#this was my 'white whale' fic that I struggled to write

[3dprintcess]

Spaceship Greg [AO3]

M/M, Explicit, 77k words, Taskmaster UK sci-fi AU, fandom-blind friendly.

A sci-fi space fic where Greg is a spaceship, and Alex is an escaped, drug-chemist, slave. They have a bad time, finding comfort in each other.

After decades of indentured servitude on Al Murray’s private moon, Alex has made a break for it – scrambling through a junkyard in a desperate bid for freedom. He’s terrified, bleeding, and fears a laser blast in his back at any moment, but he would never in a million years expect to literally stumble upon a half-junked spaceship from the war in need of a name, a purpose, and most of all, a friend.

He reaches out his hand, and carefully wipes away years and years of dust from the cold metal surface – feeling the engraving rippling on his fingertips. The plaque reads “Geran Republic 3Ө, Stellar Monitor Warship” There’s a date too – which seems to be the commission date – forty-three years ago.

“Can I call you Greg?”

Animated gif commissioned from the incomparable @debbie-sketch. Absolutely beautiful, such soft warm colours, and has a bit of an Iron Giant vibe! They were a delight to work with <3

[kiss-me-cill-me]

could you write a fic about any cillian character, of ur choice, were its the readers first time and he is really sweet and gentle? Luv your writings btw!!!

Any character, you say...? 👀 Well, then I guess it's time to take a shot at my white whale. I love zombies, I love 28 Days Later, and I love Jim. I have been somewhat avoiding writing for him because I didn't feel like I had any strong concepts for a fic, and I struggle to get his "voice" right in my head for the dialogue. But gosh darn it, the world needs more Jim fics. And I feel like this prompt just fits him. Thank you for the request, anon, and for giving me the push I needed!

Morning Light

Pairing: Jim (28 Days Later) x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: In a rare moment of peace in a strange new world, you and Jim find comfort in each other's arms.

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity (for reader, not Jim), oral (f receiving), praise, brief mention of past attempted sexual assault (basically what happens in canon), for the purposes of this fic we're gonna pretend that Jim doesn't get shot in the stomach lmao

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Jim’s lips taste like something you can’t quite put your finger on. Whatever it is, it has you swooning. Dizzy with desire as you inhale; trying to steady your breath while your hand trails down over his bare chest.

“We really don’t have to,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”

You lean in for another kiss. Bodies pressed so tightly together, laying on the rickety little bed in the tiny cottage you now call home, you truly do want nothing more. Jim, stretched lazily out beneath you, brings a hand up to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your senses swell with that scent, whatever it is, and your eyes flutter closed against the light that streams in through the windows.

“Are you sure?” he asks, pulling away again, just enough to speak.

His nose still brushes softly against yours, and his thumb trails over your cheek. You feel yourself melt deeper into his touch, almost too distracted to remember to respond.

“I’m sure.”

“But… really? So soon after…”

You know what he’s about to say. What he doesn’t want to remember; choosing instead to let himself trail off as he smooths his fingers over your jawline. But that - that horrible thing that almost happened - is all part of the reason why you want Jim so badly. You want your first time to be with him. To be special; with someone you truly care for. 

Years and years ago, when all of your friends had been so desperate to grow up and run headfirst into their sexuality, you had been content to wait. But now, things have changed. Being alive suddenly feels fragile and impermanent, and your dangerous encounter with the soldiers has taught you that life doesn’t wait for you. Nor does it wait for that perfect moment.

Although, this moment here with Jim does feel somehow perfect. Jim’s body against yours is warm, and even with both of your sweaters flung over the side of the bed, you feel a heat washing over your chest as Jim wraps his strong arms around you a little tighter.

“Jim, are you really the nervous one here?” You laugh, your voice a bit airy and high as it betrays your own nerves.

“M’not nervous,” he scoffs. “I’m just… I don’t want to hurt you, or force you into anything.”

You let your body sink into his. Jim pulls you even closer, pressing your weight into his chest. Your forehead rests lightly against his, noses still touching as you laugh again.

“Girl gets you naked in bed like this, and you still think you’re forcing her?” you tease.

“Well, fair.” Jim relents. “You were the one who took off my clothes.”

Jim nuzzles into another kiss as he speaks, breaking some of the tension and making you clutch at his chest. This time, his lips linger against yours a little longer, parting just slightly so the tip of his tongue can dart out. You feel the ache inside of you deepen, your body calling out to his.

“But you’re sure, though?” Jim asks again. He moves his hand to your shoulder, steadying you. “You do want to? We don’t have t-”

His words are cut off by your hand drifting lower, until your fingers are wrapped tightly around him. Despite Jim’s insistence that you don’t “have to,” it’s abundantly clear that he wants to.

His skin is like silk under your fingers. Your hand moves slowly up and down, coaxing him on as you bite at his lip. Jim breaks the kiss to lean his head back into the pillow, eyes still shut as an expression of bliss overtakes his features.

“Okay - you’re sure you haven’t done this before?” he jokes, one blue eye cracking open to look at you.

You try to contain a laugh.

“Don’t flatter me,” you tease back. “It’s probably just been months since you’ve gotten any…”

“Ouch, insulting my masculinity and yet she still expects me to fuck her.”

Jim meets your sly look with one of his own, just as your expression crumbles into embarrassment. His smirk quickly turns into a smile, seeing the effect his words have.

“And she likes a little dirty talk, does she?”

Your face heats up even more, and Jim kisses the tip of your nose. 

“Sorry, love. Just can’t resist teasin’ ya,” he hums.

Despite your inexperience, you feel certain that you’re not supposed to feel this flustered. But, Jim has that effect on you. He always has. The pressure that’s been steadily building between your legs suddenly feels even more uncomfortable.

“Having second thoughts?” Jim laughs as you wriggle against him.

“You wish,” you challenge, pressing your nose against his a bit harder.

Suddenly, Jim grabs your waist and flips you over, so that his weight is pressed over you. He sinks a kiss into the hollow of your neck - still gentle, but with a hint of lust now that’s becoming impossible to ignore.

“Guess I might as well just give in if y’want it so badly,” Jim whispers, his breath fanning hot against your chest.

His words send a thrill of excitement through you; bursting out from your lungs and rushing all the way down to your toes. You bring your hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he pulls away from you. You’re confused for a moment, until he looks up into your eyes as he sinks lower down your body.

“How’s this?” Jim starts. “First I’ll eat you out, an’ then we can see how you’re feeling.”

The air seems to catch in your throat, but you nod. Jim plants a soft kiss on your stomach before drifting lower, hands parting your legs so that he can settle in.

“Lucky me,” Jim says, taking a long look at you. “Pretty face and a pretty pus-”

“Jim!” you cry, covering your face with your hands.

He kisses the inside of your leg, teasing with a gentle nip of his teeth.

“Ah, don’t get all shy on me, now,” he murmurs.

You look down to see a devilish glint in Jim’s eyes, staring back up at you. They’re so blue, you think you could drown in them. But, you fight to shake yourself out of the trance.

“It’s hard not to when you’re… looking at it,” you complain, laughing nervously.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed - I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks burn hotter than ever as Jim continues.

“Every part of you is beautiful.”

He kisses your leg again, and before you have a chance to respond, his lips have moved over your core, and you gasp. Jim’s mouth is warm and wet; his tongue pressed flat against you as he gives you a moment to get used to the sensation. It’s so different from anything you’ve ever felt. Of course, you had touched yourself there before - but Jim’s tongue is nothing like the rough pads of your fingers. It’s so soft, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress, prompting a low creak from the ancient bedframe.

Jim’s tongue moves just a centimeter, brushing up against your clit as he sucks gently into his mouth. You can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you, or the way your fingers grab onto the bed sheets, fabric bunching up in your grip. 

“How’s that feel, love?” Jim asks, breaking away.

“It’s… wow,” you answer, already a little out of breath.

“Rave reviews,” Jim jokes, smile creeping back over his face. “Tell all your friends, yeah?”

You have half a mind to shove him, if only you could find the willpower to reach down between your legs. As it is, all you can do is let out another breathy sigh. Your body feels strangely heavy, and you use every ounce of your strength to move your hips down toward him.

“Jim… more,” you plead.

You expect him to make another quip, but instead, you feel his tongue press against you again, the fan of his breath tickling you as he sighs happily. Your fingers curl, and your back arches. One of Jim’s hands comes up to find yours, peeling your fingers out from the blankets so that they can intertwine with his. You squeeze his hand, feeling yourself grow more and more desperate as the swirl of new sensations overwhelm you.

“J-Jim-”

You barely get to start your sentence before the pleasure reaches its peak, washing over you like the rays of soft sunlight still pouring in through the windows. Your sharp cry turns into a gasp, breath hitching as your whole body seems to buzz. Jim’s hand in yours anchors you, as his lips kiss you gently through your release.

When he sits up, Jim’s face is just a bit too smug.

“What are you smiling at?” you groan, throwing your head back into the pillow to stare up at the ceiling.

“Making you feel good,” Jim answers sincerely.

He kisses his way back up your body, finally pressing his lips to your shoulder and leaving another small bite.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

You sigh, letting all of the air leave your lungs. The pause lingers for a brief moment before you answer.

“Like I’m floating.”

“That good, huh?”

You can practically hear the smirk in Jim’s voice. Weakly, you bat at his arms.

“Don’t get all cocky,” you warn.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Jim really is unbearable. You look at each other for a moment, Jim’s eyes fixed intently on your face, while you can still hardly focus on what’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Still want to keep going?” Jim asks you.

“Mmmm,” you sigh, nodding your head.

Jim’s hand slides down to cup your sex, one finger brushing against your entrance. He leans up to kiss you properly, pausing at the feel of your tongue in his mouth as you press past his lips. Whatever you had tasted there before was gone; replaced by your own slightly tangy arousal. Jim groans, and a deep hum fills your mouth.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he whispers.

But as soon as he pushes past your resistance, you know there’s no chance of you stopping him. The stretch is too good. You’ve done this before to yourself, too - but your fingers are slender compared to Jim’s. His fill you up and have you nearly seeing stars as you cling to him, moving to grasp his arms for support.

“Feels good?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The stretch only stings a little bit, and you’re so wet you barely even notice. The pleasure takes over as Jim pumps in and out of you, coating his finger with your slick.

“One more,” you beg.

“Be patient,” Jim scolds, as he continues to slowly work you open. “Try to relax a bit more.”

You do; letting your body settle down onto the mattress. As you relax your muscles, trying to focus again on your steady breathing, Jim kisses the edge of your jaw.

“Okay,” he says. “Tell me if this is too much.”

Despite your best attempts to loosen up, the addition of a second finger is just a bit painful, stretching you beyond anything you’ve felt before. You jump, a little surprised, then relax into the feel of it.

“Still alright?”

“Mmm-hm,” you reply, breathing slowly out through your nose.

“Good,” Jim breathes. “Doing so well for me, love.”

His words make you melt, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers. Jim lets out a low moan.

“Fuck,” he laughs. “You’re gonna feel amazing. Can’t wait ‘til you’re wrapped around me.”

There’s that familiar heat on your face, rushing in as Jim makes your whole body burn with his words yet again. Not as filthy as before, but somehow the genuine lust in his voice is even worse. You feel him yearning for you; still pressed hard against your leg as he patiently stretches you out. You tilt your head back into the pillows, silently begging him to kiss your neck, and Jim’s lips press over your pulse.

“Jim?” you sigh.

“Hm?”

“Can you please stop stalling and fuck me now?”

You feel Jim smirk against your neck, clearly enjoying the fact that you have a dirty mouth, too - when you want to. He presses one more kiss to your collarbone.

“Stalling, am I? First time I’ve heard a girl call it that.”

Jim laughs, briefly, and you feel his breath fan over you again.

“I’d ask if you’re sure you’re ready,” he taunts. “But I really don’t think I’ve ever made anyone this wet before.”

You’re so turned on you almost forget to be embarrassed, but the feeling of Jim shifting to line up with your entrance is enough to make that burning heat creep over your cheeks again.

“Are you ready, though?” Jim asks, kissing you quickly before pulling back to let you answer.

“I am.”

You reach up to wrap your arms tight around him again as he sinks into you, pressing forward inch by inch. Your eyes widen by the time he’s halfway in, shocked at how it just keeps going. Jim feels your hesitation and stops.

“Everything alright?” he pants. Clearly, Jim is having a bit of trouble composing himself, too.

“It’s fine,” you reply. “Just… big.”

Jim laughs, a little more strained than usual as your walls press all around him.

“You’ll really have to stop stroking my ego like that if you want this to last more than five minutes, love,” he teases.

“Jim…” you start to complain.

“I know, I know. ‘Shut up and fuck me,’ she says,” Jim mutters. He presses into you a bit more, and a soft, desperate sigh leaves your lips. “Or at least, she would if she could think straight,” he continues.

He’s right; you’re not thinking of anything other than him, and how he’s filling you up so completely. Stretching out your walls and touching places inside of you that you didn’t know even existed, until now. Replacing the dull ache of your arousal with an unfamiliar pressure - but certainly not an unwelcome one.

“How’s it feel?” Jim asks.

“It’s… different. Feels kind of weird,” you admit.

“Okay, you don’t have to keep my ego in check that much,” Jim laughs. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, and then close. “But, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Jim’s face dips down to your shoulder, and you can tell that he’s barely still able to hold it together. Although you had been joking earlier, you’re certain that it truly has been months for Jim. You can’t say for sure when the last time he got laid was, but it had to have been before the start of everything. Poor guy. This is the perfect opportunity to mess with him. Call it payback for all the teasing.

“Alright,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice light and jovial. It’s harder than it should be when your heart is pounding out of your chest. “I got what I wanted out of you; we can stop now.”

Jim groans above you, his forehead pressing even deeper into the crook of your shoulder.

“You’re joking,” he whines, one hand gripping at your waist. His fingers tighten a little. “Please say you’re joking.”

You stay silent, lips pursed together in a barely-contained smile. Jim pulls back to look at you, and instantly notices the smug look on your face.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jim huffs, pressing his lips against your neck once again in a hungry kiss.

He pinches your hip, making you squirm. Jim steadies you, holding you in place as he plants another kiss on your lips, then pulls back.

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he teases.

“You mean the good part wasn’t watching you almost cum all over the sheets just from eating me out?”

Now it’s Jim’s turn to be flustered, and you watch with delight as a soft dusting of pink crosses his cheeks.

“You’d better watch it,” Jim says, squeezing you again. “I was gonna be gentle, you know. But if you keep this up, I might just have to fuck you silly.”

You giggle, the sound of your bright laughter filling the room. For a few seconds, the only thing in the world that matters is Jim. Every moment that’s brought you here, no matter how painfully etched in stone, is worth it to be here with him.

“Will you, though?” you say, bringing Jim’s face a bit closer so yours can look into his eyes. “Be gentle?”

“Of course,” Jim hums, leaning down to kiss your soft lips. “Are you still feeling okay?”

“Yes…”

And you are. You've gotten used to the stretch, and the strange pressure has built into a need that has you fighting to stop yourself from pushing up against Jim’s hips, desperate for friction.

“You sure?” Jim asks, sensing that something has been left unsaid.

“I just… I want to feel you move,” you admit, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Jim turns his head to kiss your temple, letting his lips hover over your warm skin.

“That's the good part, love,” Jim teases. “Wrap your legs around me,’kay?”

You do as he says, bringing your legs up to fold around his waist. It causes Jim to hit at a new angle inside you, and for a second you think about backing out. This feels like it could be too much; like he's able to press too deeply inside of you - and the thought of giving someone else so much of yourself is daunting.

