It didn't reset. Danny didn't reset. He was still there, still dead, still a ghost. There was no turning back.

[gladiatorofthevoid]

Rise April Art Challenge: Day 7 Nonsense

Prev - Next - Masterpost

Ao3 link: here

(I was sick yesterday, so I had to skip that day’s prompt. I might try again at the end of the month. Please enjoy.)

The sound of fake lasers and explosions are just barely audible from Leo’s spot on the couch. It’s late and he doesn’t want to keep anyone up with the sounds of Jupiter Jim’s saving the world. Besides he’s watched this movie so many times he can resight it by heart.

It’s just getting into another of the long action seance since when his phone’s alarm starts blaring. Leo feels himself slip into doctor mode the second he hears it. The slider stands, shutting off the alarm, and heading to Mikey’s room.

His littlest brother, for all his claims that he can take care of himself, had decided to razzmatazz a little too hard and had ended up with a concussion. Leo had taken on the responsibility of waking the little orange one up every few hours. His insomnia was acting up again anyways, so it wasn’t so bad.

Entering the room, Leo blinked when he saw the empty bed. There was a moment of panic, before he turned and saw him on the other side of the room staring at the wall above his bed. It, like the rest of the room, was covered in bright colors and paint. But there was nothing more than that. Leo walked over to his brother and squatted next to him.

“Hey, bud. What you doing?” Mikey turned to him; eyes unfocused but with a soft smile.

“I’m tracking the goldfish.” He slurred. Leo blinked. Ok, that wasn’t great.

“Ok... I’m going to ask you some questions, alrighty?” Mikey nodded. “Ok, what year is it?” His little brother paused for a moment, then turned to Leo with absolute confidence and said:

“The one that’s bee like, but without the pink sickness.” There was silence, then...

“Oh, boy Mike. This is worse than I thought.” Mikey blinked and stared at his brother before continuing with his concussed rambling.  

“Do you think that you can see lines that have never been there? Or will never be?” Yeah, Leo needs to stay with Mikey till the others wake up.

“I don’t know.” Leo answers, deciding that he can deal with a little nonsense while he waits for everyone to wake up.  

“I don’t think I can. But Donnie can see jumps even when nothing moves so maybe we can if we look the right way.” Leo just nods and leans against the wall.

The next few hours are filled with Mikey talking about a whole range of topics. Some of which Leo can’t understand even a little, things like: bell heads, blanket laws, the power of purple elephants. But some of the things that are mentioned are worrying. Like when he says that Leo should never ever be called Green, with a look of such fear and grief on his face. Or when he whippers that he doesn’t want to crack into dust. It thankfully doesn’t last long, because he’s always running off on another tangent by the time Leo is trying to sort out what is being said.  

In a few hours the rest of the family will be up to help, and in a few days, Mike will be right as rain and when Leo brings up what he said the younger will just be confused and say that he can’t remember saying anything like that. After that, it will fade from their memories and will never be thought of again.

Prev - Next - Masterpost

Ao3 Link: Here

Please check out @zee-rambles who came up with this challenge. And take a look at @rise-april-art-challenge for other submissions. Please give feedback if I need to work on something.

[eldritchazure]

It’s Day 6 of Dominionweek!! I skipped yesterday because I was absorbed in crocheting, but I’m back now!! Enjoy today’s prompt, which is Sacrifice!!

•••

Everything had happened so quickly.

There had been sudden movement, a flash of metal in the sun, and Lizaan barely registered that he was throwing himself in front of the Founder as a shot rang out. Everything had moved so fast that it made his head spin. Or perhaps that was the blood loss.

Lizaan was now laying flat on the ground, the marble floor cold against his back. The back of his head hurt a bit from the fall. But that pain was quickly overshadowed by the burning in his chest. He lifted the hand he had pressed against it and saw it was stained a darker purple than usual. It must’ve been a projectile weapon as opposed to a phaser, then. Phaser wounds didn’t bleed, they cauterized. He wheezed a bit and his hand fell back. For all the burning in his chest, the rest of his body was awfully cold.

Lizaan’s gaze drifted up and he saw the Founder looking down on him dispassionately, haloed by the alien sun above. His lips twitched up a little as familiar wonder bubbled up inside of him, delirium and shock causing him to liken the image above him to the ones he had seen in photos of stained glass windows in the human temples, displaying their false gods and prophets. Was that blasphemy? That was probably blasphemy. He should stop, immediately.