But when Jim starts to move, gently and carefully, all of your worries disappear. The first few times he thrusts feel a bit strange, but soon, the feeling is making you lightheaded in the best possible way. Not to mention the way that the swell of his head seems to part you, making you clench at his absence and sigh in pure bliss when he fills you back up. You can feel every inch of yourself as he slowly rocks in and out, hips staying close to avoid overwhelming you.

“Jim!” you cry, squeezing your legs around him a little harder.

“You like it there?” he grunts, his voice gentle but laced with desire.

He changes his angle to hit the spot again, and this time your fingers press into his back. Jim kisses you, swallowing your moans as you feel yourself building toward your release. This time, with Jim pressing deep inside you, you feel yourself clamp down around him.

“Gonna come for me again, pretty girl?” Jim whispers.

Your body is too rigid to even nod as you feel it finally wash over you - a wave of pleasure more intense than you can handle. You're panting and laughing all at once as Jim presses kisses all over your face.

“That was incredible,” he praises, softly. 

You look up to see him, his face framed so perfectly in the glow of the morning light. His lips are slightly parted, awe plainly written in the way his eyes trail over you. You have a sudden urge to run your fingers through his cropped hair, and press his mouth to yours.

But instead, Jim leans down to give you another gentle kiss. That taste on his lips is back again, slightly sweet and utterly addictive. 

“Enjoy your first time, love?” Jim teases, pulling himself out of you with one final, toe-curling drag. He kisses you again, lips pressed firm against yours like there’s truly nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

You surface from your post-sex haze just long enough to be confused. Aren't these things supposed to end with a little more… bravado?

“Jim, aren't you gonna…? Don't you want to…?”

“Not this time, love,” he cuts in. “Like I said, don't want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me!” you protest.

Jim pauses, still hovering just above you. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his low voice getting a shade darker.

“Maybe not, but I do think I might break the poor bed if I let myself do everything I want to ya,” he murmurs.

“We can sleep on the floor,” you say, responding without hesitation.

Jim laughs softly, trailing his fingers over the swell of your hip. He pulls back to look at you again, blue eyes swimming with lust.

“Don't worry, love - you look so good like this, I'm not gonna be able to resist it for long. But for now…”

Jim flops down onto the rickety bed, pulling you with him to rest on his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath makes you feel calm, soothing you all the way down from your high. Jim brings a hand up to cradle your neck, pressing you into him just a bit more so that he can lean down to kiss your forehead.

As you lay there together, your eyes flutter closed.

“Jim?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he scoffs. 

Same playful Jim that you first fell for, weeks ago now. You can't help but smile, and snuggle up a bit closer.

“For always being here for me,” you answer.

“Of course, love.” Jim's breaths are slowing down now, lulling you into the same sleep that he's quickly falling into. “Any time.”

You kiss him, lips pressing into his bare chest, and Jim’s arms squeeze you tightly. As the sunlight streams in through the dusty windows, blanketing both of you in its warmth, you realize just how lucky you are. You press an ear against his chest, listening to the thrum of Jim’s heartbeat.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Change | Changing | Changed?

Sooo Ive read Change like 10 times and though I love ALL your fics, that one gained a special place in my heart as soon as you posted it. I really vibe with Roman (maybe I am autistic…) and I love projecting onto him and watching him suffer. Anyway I was wondering if you feel like it or had any ideas, if we could get a third chapter? Maybe more about how the others react to finding out what Patton and Janus did to Roman, or more protective Ollie! <3 – stealing-babies

Had this concept idea hit me: Patton (as part of being Thomas’s emotions) is hypersensitive to the effects of the other sides's rooms + the imagination. No idea what one could do with that but thought it was neat enough to share. – ax3-e0ns

Have you seen the new incorrect quotes? I feel like there could be some Roman angst/hurt/comfort potential, either with Logan or Janus, what with the stress ball or the 4am chocolate pudding scene – anon

Hey, I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a fic where Roman’s actually the one who finally snaps and goes off on everyone about he himself has been treated? I don’t see enough of the boy standing up for himself for a change. No worries if not! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: panic attacks/dissociation

Pairings: none

Word Count: 7191

Roman is over the top, bombastic, and enthusiastic. He is prone to fits of passion and emotional outbursts. Such is the nature of Creativity. But the others...don't like that. They aren't exactly ambiguous about it either. Or, Roman struggles to walk the line between being himself and being something the others can tolerate. It gets far worse before it gets any better. Getting better takes...a long time

The deepness of the Imagination's oceans vary according to the demands of its various creatures. On this day, when Red Prince is too quiet and a little too sad, Oliver the Kraken decides that the ocean needs to be as vast and monstrous as it can be. He takes Red Prince in his arms, cradling him against his bulbous body to afford him protection within his aura from the crushing depths, swimming down, down, down, past the shoals of fish and pods of whales to the hidden tunnel near the base of the great cliffs. The water here is icy cold, lit only by the sparse bio-luminescence of the deep-sea folk, briefly illuminating the jagged rock walls and mountainous sea terrain. Oliver moves through as silently as a monolith of his size can, Red Prince held delicately in the safety of his grip. As they reach the end of the tunnel, it begins to curve upwards, a faint violet light coming from someplace above the surface of the water.

The Kraken breaches with a soft splash in the hidden cavern, lit by the glowing crystals growing along the walls and the ceiling. Red Prince lets out a breath, sagging in his grip, his tiny fingers stroking the bumps and scars along his skin. The cavern rings with the quiet music of water lapping against the crystals and the slight breeze that blows through their hollows, interrupted by the sloshing sounds of him swimming toward the island in the center of this sheltered cove. Small piles of glowstone highlight the soft white sand underneath flowering trees. The faint smell of them wakes Red Prince from the stupor he had been in since entering the Imagination, and he reaches for them as Oliver nears the island.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he mumbles as he's deposited on a patch of pale green grass.

Of course, Red Prince. You know that you will be safe here, whenever you want to be. He shifts his arms around to prop himself up a little. I will not let any harm come to you.

"I know." Still, Red Prince shuffles a little, tugging his limbs close to himself. "I just—I suppose it's stupid."

Nothing is stupid to me, Red Prince, not if it concerns your well-being.

"Are—you like spending time with Remus too, right?"

Oliver burbles quietly, the water frothing around his arms. Yes, Red Prince, I do. And despite that, I do not favor him anymore than you.

The hidden meaning seen, Red Prince's shoulders relax and a small smile comes to his face. Oliver reaches out to lay an arm within Red Prince's reach and his hand rests on it. Little birds twitter in the trees. The crystal song changes pitch.

You need not fear anything here, he says again, and you may stay as long as you like. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds knows you are here as well, even though she cannot get here. Is there anything else I can do for you, in this moment?

"I—I don't know." He curls up a little tighter. "I'm just…I'm just really scared. And it feels like nothing I do even helps make it go away."

The water bubbles again as his arms churn. What does it feel like? Does it feel like the type of fear that Green Duke makes?

"Sort of? I just—I keep waking up sick to my stomach like something bad's going to happen, like, bad enough that I don't want to wake up anymore."

That is worrisome indeed. The arm wraps around him and tugs him slightly back toward the water. I regret that I cannot hold you the way you might desire.

"This is great, Ollie, you're…you're great." Red Prince now sits near one of the piles of glowstone, turning to rest his cheek upon it. "I think I'm…I think I'm tired."

The bone-weary ache of his words ring through the cavern. A few birds flutter down to perch on the rock, making soft chirps as they run their beaks through Red Prince's hair. Red Prince's smile brightens just a smidge.

"Thank you, little birds."

You know that we all would gladly give you whatever you need, Oliver says, there is nothing you could ask of us that we would not try to provide to you.

"I know."

Although none of us have arms that would embrace you, would you like to be held still?

"Yes, please."

It would be our pleasure.

It is not a simple thing for a Kraken to embrace Red Prince, but Red Prince is sad and upset and in need of comfort, and so he takes two arms and wraps them gently around Red Prince and the pile of glowstone. The pile is not the most forgiving of surfaces, but glowstone is warm to the touch and yields ever so slightly if pressed. Red Prince does not seem to mind, closing his eyes as a soft sigh leaves his lips. The birds perch on his head and shoulders. One of them settles into the crook of his neck, a wing brushing his cheek. He turns his head and his lips brush the tip of its beak. It chirps.

"Not the most fairytale of places," Red Prince mumbles, "but I do like this a lot."

We do specialize in the unconventional, Red Prince, and if I may speak for the birds, we all are quite happy to stay here for as long as you need.

The ocean is vast and hungry, monsters swim its depths and light vanishes from the waters far before it approaches the entrance to the hidden cavern. But here, in the quiet light of the crystal cave, Red Prince is safe for the moment and Oliver is content.

***

At the very tops of the mountains, high beyond the clouds, grow small trees no taller than a bush that could grow anywhere else. The trees have soft and warm bark from the sun's warmth, for there is little cover up there amongst the flat planes of rock and stone. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds nests at the very peak, between the trees, sleeping in the light of the endless spinning galaxies of stars. The wind blows cold in the darkness of storms alone, where the clouds can rise high enough to block out the infinite skies. Otherwise, the sweet warm gusts of wind waft the secrets of the valleys up, up, where she may peruse them in comfort and safety.

It makes it far easier to rest easy when she has her charge nestled against her chest, humming a quiet song to keep her company.

I have missed your voice, Red Prince, she says gently, I cannot say I have heard it nearly enough in the recent times you have come.

"I haven't really felt like singing all that recently."

I know, says she, and leans down to nuzzle her snout against his chest, is there anything I can do?

"Just sitting here with you is nice. I haven't really had a lot of places that I feel safe enough to just exist in for a while."

The now familiar tingle of irritation flickers down her scales and she lays her head down next to him, watching him fiddle with a small amulet—from the kindly man who lives deep in the woods, no doubt, he had long ago taken a liking to Red Prince and provided him with many gifts and trinkets. She puffs a small smoke ring. What is this one for?

"He said it was to bring a sense of comfort to me." He runs his thumb over the engraving, the shape of a blooming flower worked beautifully into the metal. "I don't know if it was just supposed to be figuratively or if there's some magic in it, but…I like it."

It is a most thoughtful gift. Partway between sentiment and practicality, is it not?

Red Prince smiles. "Yes, it is."

Then it is perfect for one such as you. She nudges him with her snout to make him chuckle. Perhaps he has been refining his gift-giving for you intentionally.

"I didn't come here to be teased," he protests, but it is only lightly, and she relents as soon as she began, turning her head to rest once more towards the edge of the mountain to sniff the breeze. "I…I said thank-you, and that I'd be…interested to learn from him."

Her ears prick up slightly. Oh? I did not know you would be interested in such a craft.

"I'm trying new things."

It does not take a dragon of superior wit and mind to know that Red Prince has long be afraid of sharing new things with Those-Who-Do-Not-Shape, and as such, has even hesitated to try something in the safety of the Imagination. Her chest warms with contentment, a low and pleased rumble thrumming through the surrounding stone. Red Prince smiles. She turns once more to press her snout into Red Prince's stomach.

Words cannot express how pleased I am to hear that, Red Prince.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "I know. I…yeah."

The breezes forgotten for the moment, she sighs happily and lets Red Prince run the medallion across the ridges of her snout. I do not wish to push you, but I have questions if you would answer them.

"I trust you."

I will not abuse it, Red Prince, you have my word. She shifts her tail to curl it around him, adding another degree of safety even atop this mountain where none else would dare to tread. Does Green Duke still help you?

"Remus is great. He's—he's really helpful, he's—I wouldn't—I don't think I'd be able to do any of this without Remus."

What does he do to help, if you would tell me?

"He helps take the heat off me when I need it, or he's always there to help me escape if I need to. He also helps me explain what's going on with me or—or if I need to do things a different way than what they want."

I see. Are you…safe with him?

"I've never not been safe with Remus."

She lets out a quiet growl, not quite a reprimand, not quite not a reprimand. You were frightened when he came upon you on the grass, where The Deep One and I were tending to you.

"Yeah, but that wasn't—that wasn't really because of him, it was…I think it was…"

Even now, just speaking of it, Red Prince hunches in on himself, curling up in the lea of her. With another soft rumble, she moves them a little closer to one of the small trees, affording him something to clutch if he needs it. He rests his cheek against the warm soft bark, taking in the shade. She gives him the time he needs, but keeps up the gentle rumble of her breath to ground him.

"…I was scared of him being there because the others would—because I thought they would just immediately be mad at me, not because I thought Remus would hurt me."

And the others, do they still frighten you?

Red Prince lets out a long sigh, slumping against the tree and her chest in turn. He looks like the little child whose favorite toy has floated away in the river, and the old man who has seen a thousand thousand years and still must watch the sunrise.

"Yes," he says with that voice of infinite sadness, "every day."

I am sorry, Red Prince, that I cannot always protect you from the hurt they cause you.

"It's not your fault. I know…I know most of it's my fault."

No, she says firmly, raising her head up to look him in the eye, it is not your fault, Red Prince, you are scared and hurt, and that is not and never will be a burden that falls on your shoulders and your shoulders alone. You are scared, that is true, and you are hurt, that is true. But you have been taught to be scared and hurt, and you are far too gentle of a soul to have done that to yourself.

Red Prince sniffles and oh, her intention was not to make him cry, and so she leans forward to gently lick away his tears. He tucks the medallion into his pocket and hugs her back, the tears subsiding quickly as he falls into a doze against her heat.

You are welcome to come back here, Red Prince, whenever you need.

"Will you take care of me like this if I do?"

Yes, of course I will.

***

Patton sits next to him on the couch and Roman immediately tucks the medallion into his pocket on the far side of his leg. He can tell by the way Patton shifts that he notices it, but doesn't say anything. Remus comes over a moment later and sits on his other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a smacking kiss to his head.

"Hey, Roro."

"Hi."

"You doing okay today?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Across the room, Janus gives him a look but doesn't say anything. After another moment, he gets up and ruffles Remus's hair, kissing Roman's forehead. Roman tenses a little and Janus doesn't seem to take any offense, moving away and sitting next to Logan. "Well, shall we decide what movie we're watching tonight?"

"I'm partial to something along the lines of The Imitation Game," Logan says, looking up from his notebook, "but I am aware that we've been going with my choices quite a few times over these past few weeks."

"I'd be down with watching that," Virgil says, "but I think I'd rather—I mean if we're throwing out choices, I wanna put Pacific Rim out there."

"Ooh, I do like watching giant robots punch giant aliens." Remus nudges Roman. "What about you, Roro?"

"Um, I don't really have an opinion right now."

"Okay." Janus says quickly before anyone can say anything else, "that's fine, sweetie. What about something like one of the documentaries we've been working through?"

"That sounds great," Patton says, but Roman can tell he's still looking at him, "Roman, does that work for you?"

"Yeah, I like documentaries."

"Settled, then." Logan stands up and fetches his laptop, beginning to hook it up to the TV. "Roman, would you mind helping the—"

"Yep."

He doesn't give anyone the time to say anything else, immediately going over to Logan's side to fiddle with the cords and make sure everything's good. Behind him, he can feel the eyes creeping up his back and rounds his shoulders. Logan touches his back lightly in thanks as he finishes, quickly going back over to let Remus lie on top of him. Janus chuckles at the two of them even as Patton yelps, quickly getting up and going to sit by Virgil.

"Sweetie? Can I play with your hair?"

"Um, if you want to."

"Thank you." Gloved fingers begin to scritch lightly through his hair and he closes his eyes, letting Remus's weight sink him into the couch. The sensation is soft and makes his brain go a little fuzzy, and he thinks that maybe he'll fall asleep here, before the documentary starts…

"Is everything ready?"

Patton's voice wrenches him back to wakefulness and he knows that Virgil, Janus, and Remus can all sense it. Remus lets out a quiet growl, holding him a little tighter. Janus kisses his fingertips and ruffles his hair again. Roman keeps his eyes open for the rest of the documentary and there's a sickness curdling in his stomach that he can't quite shake.

"Hey," Remus whispers when the documentary is loud, "hey, Roro, just stay with me, okay? Just hang out."

"I'm trying."

"I know, and you're doing great. Hey, can you name all the colors on the screen right now?"

He turns his head and looks at the animals, the plants, the skies. "Brown…white…purple…green…blue…black, yellow, red, and pink."

"Hey, nice, good job." Remus nuzzles into his neck. "You're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother."

"So?" He nuzzles into him again and it tickles. "You giggling down there, Roro?"

Roman glimpses Logan glancing at them and braces himself to be scolded, but Logan only smiles fondly at them and shakes his head, looking back at the screen. Remus follows his gaze and huffs, flopping down like a cat and making a show of being comfortable while shielding Roman's head from everyone else.

"You're safe," he whispers into his ear, "you're safe, I've got you, nothing's gonna hurt you right now."

There's nothing like this in the Imagination, Roman knows, nothing like this comforting weight and warmth and safety that he can't really get from the dragon or Ollie or anything else. He curls into Remus and tries to lose himself in the documentary. It's interesting, something about how these animals have adapted to living in urban environments. But he sees a rat scurry through a dark, dank alleyway, and can't help but feel like he's recognizing something in himself.

***

"Remus," Logan calls, walking down the hall, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

"What's up, Lolo?"

"Can we…" He indicates Remus's door. "Would you mind if we spoke somewhere more private?"

Remus nods and opens his door, welcoming Logan inside. Logan fiddles with a notebook, turning pages back and forth. After a while, he sighs and looks up.

"I have a question about Roman, and I want you to know that I don't intend to cause him hurt by investigating this information."

Remus raises an eyebrow. "Well, this definitely doesn't make me incredibly inclined to help you."

"I don't think it's anything that you did, if that's any consolation."

"It's not, but proceed."

Logan sighs. "Can I have your word that you will not immediately attempt to cause me physical harm when I ask this question?"

"I will not immediately break your spine, no."

"Is that the best I'm going to get?" Remus grins a little two widely and he sighs again. "I suppose that's a yes. Very well: I am…concerned that something has happened between Patton, Janus, and Roman, and I don't know what to do."

Remus takes a deep breath and sits down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's he told you already?"

"Something stemmed from the incident between the three of them when Thomas was still uncomfortable with his homosexuality, but I don't know—"

"The 'incident,' is that what he called it?"

"…no, that's my word for it."

"'Cause it was a fucking incident, alright." He reaches out and grabs a squid ink sac. It bursts in his hand. "That was—shit, and you and Emo didn't learn about this until later, did you?"

"I was not aware of an incident until Roman told me about it recently."

Remus growls at him and he steps back with his hands raised. "You mean that Roman was physically locked out of the Imagination for months, and you guys didn't fucking notice?"

Logan's expression drops. The notebook clatters to the floor. "Roman was what?"

"How the fuck did you not know about it? The Imagination—shit, Lolo—"

"No, I knew that Roman didn't go into the Imagination for a while, but I didn't—I was not aware that it was because his entrance was prohibited. What—why—"

"Because Roman's existence hasn't actually been appreciated by everyone around here for a long time and things like stuff he needs to do to stay alive are viewed as privileges that can be revoked."

Guilt and regret tremble at the corners of Logan's mouth and he adjusts his glasses. "I know I have played no small part in this—"

"No shit."

"—but I didn't…Remus, you must understand, I never meant to…I had nothing to do with this. I didn't know. I wasn't—I don't—I wouldn't—Roman is Creativity, how would I—"

"I believe you," Remus says quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, "I know, Logan, I know."

Logan lets out a shuddering breath, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "I apologize. I did not foresee myself becoming this upset."

"Yeah, I know."

"The…the incident, if I may still call it that—"

"That's fine, yeah."

"—would I be incorrect in assuming that it was not the only one of its kind?"

"Well, they never tried to banish Roman from the Imagination again, that's for fucking sure." Remus shakes his head. "God, I've never—I've never fucking seen Roman like that before and I never want to see him like that again. But yeah, Lolo, I don't—you're smart enough to know that Patton and Janus have been holding some sort of power over Roman for a long time."

"Yes."

"That's not an accident. Roman's really vulnerable to stuff like that—and you need to know that I'm telling you this because if this somehow gets back to them," he continues, tightening his grip on Logan's shoulder, "I'm going to know exactly where it came from."

"I won't betray your confidence."

"You'd better fucking not. Yeah, Roro's the Ego—he's fragile in ways that Patton and Janus can exploit. Uniquely exploit, because Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination to a certain extent, and Janus…"

"Janus knows Roman," Logan says softly, "and that is perhaps all he needs."

"Yeah."

"You said Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination?"

"Well, Thomathy isn't exactly unaffected by what happens in the Imagination, nor is he immune to what his Ego does to take care of him. So when Roro's trying to make himself feel better, Thomas can feel it, which means Patton can feel it."

"So Patton knows when Roman's trying to cheer himself up."

"Yeah."

"How…how is this a bad thing?"

"Well, if you have a conversation with someone and they immediately run to make themselves feel better…"

Logan's expression shutters and his jaw sets. He adjusts his tie and covers Remus's hand with his own. "I don't know what else I can do for Roman, especially since I have contributed to the pain he has felt, but if there is anything, please, tell me?"

Remus looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He seems to be content by what it is that he's found, however, and nods sagely with a seriousness that seems almost foreign to him. Logan nods back and picks up his notebook.

"Is there anything else that I should know?"

"Not right now, I don't think."

"Can I…is Roman in the Imagination right now?"

"Why?"

"I…wanted to tell him that I had an idea for another board game I think he and I could play together. You could play it with us too!" They start moving toward the doors. "It's a mystery horror themed thing—"

"Sold!"

"Remus, I didn't even explain what it—"

"You said 'mystery' and 'horror.' Lolo, I'm in already."

***

"I'm sorry, he did fucking what?"

Logan puts his hands on Roman's shoulders and a different shudder goes through him, one triggered by the dry warmth as opposed to the near flinch in response to Virgil's shout. He leans into the touch as much as he can.

Virgil, of course, senses his fear, and quiets immediately, slouching a little to make himself seem smaller. "Hey, I'm sorry, Princey, I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay."

"It's not," Logan says softly, "and that's alright too."

"L's right." Virgil even goes so far as to ease himself into a seated position on the other side of the room. "I know how bad yelling can be for you, Princey. I'm—shit, I'm just really upset for you right now."

Roman peeks out at him under his hair, surprised to see a soft smile on Virgil's face. After a moment, he holds out a hand, and Virgil gets up and ambles over. He sits down next to the base of Roman's chair, tangling his fingers with his. He gives a few reassuring squeezes and Roman squeezes back.

"Can I—so obviously I'm gonna try not to shout again, but can Remus keep telling me about this incredibly fucked up thing that happened to you?"

Roman nods. Logan squeezes his shoulder. He drifts away again, for he has no need to relive this more than he already does, focusing on the comfort of Logan's touch and the way that Virgil squeezes his hands every once in a while. Remus's voice stays low and even, but there's an undercurrent of steel that doesn't quite vanish even when the words never raise louder than the low thud of the wind against the walls of the Imagination's cabin.

"—incey? Princey?" Roman blinks. Virgil looks up at him. There's a furrow between his brows but he makes an effort to smile. "Hey, there he is. I'm so fucking sorry, Princey, that's fucked up. That's really fucked up, and I'm sorry that I've—I'm sorry that I've ever had anything to do with making this worse. I don't really—I'm not great with words, but I—"

Roman squeezes his hand. "You didn't do it to me, I don't…I don't blame you for that."

"But I've been doing the same sort of shit. Hey, hey," and here his voice softens a little when Roman goes to protest, "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm not trying to run my own fucking pity party over here, I just—fuck, Princey, you're owed so many fucking apologies about all this shit, okay?"

A lump suddenly appears in his throat. He swallows heavily.

"Oh, hey, hey, c'mere…" Warm arms wrap around him and he's leant back into a strong chest. "Hey, it's okay, you can cry, Princey, that's okay."

"Shh, little one," Logan murmurs when Roman starts to try to apologize, "you're safe here. You're doing very well."

There's a soft thwoop sound and he peeks out to see Remus has summoned a massive mattress on the floor of the cabin. The windows are open, the late-afternoon breeze blowing in with the soft sweet smell of grass and flowers. Virgil and Logan must've had some sort of silent conversation, for he's lifted up into two pairs of strong arms and laid down on the mattress. Remus tucks a blanket over them and then gleefully flops down, much to the surprise and chagrin of the other two.

"Hey!"

"Remus!"

"Cat pile time, everyone hush and cuddle Ro."

Roman chuckles, a little watery, but snuggles into the midst of the three of them. Logan sighs, far too fondly, and presses a kiss to his temple. Virgil scoots a little further away so none of them are at risk of losing circulation, still holding onto Roman's hand.

"I vote that we don't talk about this anymore for right now," Logan says quietly, "all in favor?"

"Me."

"Also me."

"Yeah," Roman mumbles, "can…can we just stay here for a while?"

"Of course, little one."

***

"Sweetie," he hears distantly, "sweetie, it's alright, it's just me, I'm not here to hurt you, can you open your eyes for me?"

Roman opens his eyes. He's lying on the floor in the hallway. It's dark. Someone is leaning over him.

"Sweetie," he hears again, "sweetie, can you say something?"

"J-Janus?"

"There you are, my sweet prince." Janus smiles and cups his face. "Can I help you sit up for me, sweetie? I don't think the hallway is very comfortable at this point at night. There's nothing wrong with sleeping on the floor, believe me, but I think a fine prince such as yourself would be better suited to your bed."

Roman blinks again. "I'm…on the floor?"

"Yes, sweetie, you're on the floor. Do you remember how you got here?"

"I was…I was in the kitchen."

"Yes, that's right. You were making chocolate pudding."

"Why was I making chocolate pudding?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I believe you said it was because you've lost all control."

"That does sound like me."

He chuckles. "Now, sweet prince, can we see if we can sit you up? Come, come, lean on me…that's it, there you are."

Roman blinks a few more times as he slowly lifts himself up, holding onto Janus's shoulders. Janus slips more of his arms around his waist to help him, murmuring more encouragement in his ear as he goes. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sits up, leaning now against the wall. Janus crouches there with him, tucking his hair back behind his ear.

"Janus?"

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, sweet prince?"

"I was—I'm—I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not angry with you, sweet prince," Janus says gently, "I promise. I'm only worried—can we get you to bed?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Sweetie, I'm not asking you because I have some obligation, I'm worried, and I want you to be safe in your bed so you can rest." He leans down and kisses his forehead and everything is fuzzy for Roman, and he doesn't know what to do, but warm touches are warm touches and he's always been weak to a soft voice with gentle words. "So?"

"…okay."

He leans against Janus's side as they move down the hallway, opening the door into Roman's room. He pulls back the covers and lies down, leaning to help tuck him under the sheets. "There you are, sweet prince, is that better?"

"Why…why're you only nice to me when there's no one else around?"

Something shutters across his expression before it settles on something terribly sad. "I don't know, sweetie. I'm—I'm trying to be better about it, but I seem to keep messing it up."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Janus." His voice grows thick. "I don't know whether you're going to be nice to me or hurt me."

The bed dips as Janus sits down near his head, still carding his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Roman. I'm so, so sorry."

"You hurt me, Janus," and now he begins to sniffle, "you—you keep hurting me."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm sorry."

Janus doesn't move away, not as Roman sniffles and sobs his way through saying how much pain Janus has caused him, not when he tells him how difficult it is to keep moving forward, not even when he says how scared he is right now, with his belly showing and Janus's teeth at his metaphorical throat. He just sits there, listening, pressing kisses to Roman's hands and cheeks.

***

"Patton?"

"What is it, Roman?"

"Shut up."

Virgil mutters oh, shit. Logan takes a deep breath. Janus's shoulders tense. Remus steps closer.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Roman says through gritted teeth, "shut up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You don't get to talk over me like that. You don't get to act like I'm just some good-for-nothing spoiled kid that doesn't know anything."

"Now, Roman—"

"No. I've had to sit here and have you talk at me for ages. You're gonna listen to me for once." His hands ball into fists. "You don't get to act like you're the one who's always going to be right. You don't get to do that, not to me. You don't get to act like I'm the one who always comes into this sort of thing with a preconceived notion of how it's going to go. I'm the one who's tried with you. I've tried so many times to just talk to you and you never listen to me."

"That's not—"

"It is. It is true, because every fucking time I have to walk away from those 'conversations' with bruises all over me because you can't be bothered to think about what your words do to me. Because they hurt, Patton, and you don't get to act like they don't. You don't get to act like you don't know what you're doing when you tell me I'm stupid or petty or a bully, you don't get to act like you're hurting me because you don't have a choice or that it's my fault I'm getting hurt."

Remus brushes against his arm. A silent keep going.

"You don't get to act like you don't know why I'm scared of talking to you sometimes, not when you've claimed the authority to remove my fucking coping mechanisms like they're some luxury that you think I don't deserve anymore. You don't get to hold that shit over my head like you have the right to it. No, I don't want to talk about this stuff with you. No, I don't feel safe to talk about with you, and no, I don't feel bad about saying any of that because it's true."

"Those are very hurtful things to say, Roman."

"It's hurtful to tell someone they're wrong when you haven't even taken the time to actually listen to them. It's hurtful to invite someone to a 'conversation' and then just lecture them the whole time. It's hurtful to hold someone's insecurity over their head for actual fucking years and use it whenever you want because it's a convenient way to make someone listen to you."

Patton just looks at him. Roman's breath suddenly catches in his throat. He's yelling at Patton. He's yelling at Patton.

"He's right, Patton," he hears Virgil say, "you're—I'm not gonna say the rest of us are blameless here, but you're really unfair to Roman sometimes and that's not cool."

"And now, how am I supposed to react to all of these accusations? Are you all going to gang up on me now?"

"We're not ganging up on you," Logan says, "the rest of us have barely said anything."

"But you're not disagreeing with Roman."

"No, we're not, because he's right." Remus squeezes Roman's shoulder. "And you know he's right."

"I don't think it's right that he's making me out to be this big bad guy who's trying to hurt him on purpose!"

"I don't think it's right to act like we don't know what they're talking about," Janus says softly, and Patton turns to look at him, "you know we've been unfair to Roman, Patton. We've been cruel to him, almost, and even if we didn't know the effects of what we did when we did them, I think we both know better now."

"Why are you looping me in with you?"

"Because the reason Roman was so receptive to praise and positive attention was because it was so foreign to him he didn't even think to question it," he says, voice a tad sharper now, "and there's really only one person who could've started such a thing."

Patton goes quiet for a long, long moment. Then he looks at Roman. Roman flinches just at that look.

"Roman? Is…are you…did I really make this a lot worse for you?"

Trap. This is a trap. This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap.

"You can tell me," Patton says, which doesn't make him think it's any less of a trap, but then Janus nods at him and he manages to swallow.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, it's—it's really bad, Patton."

Silence. Remus squeezes his shoulder tightly. There's a roar of blood in his ears. Distantly, he hears Virgil mumble something to Logan and Logan starts talking. They're all talking now, but Roman can't say a thing. He's so scared. He's so scared. He's going to pass out. He's going to throw up. He's going to have a sword thrust into his chest and split his ribs.

"Roman," he hears Remus say, cutting through the fog, "Roro, you did great. You did it, it's over now. If you need to run and hide, you can. We'll take care of it. It'll be okay."

He thinks more than says I can go?

"Yeah, Roro, you can go."

Roman's gone in the blink of an eye.

***

The forest is dark. There is no moon. The sky is black. The trees loom over the clearing. The wind is bitingly cold. The grass crunches and snaps. No living creature dares move.