Lizaan wondered if the projectile weapon would’ve been able to even injure the Founder, but he found that didn’t care. 

That didn’t matter. What mattered was that nothing should so much as attempt to harm a Founder, and it was Lizaan’s job to ensure that.

He let a strange calm settle over his mind and muddle his thoughts. He was deaf to the panic and commotion from the crowd. As his consciousness began to drift away, he could’ve sworn he heard a quiet, toneless voice in the back of his mind.

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Lizaan let his eyes fall shut.

“Rest now.”

Lizaan did.

[papercutsunset]

Gold and Steel

Listen-- PMS has been kicking my ass and I forgot to edit this yesterday. Even now, I'm hunched over because (glitter here) the nausea's back. BUT!! The Bloodsaw brainrot is also back. This would take place right before Tunnels of Terror. (Also, peep the Harrison Bergeron mention. Remember how Bloodsaw died protecting him and then he died of [redacted]?)

WIP: The Monster Lesbian Support Group

Word count: 998

Prompt: Sex (didn't use it much. It's more implied)

Warnings: some homophobia stuff (mentions. it's 1997.)

Sitting on the edge of the bed with her sweater undone, Laura fumbles the chain of her cross. Putting it back around her neck is always an issue of fingers on lobster claws and chewed-down nails aching. She isn’t the one who needs to wash her hands, anyway. 

I would consider doing it for her, but I’m not sure why she wears it. It’s not faith. She told me that months ago, sitting on the hood of my car in a secluded spot by the edge of the lake where nobody could see us.

I know why, I suppose. It’s not a question worth asking. Appearances need to be kept up, right? Laura Mandarin needs to be the pristine, god-fearing former-high-school-cheerleader as much as Caroline Bradshaw needs to be the opposite. They would blame the fry cook at the Dairy Prince for corrupting such a vulnerable girl as Laura Mandarin. Never mind that all this was her idea. I know how the blame game works. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s a small thing, the cross. Delicate. Gold. Treasured. She got it when she was twelve, back in Pine Valley. How fitting, compared to the steel up my ears and in my eyebrow. 

I toy with the edge of the curtain, propped up on one elbow by the window. The plaster is crumbling again. It’s a side effect of living in this shitty second-floor-apartment with a shittier landlord in an even shittier town. I fucking hate this place. 

The only question worth asking, while I shrug my bra and shirt back on, is, “Do you need a ride?” 

She takes her hair out of the back of her sweater and lets the blonde waterfall cascade down white polyester. “Don’t you have to get to work?” 

“Don’t answer my question with a question.” 

Laura looks at me over her shoulder, eyes connecting across every plane of existence. “I don’t need a ride.” 

“Alright.”

“But I’d like one.” 

My heart skips a beat. I’m not going to admit it. “I’ll drive you home, then.” 

“Will you help me?” She holds up the cross, dangling from the gold chain, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

You could call me hypnotized. It’s a moment of intimacy in the dark of a room in the morning, a moment of intimacy before we go back to acting like nothing ever happened, a moment of hands brushing hair from her neck so I don’t catch it in the clasp. 

She’s the perfect picture of America. Not late-nineties-hip, but pure. Skirt down past her knees when she pulls it back down, sweater neat and tucked in, cross hanging delicately around her collar. It’s like these moments together that make things feel right: her hands in my hair, tangling black snarls around slender fingers, rings cast on the floor, the sheets tousled and left as askew as us. 

I move her hair back into place and lean around her, the snake around Eve’s torso. “You know, I don’t have to get to work for another hour.” 

She giggles when my fingers brush her chin. I melt in turn. But, in the way the routine dictates, she shimmies away. “I have to get home. You know my dad worries.” 

“He still thinks you’re seeing some guy named Bloodsaw.” 

“Yeah, and he isn’t stoked.” Laura stands, smooths out her skirt. When she turns around, she leans down over me with her hands squarely where she had been sitting. “But I am.” 

She plants a quick kiss on my mouth before I turn my legs and get out of bed, stretch myself out, and stare the day in front of me down the barrel. It’s a routine I’m used to. I wash my hands in the kitchen sink. Breakfast is peaches-and-cream oatmeal and toast with cream cheese. She does her makeup in the bathroom; I put on pants before we leave; she only entwines her fingers with mine when we’re alone in the hall or the stairwell. I’ll take what I can get, even if I want more. 