Roman curls up on his knees in the middle of the clearing. The wind whips across his bare skin so harshly it feels like a blade. In the dark of the night, there is no refuge from the biting cold, no place where he could go and be free of the pain ravaging him inside and out. Breath shudders out of him in pitiful clouds of steam. He shakes and trembles.

The reverberations of the approaching footsteps are so powerful that he feels them deep in his chest.

With jerky movements, he looks up. It's difficult to tell at first what's different, just because the mass is so large it's hard to distinguish it from the surrounding sky, but as he moves, the faint silhouette of the wolf becomes discernible from the forest. Glowing eyes gleam down at him, light reflecting off of the fangs, as the enormous paws come to a stop right in front of him. His head bows, his snout lowering to breath warm air across Roman's frigid form.

The wolf, unlike the other creatures in the Imagination, does not speak. Not in the way that Oliver or She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds speaks. But he knows Roman, more perhaps than any aside from Remus, and so he needn't speak to be able to communicate. He leans down, taking Roman's limp form in between his giant teeth, beginning to carry him through the woods. His tongue presses against Roman's freezing arms, trying to convey some warmth back into him, but he is too massive and too focused on carrying him to safety to be able to do something more right now.

There is no fear sweeter than the kind that curls in Roman's stomach at this moment, for what could be more terrifying than the one that carries him in his jaws? They move through the dark forest, over fallen logs and past trickling streams, deeper still into a thicket where the warm air from the valleys below has created a dense fog. A few skittering noises as different small critters move away from the wolf's path. They reach the base of a cliff and he recognizes the entrance to the wolf's den.

He's carried into the den, laid down on soft moss next to a small fire. The warmth licks at his limbs as the wolf lies down with a growl, circling him with his bulk. Roman turns and snuggles into the soft fur of the wolf's belly, hearing another soft growl that sounds almost like a huff of endearment. The fire snaps and crackles, a soothing noise as the wolf's heart beats steadily against his side. He continues to let out low huffs and growls, reassuring Roman of his presence and safety in this moment.

The fear re-surges. He retches, clapping a hand over his mouth. He curls up tighter, as if he could squeeze it from himself. The wolf growls again, a little louder, and his tails flicks up to almost cover him as though it were a blanket. He knows it is ridiculous to be scared, here, between the paws of the wolf, but he is only small and cannot help it.

Another huff of breath and the snout pushes against him.

I know, he thinks, I know it's okay to be scared, but I—I—I—

The wolf rumbles again, tongue darting out to lightly lick his hand.

Can I just be scared? Is that okay?

Another rumble, and this time he feels the wolf shift slightly so he can curl better around him. He noses gently at Roman's head, lapping at his hand again, his tail lightly tickling under his chin. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle attention, letting the wolf protect him. The sound of the fire soothes the frantic part of his hindbrain, the fur too tempting not to burrow into just a little. He's barely the size of a thorn in the wolf's side. The wolf rumbles, lying his head down and leaning it against him so he's pressed in on all sides.

The sickness recedes ever so slightly. Exhaustion quickly replaces it. The wolf breathes slowly. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the soft fur.

***

"I just don't understand!"

"You're hurt because Roman has expressed that you've hurt him."

"Well, yeah!"

"I don't think you get to be mad at him for that, Patton."

"I'm not mad, I'm just very disappointed that—"

"Okay, no, you don't get to do that either. That's not—Patton, the reason this got as bad as it did is because Roman doesn't feel like he can express that he's upset. At you or anyone else."

"But that's—how is that fair?"

"Okay, I think we're going in circles here—look, Pat-Pat, the point here is that Roro's upset—rightfully so, and he needs to time be upset about it now that he knows it's safe for him to be upset."

"It's always been safe for him to be upset!"

"No, Patton, it hasn't."

"Not when we've been jumping all over him for just expressing how he's feeling."

"He knows he can come and talk to me, he does! I don't understand why—"

"Patton, when was the last time Roman sought you out? To talk to you, or even just to hang out?"

"…"

"Patton?"

"…oh, no."

***

It takes a long time.

Roman spends a lot of time in the Imagination. Patton can feel it, can feel how hurt Roman is and how Thomas must be feeling by association. Everyone spends more time just…existing around each other without actually doing anything.

It takes a long, long time.

Fear never completely goes away, but it does become a little less omnipresent. Pain fades, or dulls, but the memory still causes flinches.

In time.

In time.

***

"Roman?"

"Hm?"

"Any ideas?"

Roman glances up at the others. They're all looking at him expectantly. Logan raises an eyebrow and gestures for him to go on.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

"Well, I did think of something."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[wordsonamission]

For the writer's ask!!

2, 36, and 42 ❤️❤️

Yay thanks! There are really great questions on this list!

2 - where do you get your fic ideas?

Some ideas come from discussion and analysis that I read here or elsewhere. Some come from other art, especially gifsets with lyrics and quotes, that get me thinking. A lot come from rewatching canon and needing to know more about the characters.

I'm pretty much always daydreaming of stories, it's just a thing my brain does. And I do my best to commit the better ones to actual words.

36 - what fic are you proudest of?

This is the hardest question for me! The cop-out answer (that's totally true) is that there are aspects of all my fics that I'm proud of. A risk, or a phrase, or a plot point, etc.

But if you're making me choose, it was Falling Into Place: the first real fic that I actually posted online. I felt the urge to write it entirely for me. I didn't think anyone would read it. I just wanted the story to keep going and for Maverick and Ice to finally put the pieces together.

Posting a "real" E fic in a well-established fandom was so scary! But I've gotten such kind feedback it's been reassuring

42 - what's your favorite title?

Haha those who read my tags know that fic titles are my white whale. Often they're the worst part of finishing a fic. Struggling to make the words go is one thing, but titles are such an enigma. I think I've pretty much figured out tags and descriptions, but titles are so often last minute.

Kissed By The Sun wins, though. As with my best titles, it came to me easily and naturally. It was actually one of the first pieces that came together before I even started writing. I immediately had a title once inspiration struck.

Thanks again @flyingfightingfishy ! I'm happy to answer any other questions from the list ❤️

[reashot]

After a long wait. My promised long fic sequel to ice queendom is finally here. Also a bit of a disclaimer this technically takes place after my last fic. You don't have to read it to understand it but it will enhances the experience. And may explains something.

This is technically just a prologue and not even the entire prologue. But I will continue this story if it get over a 100 likes. This is also my first time writing a non-binary character and I have a great fun writing them.

Jaune’s Big Dick Adventure: Prologue. 

“Call me Ishmael…” It kept telling me again and again. 

Jaune can't see who said that. In fact he can't see anything at all. He found himself surrounded by darkness so thick he can't even see himself. He looks around but he still can't see anything but the sound calling out to him. Unable to see anything he decides to look for the source of the sound he kept hearing. Stumbling in the dark for what seems to be an eternity with only the sounds as his guide. Without an end in sight. Jaune starts getting frustrated and starts shouting in the dark. Hoping that the person could hear it. "Who is Ishmael?!" Jaune screamed to the voice in the darkness only to be met with a silent response. 

Normally he would have given up by now but for some reason he keeps on moving. 'Too soon to give up.' He thought to himself. So the only thing he can do is to move forward. Even when he seemingly walks into an abyss. As Jaune walks he starts to feel that each step he takes starts to get harder and harder like he's walking in water, until finally he finds himself in the middle of an ocean. From here Jaune then suddenly went from walking in the dark to swimming in a large ocean. It's there he realizes This is the same dream again, a dream of him swimming in the ocean as he watches a whale swim towards him. A white whale, A giant whale, no, a whale to end all whales. He found himself drowning as he was struggling for air while the whale looked at him with their giant eyes, watching him as he drowned. In a dream this is where he should have woken up, but it felt too real for him, so he keeps on thrashing around in his bed unable to wake up from his dream. All the while the whale still keeps their sight on the drowning teenager. 

"Call me Ishmael…" The whale said again to Jaune. 

Jaune however can't answer the whale on the account that he's drowning.

"Call me Ishmael…" The whale repeats. 

Jaune tries to struggle as hard as he can to prevent drowning in his dream. He trashes harder and harder in his bed causing him to fall from his bed. The impact causes him to be violently awakened from his sleep. 

Waking up, Jaune found himself on the floor of his dorm. "Ouch" Jaune touched his head and noticed that there's a slight bump. 

"Is it that dream again, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked Jaune after being awoken by him. 

"More like a nightmare." He answered as he slowly rose up from the ground near his bed. 

"This is the third time you have had them, Jaune *yawn.* Maybe you should seek help. Beacon after all has a state of the art counseling facility. Maybe they can help you with this problem?" Ren offers Jaune some advice after being woken up by him. 

Nora however, despite the loud commotion, somehow still fast asleep snoring in the background. 

"I'm okay Ren. It was just a nightmare. You don't have to worry about me. It's nothing, I swear." Jaune answers Ren while smiling at him. 

"... If you say so, Jaune." Ren reluctantly agreed with Jaune, but deep down he knew it's much more serious than he let on. He doesn't know how, but he just knew it. Because that's just a feeling he gets from him. 

"You know Jaune? Where I'm from. Sometimes dreams are prophecies for things yet to come." Pyrrha explains to Jaune. 

"Prophecy?" Jaune now seems more confused about his current situation. 

"Yeah, we call those types of people Oracle. And people usually seek their help in predicting the future to help with all sorts of problems in their life." Pyrrha tries to explain as best as she can to people outside her culture. 

"Wow! That sounds great. I bet that could be a useful ability to have.” Jaune is fascinated after hearing that he might have the power of prophecy.

 

Pyrrha giggled a little after hearing Jaune. “Well just don’t let it get to your head. It is not unusual in a story for an Oracle to be killed for giving false prophecy or for misusing their power.” Pyrrha gives Jaune a cautionary advice. 

Jaune then lets out a short sigh in response. "Of course there has to be some catch."

Pyrrha giggled again after hearing Jaune. "Well of course, my people love their tragedy and especially their irony in our story." 

"That sounds kinda messed up Pyhr? Jaune said not trying to be disrespectful. 

"Well that's true. But I guess I'm just kinda used to it." Pyrrha places her finger on her cheek. Contemplating what Jaune said. 

Jaune laughed a little hearing Pyrrha's response. 

"I hate to break up you two flirting. But we still need to meet our instructor tomorrow morning. Well it's more like we  have a few hours before we meet with our instructor." Ren cuts into the conversation. "So if you want to go back to bed there's still time for it, Jaune." Ren continues. 

Jaune looks up to see the time and sees that the time is around three in the morning. He slowly gets up from the floor to face Ren. "No need, I'll use the extra time for training. You guys are welcome to join." Jaune slowly changes into his training outfit. 

"I'll go with you Jaune." Pyrrha also follows suit and changes into her training outfit. "How about you Ren. You want to join us?"

"I'll stay here. Someone needs to wait for Nora to wake up after all." Ren pointed towards the still sleeping Nora. 

"Wow. How could she just sleep through all this?" Jaune is amazed by Nora's sleeping prowess. 

Ren simply nodded at Jaune's remark and waved them goodbye, Exiting their room. They make sure to tread lightly so as not to wake up everyone still sleeping. 

When they are finally out of their dorm Jaune and Pyrrha do a light run around the academy as some form of a "pre-exercise" for Jaune. Pyrrha actually tried to give Jaune a regular and easier exercise course for him to follow. But Jaune insisted that he should have a more intense training course. At first Pyrrha was against it, seeing that Jaune was not used to such harsh training. But after seeing the determination in Jaune's eyes. Pyrrha eventually relented and gave him a training course similar to her. But Jaune must let Pyrrha oversee his training to make sure nothing bad happens to him. He accepted the condition without a second thought. Because he has to be stronger as quickly as he can. Because if the “Ice Queendom” incident taught him anything, it is that he is weak. Too weak to protect his friends, too weak to even be useful to them. The only times he was being useful to team RWBY was in being used either as bloodhound to help search for stuff, as a distraction or just giving pep talk to Ruby. 

In short he doesn't want to feel useless anymore. This is of course in contradiction to what really happened during the incident. In reality Jaune did more than he realizes. His help during the incident was instrumental to help rescuing Weiss, but he doesn't see it like that. Jaune only sees himself as a burden to his own friends and teammates. Because of that he will make sure to never feel that way again. 

And so he ran and ran as fast as his feet could get him. From his feeling of inferiority and ineptitude. But then he soon realizes that feelings can quickly catch up to him just as fast, as he tries to outrun them. While Jaune ran alongside Pyrrha. She can see that Jaune is having a hard time keeping up with her. "Jaune, do you need to slow down?" Pyrrha said to him.

"W-what, no! I'm fine, don't worry about me Pyrrha. *wheeze* J-just keep *wheeze* keep running in front of me." Jaune said with bated breaths. 

Pyrrha of course notices that Jaune is having trouble breathing and decides to slow down for his sake. But Jaune shakes his head at Pyrrha. Signaling to her to just leave him be and go on without him. Pyrrha however pretends not to see it and decides to run slowly beside him. "You don't have to push yourself so hard Jaune…" Pyrrha voiced her concern. 

But this caused Jaune to react in opposite to what Pyrrha had intended and instead run even faster overtaking her. Jaune knows the look she gave him very well. It’s the same look his own family gave him when he said he wasn’t good enough to be a warrior. The same looks of pity he gets everytime he is told that he doesn't have what it takes. 

And so he continues running as a way to prove to others and to himself that he can do it. However Jaune soon finds out that his body did not share his thoughts. His breathing starts becoming erratic and he soon finds himself gasping for air. "I-I can make it." Is what he said before he can feel the content of his stomach vacating from his mouth. *Hurl* Jaune silently thankful that he didn't eat any breakfast before he started running. 

"There, there." Pyrrha patted and rubbed Jaune's back. 

"I-I'm fine Pyrrha." Jaune lied to her again. *Hergh* and he vomited again. 

"That's okay Jaune. Just let it all out." Pyrrha does her best to console Jaune and rub his back to help him get all of his vomit out. 

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this… *hurgh* Jaune said to her before he returned back to emptying the content of his stomach. 

Pyrrha answered by merely shaking her head. " It's okay Jaune. The point of an exercise is to find out where one limit lies. And now that we found yours, we can now work on pushing past your limit. 

"I must have looked very pathetic to you right now." *hergh* Jaune is still not done puking out his innard. 

"On the contrary. I think you look incredible to me right now." Pyrrha beamed towards Jaune. 

"Huh?" His confusion after hearing Pyrrha's statement made him temporarily stop regurgitating his inside. 

"To me Jaune. The sight of you puking on the ground after trying your very best is the part I like the most." Pyrrha's answer only serves to confuse him even further. 

"That’s a rather unique way of looking at things.” Jaune sarcastically replied to Pyhrra. 

“It’s the truth Jaune. It’s up to you if you don’t believe me.” She simply smiled at him. 

'What kind of question is that?' Jaune said to himself. Of course he believes her. Always. And it made him smile a little to hear her say that. If Jaune doesn’t trust himself then he will trust those that believe in him. “Pyrrha I want to. I want to try to run another lap again.” He said within bated breath.

Pyrrha is surprised by Jaune's enthusiasm but nonetheless she couldn't be happier after hearing him wanting to push himself even further. And she simply answered by running ahead of Jaune subtly signaling to him to follow her lead. 

Having gotten his answer. Jaune instinctively follows her. To his surprise when he starts running this time it feels a little lighter and easier to move than before. I guess it's true that after you vomit it starts to get easier. With each step he takes it gets easier and easier. Until it starts getting better and better. This must be the runner-high he kept hearing about. If he knew how good this felt he would not have slack off all those years ago. He blamed his parents for not giving him the training and teaching him how to be a warrior in the first place. All of his sisters receive training  except for him. Every member of the Arc family is a great warrior. He wonders why he's the only one not being trained. Could it be that his parents can see that he couldn't cut it, that he's too weak and not worth the effort to train him. If he can, he wants to ask his parents why they did what they did, but he can’t go back home anymore. At least not until he becomes a great Huntsman to show everyone in his family that they were wrong. Jaune will become a great warrior or die trying. 