I drive her home to the sound of the scat station on the radio. We mostly listen to it as a joke, a merit patch for living here. It goes by all too quickly, and then we’re at her father’s— and then her hand is gone from my leg, and she’s out on the curb. 

She leans down to look at me through the window, hair falling to frame her face. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I’ll see you at the party later, right?” 

Right. That dumbfuck rich kid tunnel party I explicitly wasn’t invited to. I swallow. “Yeah, sure. I have to work, though, so I might be late.” 

“That’s fine. As long as you’re there.” She assesses my face, reads something I didn’t mean to write there. “I want you there, you know.” 

“I know. I’ll try.” It’s a promise I don’t mean to make. It rests on my tongue, anyway. 

“Good.” Her grin is May sunshine; I wish she would kiss my cheek. “Maybe we can sneak off, if we’re careful.” 

I can’t hold back a soft laugh. “With all your preppy friends around?” 

“Oh, Care. I know you like cheap beer, and there’s going to be plenty. Harrison promised.” 

Harrison, that fucker. Laura captivates me, though. That’s the issue with having a girlfriend you would do anything for. “Fuck. Fine. Okay.” 

Another ray through the clouds, lips wide over perfect white teeth. “Good! I’ll see you there.” 

She takes my hand in hers— gold-painted nails on steel rings through the window of a car I know is going to break down later. The blame game doesn’t work here. This is a moment where she didn’t watch her last boyfriend die; this is a moment where I don’t kill demons because angels told me to. There’s no blood on our hands and faces. It’s just us.

I want so desperately, it hurts. “I’ll see you there.” 

[rinatthemin]

I am now seeing that I didn't do one single thing about yesterday's flash fiction prompt correctly. 😂 I already knew I'd exceeded the word limit, but there was also a whole formatting procedure I didn't follow at all. Not to mention I haven't reread it yet but I'm pretty sure the ending is incoherent word salad because I was hurriedly rushing off to go play D&D at 7:30, so there'll probably be some extensive edits and a second draft of that one at some point.

That said, I'm very glad I did this exercise anyway! I think I want to take on a lot more mini-projects like this where the primary goal is a quick turnaround and a finished product. When I'm on a completely unconstrained timetable I often spend so much time agonizing over perfecting the details that nothing ever gets done. Pretty sure I'm going to keep learning this lesson over and over again but it turns out constraints and deadlines really are a great tool for getting moving!

It's a lesson that hits especially close to home because I chose on a whim that Ira Green and Daniel Mori would be the subjects of this piece, and from that whim came what is literally my first "finished" (not counting edits) work featuring both of them. Much like Yuzefhira and Tasimhari, they're characters I've had in my head and my Google Docs since 2019, but over the years I got so absorbed in planning and making bulleted lists and cataloguing details that there was little to no actual prose happening. Granted a lot of it was growing pains with worldbuilding and trying to figure out the setting they inhabit, as this was before my Ens and Naught universe started fully taking shape, but once all that was set up I had very little excuse left not to get on with it.

Not all of the overplanning was necessarily a waste of time, I think yesterday's story was able to get done as quickly as it did in part because I already had that detailed mental map of their backstories, the people they knew, the places they lived, and a lot of getting the prose down was just writing down those facts as they came up. But the writing process wasn't just a static reciting of old information either, it was also a process of discovery where I learned new things about them and now have new or even just improved and refined details to carry forward into future work.

Timeline-wise, the little vignette I wrote is situated closer to what I'd consider the "end" of their story, skipping over everything about how they met and what brought them to where they are at the end of the war. Yet even from this, writing about their ending has given me new and more solid ideas about where they started, and I'm excited to wind the clock back and start filling things in.