And of course right after he said that. He immediately slipped and fell face first on the concrete. 

"Jaune!" Pyrrha screamed. Concerned about his condition. 

"I-I'm fine…" Jaune answered Pyrrha while his face remained planted on the ground. 

"Maybe we should stop running for now?" Pyrrha said to Jaune while still on the floor. 

"Good idea." Jaune raises his thumb at Pyrrha. 

Beacon Academy’s training ground.

When the sun finally starts to rise over Beacon Academy all the members of team JNPR can be seen together practicing with their respective weapons. Jaune with his sword. 

“Eee Yah!” A strong downward slash by Jaune caused the air around him to reverberate. 'Not strong enough. Not good enough.' He said to himself with each slashes he made. Whether he's talking about his swordplay or himself is up to anyone's guess. 

Pyrrha can also be seen practicing next to him. Improving her weapon transformation speed. '1.5 second… Not fast enough. I need to be faster.'

Ren practices his striking by hitting a wooden pole. '.......' Ren's mind is too focused to think about anything unnecessary. Although if one has to guess he is still upset that the fight with Blake during their last match ended with a draw with him losing consciousness in the end. Ren knew that Blake is not weak by any means. But he shouldn't lose the way he did. If he didn't choke in the end their team would have won. And still Ren likes to think he didn't let it get to him. 

Nora on other hand practices by being Nora. "Nora Smash!" The ground broke and split in half by her weapon, the great hammer Magnhild. 

All four of them have been practicing before dawn. With Pyrrha and Jaune practicing the longest.

Their training is overseen by their team instructor. A new program instituted by Beacon Academy by having Veteran Huntsman to teach them everything they need to know about being a Huntsman. Right now the new program only applied to those that passed their initiations, the so-called "Backliners." Or people who managed to get the chess pieces and received their team names. Those that failed to get it are still able to enroll in the academy albeit in the general-education department or so called "Pawns." While they can still receive Huntsman training and can call themselves Huntsman after graduation they are not the main focus of the Academy. That privilege is reserved for those that passed the test. Such as team JNPR. And right now their training is overseen by Shion Zaiden, a veteran Huntsman specializing in Nightmare Grimms. A special kind of Grimm that can enter people's dreams to eat the person's Aura. And it is to be noted that they met before. During the Ice Queendom incident. Shion used their ability to help both Jaune and Weiss from their predicament. Right now they are looking at the team they are supposed to be in charge of. 

"I've seen enough. All right, form a single line everyone." Shion clapped their hands together to bring the team's attention. 

Team JNPR did as they were told and formed a line. 

"I don't like to go on a long winded speech so let's keep it short, okay.

Nora, you rely too much on your strength. You're maybe the strongest in terms of physical strength on your team but I want you to realize your strength can only carry you so far. Not every Grimm can be defeated by brute strength alone and certainly not every opponent."

"Yes, instructor!" Nora shouts. 

"Ren there's nothing wrong with what you're doing right now. Your fundamentals are strong and so does your strike. But what you truly lack is stamina. I suggest you follow Jaune and Pyhrra in their morning jog to increase your stamina."

"Yes, Instructor…" Finding no fault in Instructor Zaiden's words. Ren can only quietly answer with a yes. 

"Pyrrha. I can find no fault with what you're doing. But if I want to chose one that will be you take too much of the burden on yourself. You need to share some of your burden with your teammates, that's what they are for. I can't recommend anything other than team building exercise. For now just try hanging out with your friends and find something to do together." 

"Yes, Instructor Zaiden!" Pyrrha doesn't understand what Shion meant by that. Usually if someone said she is not good enough. That means she needed more training. But this is the first time someone is telling her to hang out with her friends. 

"And Jaune."

"Y-yes!!!" Jaune prematurely shouts. 

"I haven't said anything yet." 

"Y-yes o-of course. Instructor!" Jaune shouts again earning him the laughter from his fellow teammates. 

Shion joins in on the laugh too. "Ha, ha, ha, you don't have to be so tense Jaune." Shion wanted to continue but then they remembered something. 'The special case, huh?' In truth Shion has already been informed everything about Jaune. About how he falsified his document to enter Beacon, his lack of common sense in regards to hunting Grimms, about how he never unlocked his Aura before joining and most shockingly is when he did unlock his Aura the first time he managed to stop a Death Stalker in its tracks. Something doesn't add up. He fought like a complete amateur. That part is clear, but his strength and how the Nightmare only attached itself to those with strong Aura. If Jaune received the necessary training beforehands he would have been an exceptional Huntsman. Shion racked their minds as to why his parents never trained him. But decided against it the last thing they need is to meddle in family affairs. They could perhaps ask about it in the next PTA meeting. Yes, maybe they should ask his parents about it in the future. For now at least, they should focus their attention on team JNPR. 

"Hmm… Pyrrha, please continue your training with Jaune." Shion gave their best suggestion. As best as they can anyway. What Jaune lacks first and foremost is the fundamentals of being a Huntsman. Although they can teach him about it. Shion decided to let Pyrrha teach him instead. 

"Yes, instructor Zaiden!" Pyrrha's shout seems happy after hearing she can continue training Jaune. 

"All right Team, I have an announcement to make. Our team will be going on a trip." Shion tells their team. 

Nora raised her hand. "Ooh, where are we going to go? I hope it's someplace with a beach. I want to show everyone my bikini bod."

Shion giggled at Nora for almost guessing it right. "Well, you're close, but we're not going to the beach. We're going to the ocean so you are half correct."

Jaune is shocked after hearing that they're going to the ocean. "T-the Ocean?"

"Yes the ocean, is there something wrong Jaune?" Shion noticed that Jaune was hiding something. 

"N-no! There's nothing wrong. Instructor." Jaune hurriedly replied back. 

"Actually instructor Zaiden, there's something you need to know. Jaune is having a recurring nightmare about him drowning in an ocean." Pyrrha however decides to interject herself on Jaune's behalf. 

"Is it true Jaune?" Shion asked while they stared at him. 

"I-it's true instructor. I've been having the same dream where I saw myself drowning over and over again." Jaune is clearly uncomfortable remembering the experience he just had. 

"We thought seeing that you're the dream expert and all. Maybe you can tell us anything about Jaune's dream?" Pyrrha is clearly concerned about her leader and friend Jaune. 

"Wait, how come it is the first time I heard about this? Nora after hearing about Jaune's nightmare. 

"That's because you were asleep the whole time." Ren bluntly told her. 

"What! Then you should have woken me up when it did." Nora protests. 

"We tried Nora, but you kept on sleeping." Pyrrha explains to Nora. 

"It's actually quite incredible how you managed to stay asleep with all the noises." Jaune is actually impressed. 

"Hey! At least I don't wet my bed like you, Jaune." 

"I didn't wet my bed!!!" Jaune loudly denied. 

"Didn't you just say that you're drowning in your dream? That is usually a code word for wetting your bed." Nora smugly told Jaune off. 

"I never said I wet my bed!" Jaune continues to deny. 

"Hey, whatever you say Bed-wetter." Nora smiles as she imagines her team leader wetting the bed. 

"Nora. Jaune didn't wet his bed. Because I would know about it if he did. Although his bed is wet from all the sweat." Pyrrha trying her best to explain to Nora. But this just had the opposite effect. 

Nora snorted after hearing from Pyrrha. "Hah! That's what all Bed-wetters say." She then proceeded to laugh even harder.

Ren placed his hand over his face. No doubt frustrated with his partner's antics. While Jaune and Pyrrha just silently sighed in defeat. 

*cough* Shion clears their throat. "Bed wetting aside. Jaune. Can you tell me in detail the dream you had?" 

"I didn't wet my bed!" Jaune shouted in protest at the insinuation that he urinated on his own bed. 

"Oh, of course. I know that you didn't wet your bed." Their pitying gaze they gave to Jaune said otherwise. In their eyes. He might as well wet his bed. 

"I don't know how to explain it. Because even I have problems remembering it. I mean there's a.." Before Jaune can say anything however. He noticed that someone else was entering the training ground.

"Ah! There's already people here. Didn't Uncle say he already reserved this place for us? 

All of them turned their attention towards the source of the voice. "Ruby?" Jaune called out the name of the person. Just like Team JNPR. Team RWBY is already in their training clothes. 

"Jaune? Oh hey Jaune, hey Pyrrha, hey Nora, hey Ren!" The cute chipper sounding sound belongs to his friend and fellow team leader, Ruby Rose. 

" Hmph! I gotta say I don't expect team JNPR to be here this early too." Beside her is a white haired girl and Heiress to the Schnee's Dust Company. Weiss Schnee. 

"Hey everyone… *yawn* Why do we have to wake up this early in the morning anyway?" The one that's currently yawning is Blake. She's a faunus but she's currently keeping the fact that she's a Faunus a secret to everyone outside of their teams. 

"Hey the gangs are all here." The loud buxom blonde besides Blake is Yang. Ruby's older half-sister and team RWBY's main brawler. 

Hey Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang." Jaune answered back. 

And Pyrrha and Ren greet their sister team more or less in the same way. Except for Nora. 

"Oh great, here comes the main characters…" She said in a low voice that none of them could hear it. At this time no one knows how much this will become a problem in the future.

"Good morning to you too. instructor Zaiden." Ruby politely greets Shion. 

“And good morning to you too. Ms. Rose.” Shion tipped their hat to the little red reaper.

“Instructor Zaiden!..." Weiss shouted the moment she realized she saw them. "I want to say, t-thank you again for saving me…" She is clearly not used to saying thanks to someone. 

"You don't have to thank me, Weiss. It's my job as a Huntsman after all. And it's not me you should be thanking, it's your friends who risked their life in order to save you. You are very lucky Weiss and I do mean it." Shion explains. 

"T-T-thank you. And you're right I guess I am lucky to have such great friends." Weiss shying away. 

Seeing Weiss being uncharacteristically cute. Yang took this as an opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's right Weiss, baby! You finally admit that we're great friends! Best even… Dare I say BFF!" Yang said while she tightly hugged her from behind. 

Weiss felt crushed by Yang. Tried to speak out in protest. "L-let me go you huge boob!" 

"Sorry I can't hear you." Yang smiled even while the bear-hug she gave to Weiss slowly crushed Weiss's ribs. 

Ruby after seeing the sight of her sister crushing her partner. Caused her to burst into laughter. While Blake didn't laugh as hard as Ruby did. She still chuckles a little.

"Hey~ what are you girls laughing about? Did I miss something?" Said a middle-aged man with a flask in one of his hands and judging by his breath it likely contained alcohol. 

"Unca Qrow!" Ruby greeted the old man. 

"Hey Uncle, nice to finally see you wake up in the morning for once." Yang said. 

"Instructor Branwen. Are you drinking before noon?" Blake's nose no doubt picked up the scent of alcohol before he even arrived. But to her strong Faunus's nose he might as well be a walking distillery. 

"Oh great! Just our luck that our instructor is a drunkard? Is it possible to do a trade with Team JNPR?" Weiss asks while still being hugged by Yang from behind. 

"I'm flattered, Weiss, but Qrow Branwen is a better Huntsman than I could ever hope to be." Shion was humbled by Weiss's statement. 

"Ouch, ice princess. At least your sister treats me way nicer than you." Qrow ended his statement by taking a swig from his flask. 

Weiss's eyes lit up at the mention of his sister. "Wait, why do you know about my sister?" 

Qrow took another swig. “Well… Wouldn’t you like to know?” Qrow’s obvious attempt to tease her did not go unnoticed by Weiss.  

Seeing his shit-eating grin, almost made her about to lose her patience. And If she ever figured out that Qrow and her sister are friends or worse! She doesn’t care if he is Ruby’s uncle. Weiss will introduce him to Myrtenaster’s business end.  

Meanwhile, Jaune can't believe this. They're supposed to talk about the dream he keeps having. But the moment team RWBY enters the picture they steal all the attention away from him. Jaune knew this feeling quite well. As the only boy among all his other siblings. He never gets as much attention and with him being not as strong as his sisters caused him not to get much attention. 

"So anyway, how can we help team RWBY?" Shion asked all of them. Completely forgetting about Jaune's problem. 

Ruby then quickly answered. "I'm sorry, instructor Zaiden. It's not like we're trying to steal your team training spot. It's just that we thought we already made a reservation beforehand." 

"Uncle Qrow supposed to anyway." Yang added. 

"I don't like to judge people based on their outward appearance. But I don't  think Instructor Branwen can be considered reliable." Blake pinched her nose. Trying not to gag from the overwhelming smell of alcohol coming from him.

Qrow, hearing the accusation, starts to defend himself. “Hey, I resent that!. I'm pretty reliable in most situations… Just not on waking up on time.`` He finished by taking another swig. 

Finally free from Yang’s grasp. Weiss now is also free to give her opinion. “Simply put we need someplace for us to do our morning combat training. But thanks to our no good instructor. We don’t have any.” 

“Well that is serious, You sure there’s no other opening around?” Shion said while rubbing their chin.

“I’m afraid not, Instructor Zaiden especially when we’re this close to the Vytal festival. All the other places are booked, even places outside the school." Blake explains. 

"But isn't the Vytal Festival supposed to still be some time away?" Jaune asks. He might be ignorant on almost everything Huntsman related. But even he knew about the Vytal Festival. And their significance. 

A battle Festival that happens once every two years. To commemorate the peace between the four kingdoms. And this time the kingdom of Vale will be the host of the festival. So there's almost a home team pride to be found going around inside the kingdom. 

Yang answered. "That may be true for the public Jaune, but for us Huntsmen, especially those who want to prove themselves against a worthy foe. The Vytal Festival is the perfect venue to do so. Or in my case the perfect excuse to let loose once in a while." She puffed out her chest. 

Qrow smiled before he added something to the conversation. Like he was waiting for this moment to explain a part of the Vytal Festival. "And not to mention there's an estimate of Hundreds of millions of Liens changing hands during the Festivals. So it's not just for the fight the people will be interested in."

Nora's eyes widen when Qrow tells them how much Lien is involved. "Hundred Millions!!! How many Pancakes can I buy with that?!!" 

"I assume a lot…" Ren answered Nora with his eyes closed. 

"That is indeed a lot of money." Blake placed her finger on her chin. Contemplating to herself with how much money that is. 

"And all the weapon parts I can buy with that." Ruby's mind went towards buying new weapon parts for Crescent Rose. Or dare she dream. For a new weapon entirely. 

"Yep, one can make a pretty Lien just by betting on one of the fights. So Ruby, make sure you win. Because I'm going to have a lot riding on you." Qrow's motivation has been made clear. 

"I hate to tell you about this Qrow, but gambling is not exactly permitted for members of the faculty." Shion explains. 

"Well, like I always said, it's only illegal if you get caught. And you won't tell anyone about this won't you Shion?" He points his finger, with the same hand he holds his flask towards Shion. 

"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone, least of all Ozpin. We go way back after all. But please keep the gambling to a minimum. I don't want another repeat of Vacuo." They explained to Qrow hoping he would listen. 

"Well just for you I try not to bet too much. But no promise though. Especially if there's a good chance of me winning." It's not what Shion wanted but at least Qrow will try to hold back.

Although Shion hearing the parts of him winning is still strange considering his Semblance. But I guess that's probably a figure of speech. 

“It’s nice to see you again Qrow.” Shion smiled as they said that.  

Qrow, not used to someone being nice to him, quickly deflected by changing the topic. “And this must be the team you’ve been saddled with?” 

“Yes team JNPR. I would like you to meet Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha and Ren.” Shion shows their team to Qrow. 

"Tai?" Qrow can't believe his eyes after seeing Jaune. The blonde teenager looks like the spitting image of his best friend Tai when he was younger.

"Tai? Who's Tai? I'm Jaune." Jaune corrected Qrow. 

Qrow sighed. "This is what I get for drinking in the morning." Qrow places the cap back on his flask and twists it close. 

"Tai is my dad…" Ruby answered Jaune. 

"Oh, I never knew  that? Why didn't you tell me that I look like your Dad?" Jaune asks Ruby.

"You don't look like my dad! There may be some similarities but you're you. And to tell you the truth you're actually much handsomer than my dad…" Ruby hides her face from Jaune after she explains it to him and hoping to the gods he didn't hear what she just said about him. 

"Jeez Ruby, you don't have to shout at me. I was just asking. But now I kinda want to meet your dad." Jaune beaming. It is as if the depressing feeling he had earlier was never there in the first place. His bright smile caught everyone around him off guard but most notably the two girls. 

'Not fair, Jaune. You know I’m weak to your smile.’ No, he did not know about it. This is just something Pyrrha made up herself. She took in Jaune's smile like what a plant does with the sun.

Ruby however responds quite differently. She averted her gaze immediately after she saw Jaune’s smile. She hides her face from everyone. But especially from Jaune. She didn’t know why she did that. Jaune is her friend after all. She has nothing to be ashamed of. But when she saw his smile her heart started beating louder. She can’t understand why. Ever since the Ice Queendom incident. Ruby has been seeing Jaune in a different light. She still sees him as the same lovable dork. But now there's something else about him that she can't quite put into words. But it's something that Qrow can pick up. 

'Seriously Rubes. With him?' Qrow may be a drunken degenerate that on occasion gamble away his hard earned Lien. But he still can tell something is going on with his niece. 'He's definitely Tai alright.' His similarity to his friend is uncanny. If he can single out one key difference is that the boy in front of him looks dumber than Tai. Curious of the boy, he then decides to hit two birds with one stone. 

"Hey Shion, I have a proposition for you. Would you like to listen?" Qrow proposes to Shion. 

Shion noticed Qrow's grin. And realizes probably nothing good will come of it. But against their better judgement, they decided to listen to him anyway. "Okay, I'll bite, what are you suggesting?"

"Considering that we both needed this training ground, how about we decide to share it?" Qrow explains.

Shion is slightly taken aback after hearing his modest suggestion. “I-I seriously didn’t expect that you would be rather rational with this?”   

Qrow however is pissed at Shion. And spat at his direction.“What do you take me for a thug, or something?” 

“Well you do look the part Uncle Qrow. I was afraid that you would simply beat up team JNPR just to let us have access to the training field.” Yang bluntly stated.

“And in case you do, we will not accept it. We will not support bullying other people, especially our friends!” Ruby shouted her indignation.

“You know we would not be forced to… *yawn* share with team JNPR if someone did not forget to make a reservation for the field in the first place…” Blake made a not so subtle accusation towards their team instructor.

“I saw we should let him beat up team JNPR. That way we will have the perfect excuse to dump Ruby’s uncle. Sorry team JNPR but you have to take one for our team.” Weiss said half-jokingly. 

“You darn brats. Weiss and Blake I can understand but my own nieces… Am I really that untrustworthy?” Qrow retorted back not realizing that he just set himself up. 

“Yes!” Everyone in the field said in perfect unison.

“I really played myself there didn’t I?” Qrow said as he deflated himself in front of everyone.

“Well, if you cut down on your drinking maybe you will not be hated as much." Shion gleefully explained. 

"I'll take note, so Shion, what do you think about letting team RWBY join your team for exercise?" Qrow asked. 

"Of course you can. What are friends for." Shion extends one of their hands to greet Qrow. 

Qrow reached out his hand to shake Shion's to greet them back. "Thanks. And by the way, Shion. If it's not too much to ask. Can I ask to have a one-on-one match with one of our ward?" And there it is… 

Shion feared that something like this would come up. "You want to have a one-on-one match?" 

"Yes, I want to see how much my Ruby will fare against your Jaune." He said to Shion. 

"Me fighting Jaune?!" Ruby is shocked by Qrow's statement. 

"I'm sorry Qrow, but I don't think it's a good idea." Shion answered. 

Ruby breathes a sigh of relief knowing she doesn't have to hurt Jaune. But unfortunately for her fate has decided otherwise. "I want to fight Ruby!!!" Jaune screamed from the top of his lungs. 

Everyone's attention is now focused on the blonde haired boy. Pyrrha the red-haired amazoness quickly grabbed one of Jaune's arms to drag him away so she could have a few words with him. "Jaune, what are you thinking? You know you can't beat Ruby!" 

Jaune replied. "I-I want to test my strength against her." 

Pyrrha shakes her head. "There are other ways to test your strength that don't involve you getting hurt." She said with a concerned look on her face. 

Jaune bit his tongue, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I want to fight her to see that I'm strong enough. I don't want to just be protected. I need to stand on my own two feets. I want to stand beside everyone with my head held high. And most importantly I want to make you proud of me, Pyrrha…" 

Pyrrha is taken aback after hearing what Jaune has to say. Of course it's not that hard to believe after all. He's been different lately. More driven. It's like what happened with Weiss changed something within him. She didn't know what caused it at first. That is until he finally told her the reason why. She felt a sense of pride in the boy he trained. She wants to stop him before he gets hurt of course but somehow she can't find it in her to do so. Jaune simply wants to be stronger and Jaune doesn't want to be left behind by his teammates. 

"Jaune… You have nothing to prove to anyone. You're already strong." Pyrrha gives him a hug. 

"T-thank you Pyrrha, but I still need to do this…" Jaune softly answered. Clearly starting to feel unsure about his decision to face Ruby. 

"I know that Jaune. I will not try to stop you. But please, Jaune, try not to let your face get hurt again, okay?" Pyrrha playfully boops Jaune's nose. 

Jaune blushed remembering the time he hit his face on the pavement. "T-that's just that one time." He then walks away from Pyrrha while hiding his shame. 

Pyrrha giggled seeing his Jaune acting like a kid. Across the training field Ruby has issues with fighting against Jaune. But in her case it's more like she's afraid of hurting him than the other way around. 

"What were you thinking, Uncle! Do you have any idea what you did?" Ruby berated her uncle in front of her own team. 

"No. But I have a feeling you will tell me anyway." Qrow lets Ruby explain it to him. 

"I can't fight Jaune!" Ruby shouted. 

"It's just a practice match, Ruby. What do you mean you can't fight him?" Qrow asking Ruby for the why. But in truth he had a guess as to the why. 'Does Ruby have a crush on him. Is that the reason why she can't fight the brat?' He ponders. 

Ruby squirmed trying very hard to evade answering the question. 

"It's not that Uncle. Ruby has a hard time controlling her power when battling him." Yang steps in to explain it for her sister. 

"Explain what you mean by that, Yang." Qrow ordered his blonde nephew. 

"I don't know how to politely explain it… But Jaune is kinda weak. And a fight between them often ended with Jaune being hurt badly." Yang bluntly stated. 

"Yang! How could you tell him that!?" Ruby screamed at her own sister. 

"I don't know how weak this Jaune brat is but that's to be expected especially against Ruby after all." Qrow feeling a sense of pride after saying that. After all he had a hand in making Ruby strong in the first place. 

"N-no it's not like that. When I said weak, I meant weak, weak. Like he can't even hold his Aura shield properly." Yang further explains. 

Qrow's eyes widened after hearing that. "What do you mean he can't hold his Aura shield? That's second nature for Huntsman. He should learn how to hold a shield before he comes here." 

This time it's Weiss's turn to explain. Her arms are in a crossed position."That's the thing, instructor. We have to teach him… Well it's mostly Pyrrha though. We have to teach him a lot of the basics." She points out.

"Oh yeah… we did. It's. Kinda weird when you think about it. But it is still kinda odd we have to teach him something we already & he should know about." Yang just now realizes that the situation with Jaune was not normal. 

A loud yawning sound cuts into their conversation. " Yawn…. Which we don't mind doing, by the way. We see it as helping a friend. And it also helps us to review what we already learned." Blake said as she's trying her best to stay awake. 

Slipping in and out of consciousness Blake starts to wobble around where she stands until she can't stand anymore and starts to lose her balance and starts to fall. Luckily though Yang managed to catch her before she does. "Whoops, Caught you babe. You gotta be careful. Wouldn't want that pretty face of your hurt now, do we?" Yang said while holding Blake in her arms. 

The cat faunus slightly averted her gaze from her blonde haired girlfriend. The black cat simply smiles back at her with eyes half-closed and with Yang returning her smile. After the event of Ice Queendom the two have been close. So much in fact that the two are now a couple. 

"Okay, lovebirds. Wait until we return back to the dorm room to flirt all you want." Weiss commented on the two. 

"Hater. Homophobe!" Yang playfully tease the white heiress.

Weiss responds by just shrugging. Qrow having had enough with the conversation going off topic decides to forcefully steer the conversation back. "Okay congrats on being a couple you two. But can we go back to the blonde bra-I mean Jaune?" 

Yang turned her gaze back towards Qrow. "Well there's not much else to tell really other than that. We know he's not as strong compared to us." 

“That still tells me nothing about the boy.” Qrow loudly sighed so everyone could hear him. "Anyway Ruby, please go and fight Jaune." He asked her again. 

"I said I won't do it!" Ruby vehemently said. Qrow looks at her and sees that she is being serious for once. 

Qrow didn't expect this from Ruby. Especially knowing that she usually jumps at a chance in having a battle with anyone. "I won't repeat myself again, Rubes." 

"I said no!" She stares back at him as if she would rather fight against her own uncle than her friend Jaune.

Qrow is genuinely surprised by Ruby's reaction. She's never been this confrontational before with him. Under normal circumstances he would have been proud of her. Imagine his favorite niece being rebellious just like Yang… On second thought, it's probably best that she doesn't. In response he walks up to Ruby in a menacing fashion. Looking down on her like she is no longer his niece. In an instance he is no longer the fun uncle Qrow. He is now Qrow the Huntsman. "Ruby…" He said with a coldness that Ruby never felt before. 

'Uncle Qrow?' Ruby looks up to him and when she does. She wishes she had never done so. She had never seen him like this before. Qrow being mad that is. His eyes feel like he could kill someone with it and his stare burning whatever that is left. She never knew her uncle could be so scary. But then again, did she ever know him that well to begin with. Half the time she only seen him drunk and the other half cracking jokes while drunk. 

He then continues to speak. "If you don't fight him. I will… And I will not hold back." In contrast to his rather frightening appearance, his voice seems rather cold and emotionless.

"W-what!" Ruby is honestly at a loss for word after hearing him. 

"So… What's it going to be?" His tone goes from cold to threatening. 

Ruby is stuck between a proverbial rock and a hard place. If she fight Jaune. She will no doubt hurt him badly and she will never forgive himself for it. But if she didn't fight him. Then her uncle will fight Jaune and he will no doubt do to him far worse than she can ever do to him. But at least she will not have to bear the guilt of hurting her best friend. 

[alexturne]

8, 12 and 49 for the ask game!! and 50 :3

Thank yoooouuu 😘 I'm stealing your very brilliant idea of screenshotting the questions!

Oh, great question! I actually used to be very inspired by AM songs and lyrics when I first started writing. Having a lyric pop out to me and spark a whole story in my head or a simple line becoming the title of a fic I simply had to write. Hence why all my fics have lyrics as their titles 😎

To answer the question! Temptation Greets You Like Your Naughty Friend! I've got a very tiny wip called "keep your charm where i can't see it (and your hands where i can)" because I just LOOOOOVE that line. And it sparks so much tension and temptation and I had the idea of a spin the bottle/get drunk at a house party/accidentally make out with your friend and BOOM find out you feel very differently than you thought about said friend. The whole trying to resist the temptation because it just feels so good but you don't want to ruin the friendship... That kinda thing. Who knows if it will ever see the light of day 😘

Hmm, I don't know if there are any tropes really to speak of that I didn't like.. But I've gotten a lot better at reading scary/horror themed stories. We have so many incredibly talented writers in this fandom who write the most amazing scary stories and I simply had to learn 😂 Even if they still scare me sometimes! I don't really think I'll ever be able to write any myself tho. The closest I've managed is a very brief wip inspired by What We Do In The Shadows, and let's be real, that's really not scary at all 😂

Ooohh. My current wip is... Well, it's really my white whale. The one that keeps me up at night. It's the first milex fic I ever came up with, the thing that really started it all. And it's just. My baby. I love it so much and I've literally been trying to write it for TWO YEARS and it's just the most difficult thing I've ever tried to write. I'm at about 70k at this point and every word is a struggle but I want it done. I don't know if the two years of effort will be evident in the final work so don't have too high expectations please, but it's just so very important and special to me.

It will be called "you've got control of everyone's eyes (including mine)". And here is a small snippet:

Miles just looked at him, as if expecting Alex to say something. But if Miles thought his mere presence alone was enough to rattle Alex, to throw him off his game, he thought wrong! If he thought he could come here and ruffle Alex's feathers and get him all worked up he was sorely mistaken. Alex didn't care! Not one bit. He was cool. Miles had no effect on him whatsoever. Not tonight, that was for sure, if that's what he thought. Alex was calm and collected and all that.

Aaahhhh you made me choose one too 😂🥰

I'll take this cheeky opportunity to talk about question 17, an au I would like to read/write even if no one else will appreciate it..

Because that's the second long wip I've got going at the moment.

I'm writing a high school rivals fic, complete with americanized stereotypes, the hot jock, the mysterious punk badboy, the obnoxious gossipy cheerleaders.. and of course it's just chuckful of cheesy 90/00s romcom teen moments. Something along the lines of movies like 10 things I hate about you, bring it on, good old stuff. I adore it so far and I really hope I'll one day be able to finish it as well! 💅✨

Thank you so much for the lovely questions!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Not a chapter of my lil fic cuz I'm still workin on it, but here's a short lil unfinished thing I wrote last night. I...think it's some sort of space story? It's loosely based off something I read on ao3 some time ago, but I dunno the title of it. This isn't too descriptive, just a short prologue to a thing I'll probably never write, but here it is anyways.

Hope the little skit satisfies for now!

Despite being on this ship for perhaps three weeks after your initial capture, you found yourself…much less panicked that you actually should be. 

I mean, yes, you obviously struggled when two beings unlike anyone or anything you’d ever seen before graced you with their presence by throwing you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. And yes, you were still very much on guard whenever they came in to check on you, hunching in on yourself slightly and regarding them with a wary gaze. You’d taken up your old college habit of staying up at obscene times, though this time it was to avoid being messed with without you knowing rather than cramming for exams. But aside from their first encounter with you, the strangers had mostly kept to themselves, only coming close to add to your new living space or bring you something to eat. 

That was another thing that threw you off, besides your strange lack of fear. You hardly had any idea where you were aside from the fleeting glimpses of brightly lit corridors and dark hallways over the shoulder of your abductors, but from what you gathered, this…whatever-it-is (you’d mentally associated it with a glorified flying saucer) wasn’t built to accommodate for more than two people. And yet immediately after entering, you’d been gently shoved into a room of your very own.

In what world is a hostage given their own room?