[wwooyology]

Light In The Dark | J.YH

「prompt」 : save me 「pairing」 : bsf!yunho x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1k

「synopsis」 : all of your silent pleas for help went unnoticed, and you were almost ready to just give up—until yunho showed up. seeing that something is wrong, he hopes to show you the light once more and answer your cry for someone to save you.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : mentions of depression and suicide, bullying, family issues, crying, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : god this is late, and I apologize I got busy over the weekend and was pretty hung over yesterday to even attempt to write this

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

The world seemed to be against you; nothing ever went right, and when it did, it only lasted for a limited amount of time. Work has been working you to the bone without the proper pay, and you know that you will lose your job if you refuse. You couldn’t afford that. With it being so close to midterms, you have been studying nonstop but to no avail because you felt like you flunked every single test. Then, with everything going on, your best friend, who was away on an internship, was so busy that he wasn’t able to talk all of the time like he used to, and you were about to bug him.

Now, most of this was just surface-level problems that you knew would more than likely get better over time. However, they were just the cherry on top of your other issues. Ever since Yunho left, the bullying seemed to increase ten-fold, with relentless teasing or snide comments. Some of them were even bold enough to get physical; you had to get gum out of your hair three times in the past two weeks. Your parents weren’t any help, telling you that you were an adult and needed to handle things like an adult, all while giving your older brother all of the things he asked for.

It was all starting to take a toll on your mental health, and you just wanted it all to stop.

At first, none of your friends caught on, but after the first week, they started to notice a shift in your attitude. They all just brushed it off as you missed Yunho. It wasn’t until your friend, Sana, came over to your apartment to check on you that she noticed that something was severely wrong.

You didn’t answer the door with the normal level of excitement that you normally would when any of your friends came over. It was quite the opposite, really. Sana had to convince you to even let her inside. Then, the moment she walked into the apartment, she felt her stomach drop. It was eerily clean. There wasn’t a single thing out of place; it was too clean if you asked her.

“I didn’t see you at school yesterday and got a little worried,” Sana told you as she followed behind you into the kitchen and you just shrugged.

“I wasn’t feeling good, so I just skipped.” Your voice was bland, lacking even an ounce of emotion, which worried Sana even more, especially when she noticed the lack of food in your fridge or pantry.

“Y/n, are you okay?” she asked, sitting down at the bar top. You turned to look at her with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“I’m fine, just stressed with work and midterms, " you told her, and any other person would have believed you, but Sana has known you for just about as long as Yunho has.

She tried to press you for more info without causing you to snap, but she didn’t get a thing by the time she had to leave for her own classes, leaving you alone in the apartment once more.

That’s when she called Yunho, knowing he was the only one that would be able to help you.

–

It was close to two in the morning when you finally decided to set yourself free, so you sat on your bed, your notebook and pen in hand. You didn’t want to write letters to those who wouldn’t really care even after you’re gone. So you just wrote one single letter to the person that you cared the most about.

Yunho.

–

As soon as Yunho got the call from Sana that something was wrong, he dropped everything and started making his way back to you. However, it seemed that the universe was trying everything it possibly could to slow him down.

But despite all of the things that happened, he made it back to your apartment, using the spare key that you had given him to get into the apartment.

You were completely unaware of his presence, still sitting on your bed, finishing off the letter you were writing. Then the door slammed open, nearly making you jump out of your skin when it harshly hit the wall behind it.

Looking up, your eyes went wide when you found Yunho standing there, a look of panic on his face as he stared at you. Neither of you said a word as he walked into the room, his eyes flickering down to the paper that was in your hands.

“Y/n…” His voice was soft as he realized what it was that was in your hands just by skimming over a small part of it.

Tears involuntarily filled your eyes as you averted your gaze. A small ‘I’m sorry’ fell from your lips. The last thing you were expecting was for Yunho to come home, and the guilt of what you were just about to do came crashing down on you.

Yunho didn’t say a word as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you and grabbed the notebook from your hands. He sat it to the side before pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame.

“Don’t ever apologize for hurting.” He whispered softly into your ear as you started to cry in his arms, hands gripping his shirt tightly.

All of the emotions from the past few weeks finally came out as you cried, and you cried for what felt like hours, but Yunho left your side. He waited until you cried until you could anymore before asking what was wrong, and you told him everything. He listened to everything before telling you that you would never be alone and he would be damned if you ever got treated like that again while he was around.

His sweet words made you start crying once more until you inevitably cried yourself to sleep. Yunho looked at you fondly as he brushed a few strands of hair from your eyes while you slept. He then went back down to your kitchen to grab a glass of water and sat it on your nightstand before laying down next to you because he was adamant about keeping his promise.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.