Not that it was the most glamorous room. It was the size of a typical bedroom, with stark white walls and no openings except a door which seemingly appeared from the wall itself whenever your captors entered. A few pillows and a meager amount of sheets that served as bedding had been added not long after, as well as some clothing you assumed they’d raided from your closet judging by how similar they were to your own wardrobe. It was a humble living environment. Not that you could complain. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. You hadn’t thought you’d be given anything to eat at the start of your imprisonment, much less your own space without constant surveillance. There probably were cameras around here somewhere, though, now that you thought about it. (You’d twisted your ankle after the small scuffle in an attempt to escape the blue one’s clutches, and had received something equivalent to an ice pack not long after. )

Two trays had been set out beside where the door should be, constantly switched out with food and water your hosts had set out for you. 

It had become evident that these two knew very little about your species early on. The first few hours had been fine until your stomach began violently protesting its lack of sustenance (you’d neglected to have dinner the evening of your capture) through dying whale noises and short pangs that grew uncomfortably prominent with every passing minute. They’d presented you with...something, that time. You still aren’t sure what to call it, in all honesty. It resembled an octopus tentacle cooked over an open fire for so long it’d been charred, then cooked into a spoiled egg and topped with some gray sludge with ingredients you hadn’t dared to ask about. You had stared at the concoction in confusion and disgust for a hot minute before they’d taken your repulsion as a sign that whatever dish they’d made wasn’t going to cut it. They then tried with things you recognized to originate from Earth, but that hadn’t gone well either. You’d found a rock in the tray after that first attempt and eyed it quizzically, unsure of what exactly they thought you would do with it. You felt like someone watching their cat proudly show off the dead bird it had caught. 

It would’ve been funnier if you weren’t being actively starved.

  You’d struck gold when they brought you a mango a day or two after. You’d been so hungry from the extended period without food that you’d very nearly eaten the thing without removing the skin out of sheer relief to see something edible. 

You’d found a marble-white bathroom soon after that meal. How running water worked on a spaceship, you didn’t know, nor did you really care.

More complications had risen later on, of course. You’d taken note of the language barrier when you heard the pair conversing amongst themselves in a dialect unknown to you and everyone else on your planet. It hadn’t bothered them as much as it bothered you, however; You were the one being held hostage by extraterrestrials without knowing what they planned to do with you. They hadn’t made any effort to communicate with you outside of waiting for your reaction to their offerings, instead speaking over your head with nods and glances in your direction as the only indicator of your involvement in whatever subject at hand. 

Figures. They probably didn’t think you were capable of complex thought, considering the accommodations set up for you were akin to that of a dog.

That’s probably why they wanted you aboard, anyway. If they’d wanted assistance or information or something of value, they would’ve taken a scientist or an engineer or someone who had actual credentials to back up their name. They probably only saw you as some exotic pet or some strange new specimen to experiment on.

 You may be giving yourself a little too much credit, though. It might not have mattered who or what they were getting if they had the same opinions towards your species as a whole. Maybe they’d just picked you out of some random gamble for a test subject. 

In spite of all your concern towards the reason behind your capture, you were finding it surprisingly less awful than expected. Out of all the kidnappings to ever occur, you’re most likely getting the better deal here. You have free meals, a room to yourself, health benefits should you get injured…

Shit, is this how people felt in prison?

No, probably not. At least in prison the inmates were given something to do.

Your room was pretty much empty outside your basic necessities, which meant you essentially just stared up at the bleached wall upside-down on the pathetic excuse for a bed, scanning for any imperfections without books, technology, work or any form of entertainment to pass the time. You had taken up the habit of using the rock you were given to scratch out tallies of the days into the wall like you’d seen in the movies, watching your captors carry out whatever tasks while doodling aimlessly on the floor just for some way to fill the constant void of boredom. 

Three weeks in and you’re pretty sure you’re going to end up losing your sanity if you catch yourself counting imaginary dents in markless walls for amusement.

[theriverspath]

Master List of My Scribbles

No need to scroll through this blog to find my scribbles. Here's a list of what I've written so far, grouped into series. Ratings vary, anything Mature or Explicit will be labelled so.

Unforgiven: An American teen human au built around Metallica lyrics (wip)

Don't Say A Word

The One Who Cares

Reaching Out

Sleep With One Eye Open / Struggle Within

Shape Shift

Good Talk: Aziraphale and Crowley learn to use their words in the South Downs Cottage (Mature)

Insomnia

Cowardice

Beyond the Kilt: Modern AU Aziracrow Get Kinky and Catch Feels (Explicit, wip)

Kilt and Curls

Pulling the Python

Can I Watch?

One and Two-shots

Holidays at the Device-Pulsifer's

The Demon Went Down ch1

2b. The Demon Went Down ch2 (Explicit)

The Bentley and the Flying Scooter

Poetry

Juliet Crowley on the Balcony

moving day

The Serpent's Regret

Flavor

Trembling

Meta and Miscellaneous

The Grand Opening

In From the Cold

Books = Love

I made crêpes! (A mini celebration of fandom.)

Turning the Bookshop Sign into a Needlepoint Bookmark: Designing and Charting, Painting, Stitching, Finishing

Pepper the Whale

Ineffable May 2024 Prompt List (A mix of art and fiction.)

Before the Beginning

Naked Man Friend

Bookshop

Disaster Puppy

Retired

Apology

Coffee

Records

Turtleneck (Mature)

Pub

Book of Job

Clue

Heavenly Hosts

Agents of Hell

Promotion

1827

Inspector Constable

The Bentley

Temptation

Vavoom

Disguise

1941

Shopkeepers

Smitten

While We Dance

Halo

Flashback

Bureaucracy

Metatron

Us

The Second Coming (Explicit)

Good Omens November 2023 Daily Writing Challenge

Hello, Adam

Cozy Bureaucracy

Drama by the Ocean

Celestial Teas

Beads and Beignets

Kilt and Curls: Chapter 1 of an 18+ Good Omens AU (Explicit)

Breakfast at the Device-Pulsifer's

Besotted

I Know What You Taste Like

The Plan

(Coming soon to ao3)

The Anchor

Internal Memorandum

The Last Time

The Announcement

15b. The Song of the Supreme Archangel: Chapter 1

Baby Talk

Quench

Eggsactly

The Song of the Supreme Archangel: Chapter 2

Rainbow Battlebots

Perfect

The Song of the Supreme Archangel: Final Chapter 3

(Coming soon to ao3)

Baby, I Love Ya

A Little Nap

Death is a White Horse: Part Three of a Good Omens / Valdemar Crossover (Mature)

Life is a Party: Part One of a Good Omens / Valdemar Crossover Fic

The Long Pine Box

Love is a Bond: Part Two of a Good Omens / Valdemar Crossover Fic

Keep Warm

[moth--knight]

For the asks~ 18, 7, 6 and 🌈 + 💞

HIIIII SAINT ! ! ! hope you are well :D thank you for the asks, answers below the cut, you know the drill lmao

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

Does anyone?

I will say I read fic pretty often. I usually check the tags of whatever I am into at the moment one/twice a week after I have worked through the most popular fics and then everything else. I try to read as much as a I can when I enter a new fandom, and then whatever new catches my eye. I usually read before bed, which is dangerous, because then I am awake until 4am sobbing into my pillow. Lmao.

Writing.....is chaos. I like to listen to music while I write. But I do not have a "routine." Last week I wrote 3 fics/11000+ words total on a whim. This week? My brain is soup. So.

I have ADHD routines are hard etc etc

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

sorry for talking about this fic so much like a crazed fan but I lowkey AM a crazed fan. passing notes by mississippiwriterinjackson. whew boy. I am so soft for love letters/notes. this fic felt like it wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed. so lovely.

also I keep coming back to To Lose You by Wilmaa. I am executing them for their crimes. this fic was so fucked up. and so delicious. they started it last year and I bullied them for months to finish and upload it. and now I spend much of my time crying over it. amen.

6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh?

the comments on my last bayojeanne fic which included such gems as "I was close to throwing up" ; "I need you to atone for your sins as soon as possible." ; "I don't wish this kind of situation even on my biggest enemy DAMN" ; "This is the gayest version of homophobia I’ve ever seen" ; "Thank you for sharing 5,689 words of gay hate crime"

in terms of actual fics I do not have answer rn I have been reading a lot of angst recently

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

THIS FIC was/is my white fucking whale. I am still not happy with it. I love love love the concept so much but I just couldn't stick the landing. people were/are so kind about it but man. I really struggled on portraying a realistic development of bayo and jeanne's relationship. aughhhhh.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

CHARACTERS. ALWAYS. I will read pretty much anything if the characterization is spot on. (Saint, your fic Your Soul Was Never Yours is a perfect example of this - I struggled a bit with the abstract structure but the characterization was so fucking good that I devoured it and have re-read it multiple times).

I do not care if the plot is generic I do not care if the language is perfect I do not care if the world feels a bit iffy. I am there to giggle and twirl my hair over the characters.

This goes for original work too. If your characters are strong I will be invested. I do love world building and plot, and people who can write purple prose well drive me insane (/pos) but characters are everything to me. If your characters are boring I will not give a damn even if everything else is AWESOME.

I will say when it comes to fic.....formatting is perhaps more important because I just straight up don't read anything that is poorly formatted. If you upload one huge paragraph I am so sorry but i am not reading. Or if you don't use quotations " " for characters speaking. So. Maybe formatting is the most important to me lmao. Since I have a no tolerance policy for it.

[moongumi]

HOW YOUR NA'VI FUCKS YOU

⟶ cw. drabble, explicit, smut, pwp, size-kink, size play, exophilia, marking, biting, alien-fucking, squirting, fingering, oral (m+f), cervix fucking + more

a/n. hoya, this truly came out of horniness for the blue aliens i desire, i wanna write full fics at some point but i hope these satisfy my fellow alien-fuckers.

the na'vi, is huge. he towers you, double the height of a normal human male. his size is reflective elsewhere too. his shaft is large, too long and too thick–he doesn’t care, he believes that it will fit. he does everything to make sure it fits, he makes sure the entire thing fits even if he goes inch, by inch, by inch–torturing himself, resisting his animalistic urge to completely pound you into the wet mulch.

the na'vi, marks you. he clings onto you when his entire length is inside of you. he holds you tightly, his large blue hands leaving handprints all over you, mostly your hips, upper arm, under your thighs…and your neck, oh your throat–constantly covered in a large handprint, he gifts you necklaces large enough to cover them when around the tribe but hell, he doesn’t let you wear it when you’re alone. 

the na'vi, bites. his fangs, nips, chews at your soft skin. he utters words like, “human, your skin is as soft as whale blubber.”. hard to understand until you were given blubber to try. he loves when you’re on your knees, chest dug into ground with your back arched. ass bare for him, he nips them before completely devouring your cunt.

the na'vi, loves the way you taste. he can't stop, he makes you cum too many times. your juices taste like nectar to him, the rarest kind. he would awaken you with a taste for himself and even put you to bed with his head between your legs, his tongue deep inside penetrating you, curling his tongue along all the ridges and cavities he can find.

the na'vi, is needy. he’s always wanting you. he wants to explore you, how different you are to his kind. he plays with you anytime he gets, fingers deep inside feeling for anything new–he loves the sounds it makes, the wet squelches and the way when he moves too much liquids squirt out and you whimper in into your fists trying to make no noise.

the na'vi, always plays with you outdoors. he enjoys fucking you under the moonlight the most, with the glow of the scrubs and trees around. he likes the way the colours bounce off your bare skin, hue completely different to his own. 

the na'vi, stares, he stares at the way his cock stretches you–his cock the size of your arm somehow fits. humans must’ve been made for this. the lips curl, fat plump lips–hug his cock, dragging and sucking him back in when he would thrust, he loved doing it slowly, seeing the way your cunt moves, leaving trails of your white cum all over his blue cock.

the na'vi, loves your mouth. the way it chokes on his cock, taking it deep inside your throat. he loves the colours of your tongue, the way it mixes with his–the way it’s so hot and warm when he feels it with his tongue. 

the na'vi, palms your tits. his kind don’t have large tits like yours. they jiggle when he fucks you from any angle and he always wants his hands or mouth on them. 

the na'vi, melts from the tunes of your voice. your moans, groans, whimpers and cries–he hears them in his sleep. the way your lips fall apart, you’re unable to resist making those little noises for him.

the na'vi, allows you to mount him. it’s his favourite position. watching the way you struggle to sit on his cock properly, constantly adjusting and begging him for help. his large hands holding onto your much smaller hips–helping guide you as your body shudders and shakes from the pleasure. he loves the way your small hands rest on his chest as you ass bounces on his cock, whimpering. he sees the way his cock looks inside of you, he can see it when you sit and stare it him, telling him, “i’ve taken all of you, look.” you rest his palms on your stomach, the ridge of his head inside can be felt from above your belly button. it makes him harder to know you can take so much for such a small being.

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

[hellerism]

hi i just have to thank you for mentioning Not Easily Conquered! i don’t even usually read stucky/marvel but oh my god i cannot stop thinking about that fic even though i finished it four days ago. i think it changed me forever. so i have to know if you know of any similar fics, either stucky specifically or that level of quality in any fandom bc clearly you’ve got great taste lol. ty in advance! <3

oh wow i’m so glad you liked it! it ruined my fucking life when i was a 16 year old stucky stan and even now when i dislike them there’s just something special and insanity inducing contained in that fic. it’s one of the most romantic things i’ve ever read in my life and i will never be over it. and thank you for the compliment >:) the secret to good taste in fic is only read fics that have been thoroughly vetted beforehand

as for other fics…ummm to be honest i don’t really read a lot of fic. i don’t know of any stucky fics that are on the level of nec but i can list off a few well-written ones that i remember being my favorites

no matter how long the day is (i’ll come home to you) by alby_mangroves and talkplaylove: steve is the regular canon captain america struggling to adjust to modern day life. he meets bucky, a civilian bookshop owner, and they bond while bucky helps to ground him in modern life

thirty-eight days and counting by thecommodore_squid: bucky is in witness protection and steve is the agent assigned to protect him. posing as his husband ofc. clintasha is there as a supporting couple

various stucky fics by thebrotherswinchester: these fics were all deleted from ao3 bc the author started publishing real books but you can download the pdfs from that link. i don’t remember the plots of most of them but i know they were well-written. the reason i bring them up is bc this author wrote one of my favorite fics ever which i’ll mention later

where there’s no end or need for goodbyes by buckyjerkbarnes: bucky is a lighthouse keeper and steve washes up on his island after a storm one day. bucky patches him up and they start to get to know each other. i really debated including this one bc it was my white whale when i was in the stucky trenches. it’s a wip that was abandoned halfway through and steve and buckys relationship isn’t even close to being resolved. but the writing is good enough that i think it’s worth the lack of closure and you can just like imagine for yourself what happens next

for other fandoms

i’m assuming you know the spn classics but my personal favorites are and this, your living kiss and so says the sword

this could be a city by cherryice: spn, deanbenny. i have to spread the deanbenny agenda or i’ll die. alternate s8 where benny stays in the bunker. examines and begins to dismantle the tenets of monster hunting. found family galore. plate tectonics. my deanbenny scholar bestie swears by the rest of cherryice’s fics too but this is the only one of theirs i’ve personally read

tell me about the big bang by thebrotherswinchester: star wars, finnpoe. post-tfa character study of finn adjusting to. like. being a person instead of a stormtrooper. it was written before tlj so there’s no reference to any of that bullshit. this is the fic i mentioned before. its one of my favorite fics of all time and i reread it yearly. it’s got a few off moments but if you’re not a militant finn stan like me they won’t bother you

i loved you first by thirdactlove: tenet, protagoneil. only read this one if you’ve seen tenet as it won’t really make sense otherwise. follows neil before, during, and after the events of the movie and details his relationship with the protagonist. the sequel follows the protagonist and does the same from his own pov. had me writhing around in my bed at 3am out of misery and lovesickness

[achubbydumpling]

@thecupcakesfromthestart replied to your post “I just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to the continuation of Soft and Safe! And I was wondering, how big are you planning on making Bucky in that fic? I hope you're having a great day :)”:

can we bring this back ? :)

​ah my white whale

no, but I'm glad you bring this up because this story has been on my mind for more than a year now and it has spun off in a completely different direction than I had originally thought it would go

I struggle with writing longer stories but I don't want to leave Soft and Safe unfinished either, I do have a bunch of notes, individual scenes and an almost-finished chapter 4, but I can't give you an exact date when I'll update.

Just know it's not abandoned!

[abeautifuldayfortea]

Birth Pt. 1

Summary: Rosie delivers her fourth child, SR 1427. Tolkien barely writes about women. also read as: we need some strong women characters. Written with my OC Estella (by canon, Merry’s wife), but you can change her name to YN if you wish (InteractiveFics or Word Replacer II). Written hastily, will not edit till next week.

Warnings: Childbirth, blood, mentions of death

A/N: A self indulgent fic about the use of ergot as a vasoconstrictor before the advances and application of oxytocin in modern medicine to control severe postpartum haemorrhage. Severe postpartum haemorrhage is considered to be an obstetric emergency and time is of the essence. Historical use of vaginal douching, ergot or ‘labour tea’ as it was known and vaginal packing with rags  are recorded to reduce the mortality rate of women experiencing PPH. Blood transfusion was also an effective method of treating PPH, but I doubt that hobbits would have known about this as they were fond of simple things and disliked machines more complex than a mill. 

Fun fact: LSD also happens to be derived from ergot alkaloids. Ergotism was also known as St Anthony’s Fire. Don’t do drugs.

You can read more about the historical management of PPH here:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1633559/

https://mro.massey.ac.nz/bitstream/handle/10179/3299/02_whole.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y

Words: 1411

The air hung low in the artificial darkness of the room. It felt too small, as if she was a burgeoning whale growing until the walls of smial that cradled her would shudder and the earth about them collapse. On the bedside table the preparations had been made. The linens and towels, each meticulously washed were pressed and folded. Upon the floor, a bucket of water rippled to the rhythm of soft padding of feet outside the room. She smiled, Sam had always been the more anxious of the two of them and where he could not follow, his feet would bore ruts in the floor. This was not at all Rosie’s first child. In fact, it was her fourth and at this point she rather cheerfully opted to call herself an ‘experienced amateur’ on the process.

This time, she had not felt the warm fluid run down her leg until her visiting friend, Estella had gasped at the liquid pooled by her feet. In a whirlwind that Rosie barely remembered she was swept up in her husband’s strong arms and laid her upon the bed before he was shooed out rather unceremoniously.

Then all too soon for her liking, it began. The one thing that Rosie certainly did not miss was the pain. As she pushed, she moaned with the feeling of being rended from the inside out with a rake, of tearing and burning as if her skin could no longer contain the spontaneous combustion within. The contractions came and went like the coming and going of the tide, only much faster. She felt as if the world about her continued to spin at a dizzying speed. Round and round the stars in her mind roared past and the aging of the world unravelled as the room filled with scent of her sweat and tears, hanging stagnant.

The brief feeling of a cold cloth applied to her forehead every so often was a temporary relief. The heat and the stuffiness of the still air nauseated her and the urge to throw up bobbed just below the surface of her sanity. Distantly, like white noise underwater, she registered the sound of encouraging words formed on familiar lips, but the language itself was lost to her and in that moment, surrounded by familiar faces of her friends, she was truly alone, walking upon a road of motherhood with not much at all to guide her. Rosie was not afraid, but that did not make her fearless and though she was alone, not once did she cower at the journey. Instead, she pushed forward with grim determination.

How much time had passed, she did not know. With a final push, the child slid free of her and Rosie sobbed silently into her wet pillow with the heaving exhaustion and the feeling of emptiness that filled her. “Another beautiful bairn, Rosie! A lovely, sprightly lad! May I?” Estella asked as she gingerly passed to Rosie the new life that lay, squalling, wet, red and wrinkled beneath the muslin towels. And seeing his tiny form cradled there in her arms Rosie was enthralled in the wonder of that singular moment. She nodded as she nursed her newborn, half awake in bliss and tiredness, knowing what Estella was asking permission for. The sensation of something being tugged and the wet mass of the placenta slithering out of her and against her thighs.

Someone had left the room and invited in the light and the fresh air and with it came Sam. In half a moment he was by her side and behind him toddled little Elanor Fairbairn, a spry four years old and curious as a fox. Her siblings were surprisingly sound asleep in the breaking dawn.

A slight smile came to Estella as she turned her attention away from the loving couple, leaving them to their quiet whispers as they tended to their love. The labour was a long one and lasted all through the evening and to the morning. Like a garden it flowers, she mused as she ran her fingers over the placenta. It was whole. She let out a breath of relief. Everything was progressing just fine.

And yet she paled at the piping voice of Elanor. “Mummy’s bleeding.”

The sheets were stained with a growing pool of red and Rosie cried out in surprise. Never had this happened to her before in her other children. Sam looked searchingly at Estella for answers and his eyes held her in that plea of desperation.

Save her.

But Estella did not have time to explain as she looked him evenly in the eyes. Her breath shuddered as she clamped down on the visceral fear in front of her. “Sam, I need you to boil the water and brew some ergot tea. Keep it in the water for three minutes, but not more. Get me as many towels as you can.” Her hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the jar of ergot, struggling to find the clasp on its lid. The dark contents in its clear container defied her, so close and so far, mocking her in her incompetence. Measuring out the ergot hastily, she handed it to Sam who took it wordlessly and disappeared to the kitchen.

An aide ushered Elanor out of the room.

“You’re going to be just fine, Rosie. I need you to lie back down again and slow your breathing. Can you tell me what you see on the ceiling?”

They had attempted to douche Rosie at first but where they cleaned, the blood seemed to return and so they resorted to packing her with rags torn hastily from the manchester. The flood kept coming even as Estella frantically stuffed the pushed the cloth into her and yet the red bled through like an overgrowth of deathly flowers.

The iron tang of her blood filled the air and it struck Rosie then with the very real fear that she would die then. She wanted to send for her husband then so that she may say goodbye, but the air from her fluttering lungs would not carry her words.

Her breath came in quick huffs now and the vision began to blur. Her pulse quickened. The warm grip of a calloused hand on hers that she recognised as Sam’s comforted her and though she could barely see him then, she could tell by the warm liquid on her face that he was weeping.

How cold you are, my Rosie! He seemed to be saying as he rubbed her arms.

But something warm was on her lips, a liquid trickling into her mouth and she swallowed wordlessly as someone ladled tea for her. She did not know what it was, but she did not have the strength to refuse it.

In the dark of her blindness and the room about her Rosie was suspended in time, between the world of the living and the warm pull of a long sleep that swathed her. It was as though she herself were back in the womb of her mother, only it was the smell of iron and earth that surrounded her. She had a thought then that perhaps death was not so bad after all. The drum of her own heartbeat filled her ears as she slipped from the waking world.

Beyond her knowledge, Estella checked her pulse and was relieved to find it had slowed back down. They had weathered the worst of the storm. She eyed the soaked rags at the foot of the bed and between her legs. Now began the long and anxious wait to see if septicaemia would take hold of her. Quietly, as Sam held Rosie and her newborn in a loose embrace, she began the long and tedious work of cleaning up. The bedsheets and the towels she gathered into the now empty bucket to be burned and the jar of ergot left uncovered on the bedside table she recovered, praising Eru as she did so. She was thankful that no convulsions plagued Rosie, for the use of ergot had many undesirable and often life threatening side effects.

Leaving the couple be, she gathered her things and retreated to the guest bedroom. Left behind in their shared room, Sam blearily opened his eyes, swollen from crying and briefly registered a shadow that rounded the corner of the door. A croaking ‘Thank you’, chasing after their form. 

Closing her door gently with a click, Estella waited a moment to make sure she was alone before casting herself onto the floor. With a silent ferocity, she wept. Trembling, she fell then into a careless sleep and through many dreams that she would not remember afterward.​

Tag list:

@moriamithril

[captain-mellark]

Something Like That (Part One)

This is the first Everlark fic I've written in a long time. I have to express my deepest and most sincere thanks to my beta, @mandelion82​. She encouraged me and reassured me through the entire process of writing. I can guarantee you this would have not been possible without her! I know part one is SUPER short but I wanted the story to be evened out a bit. 

Ao3: Something Like That

There was no warning label that came with pregnancy. Even the simplest of tasks are near impossible with a belly this big and Katniss has had enough. However, her blond husband knows just the trick that will bring her out of her discomfort.

I shuffle through the mudroom and down the back steps into the backyard. The empty wicker basket leans against my left hip as I waddle through the grass to the clothes line. A swift kick in my side causes me to startle and draw a sharp breath.

“Easy does it on the ribs, guys. I didn’t mean to squish you with the basket, but you didn’t need to kick me,” I heartily scold. Twins.

Of course, it’s twins. Why wouldn’t it be twins? The thoughts that raced through my head when the district healer told me about the twins were none too kind. But now, it’s different and I didn’t know I could love something so much. Ten years post-war has brought new life to District 12 and new life within me. Literally.

I rub my swollen belly with a slight smile. The one on the right will reflect Peeta’s personality, while the one on the left will definitely reflect my own. The feisty one has been excruciatingly active. Kicking me, moving around, and twirling their hands in a circular motion to get me to wake up from a deep sleep. The calm one kicks only when kicked by their current roommate. Their movements are gentle, soft, so different from their sibling. Whether they’re girls or boys, or even one of each, we are so ready to meet them.

After placing the basket on the step ladder next to me, my arms reach up to remove the pins off the line. Shirts, trousers, undergarments, socks, aprons, dresses, and maternity clothes all glide on the wings of the wind as I pick them off one-by-one.

And then, I drop a sock.

“Damn it,” I mutter.

Another kick to the side.

I roll my eyes as I push on the spot of my abdomen where my child nudged me. “Fine! Darn it,” I correct.

My gaze turns to the sock for a long while. How on earth am I going to pick that up?

Any effort to pick up said sock by bending over, I know, is hopeless. Nearly nine months pregnant, my physical actions are rather limited.

I reach for the small step ladder for balance and squat down. My fingers stretch as far as they can towards the stupid sock, but I come up empty. I attempt several more strategies, but none seem to reach the end goal. To. Pick. Up. That. Stupid. Sock.

My arms cross and rest on my stomach as I huff in frustration. I just want to get the laundry done so I can take a nap! There was no warning about the daily struggles of pregnancy. I suppose no woman warns another of these said struggles because that would be undermining the joy that children bring. Rest assured, this is the last time I’m getting pregnant.

“Ya know, you can always ask for help when you need it.”

I redact my previous statement. Peeta leans against the door frame that leads to the porch. He has a sweet smile on his face while snacking on an apple. His white shirt clings to his muscles, and his dark trousers are tight in all the right places. He’s handsome, and he knows it. I would take him here and now if it weren’t for looking like a beached whale. Damn you, hormones.

I scowl at him. “I don’t need help.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Kinda looks like you do.”

My scowl deepens. “Instead of standing there, why don’t you come down here and help me pick up your stupid sock!”

He laughs at my indecisiveness and tosses the apple core into the yard for the critters to enjoy. He saunters over to me, bends to pick up the sock with envious ease, and hands it to me with a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I teased you. Your stubbornness makes it quite easy,” he says.

I can’t blame him. I do the same thing sometimes when he gets frustrated with a new recipe he’s trying for the bakery.

“It’s fine.”

He pulls me in and plants a loving kiss on my lips. His lips are tender on mine while he gently caresses my stomach; suddenly, I feel both of them move under their father’s touch.

I pull away from Peeta with a hiss, and he grips my stomach a little harder. “Woah! That was quite a bit of movement,” he says, his eyes full of wonder.

“Yeah, they’ve been active all morning. More so than normal,” I reply.

Something flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head and decides against whatever captured his thoughts.

“Why don’t you come inside for lunch? I’ve made you something special from the bakery.”

My interest peaks. “Ooh, like a surprise?”

He smiles brightly and kisses my cheek. “Something like that.”

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory- Bonus Vergil Ending

Author’s notes: So. This took me a really long time to write, and...well...I dont really know what to say about that. To be honest, the V ending got a lot of complaints, and it really tore down my motivation and confidence for this fic, for writing in general. Not to mention I was trying to get my life together for the beginning of this year, but the virus shit kind of ruined everything so im just...dead for the most part. Shit sucks, I’m tired, but...I felt bad about never giving this ending, so i did my best to make it something worth reading for you all. Im sorry it took so long, im sorry i never write or post anymore. Im just really doing my best to get through each day, and im really grateful for those of you who stuck around, and those who didnt

Heres to, hopefully, more writing in the future.

Bonus Chapter

Vergil’s alternate ending

So lost in the gravity of the moment, minds addled and fogged with sadness, pain, and rage...neither man heard you.

The Outsider didn’t notice you snap out of the pocket Void he held you in, didn’t hear the shattering of obsidian and the distant howl of a thousand voices screaming their denial, their sheer despair at your choice. After all, this place was a part of you--The void wanted it too, ached and craved and begged for his punishment. The man who caused you so much pain, left abandoned and alone to suffer all the agonies a world could offer. Surely this could not be, surely you weren’t making this choice, willingly embracing this agony in all its absolute brilliance?

 It hurt, it hurt. The pain was so fresh and alive, it rattled through your bones and spread like boiling, freezing water through every joint and tendon. Memory had always been your burden, from the moment you entered the Void to every fresh breath of it you drew to fight being swallowed whole by the inky abyss. And now those memories were like brands, searing into your skin and leaving scars so deep that they were numb. The burn didn’t stop, and neither would the images that came with them.

Images of your baby. Your son--Nero.

The instant you relieved that moment, saw his tiny form peppered with a tuft of white hair upon a shivering head you screamed, thrashing against the obsidian hands holding you back. One by one they shattered, shards drifting into absolute nothingness like dust floating on the breeze. More and more they came, trying to wipe it all away. And still...you writhed, shouted, held onto every moment, every pain. The guilt was more agonizing than anything else, sending your limbs trembling and mouth open in a soundless cry to join the ever shrieking masses. You left him, you forgot him. Your flesh and blood, your son left on a doorstep alone to grow up feeling abandoned and neglected. 

No amount of power could change what had happened to your mind, to your body bleeding out on a sidewalk. Strength was just a fleeting concept then, a whispered promise of brighter futures than your soul was made to endure. When that agony returned, when the tragedy of that day struck it left you shattering and broken, glass upon the ground begging to be picked up again. You weren’t like that anymore.

Strength was no longer an empty promise, it was something real and tangible. You could hold it in your hands, cradle it and nurture it with everything you had. It existed in the laughter of friends, in the feeling of holding a loved one’s hand,  deep breaths of ocean air and memories made in that place of tragedy that were so bright. For so long now ignorance had been your enemy, snatching away so much happiness and leaving you wanting. Losing V, the Outsider’s betrayal, this--if only you had known, if only things could change. If only. You were tired of those two words, the taste of them now foul and bitter like poison shoved down your throat. There it choked, spat out with more force than ever thought capable. No more ignorance, no more hiding from that deep, aching pain and regret--you knew now, and by the Void itself you would die before not knowing again. 

It felt like hours had passed before the hands finally stopped coming, a gasp escaping your lips like you had been held under the ocean’s weight the whole time. Finally, a breach. You crested over that familiar surface of water, falling upward until the familiar glow of the Void finally met your eyes. Obsidian hands managed to break your fall, eyes swimming with dizziness and tears while everything sank into the very core. Vergil, your love,  abandoning you, the order, the pregnancy, Nero--everything. This was the make or break moment, the time to sink or swim. You lay on the cold ground for some time, treading the waters of your own mind and trying not to drown while the Foresight screamed in unbearable pain. You would not break. You would not break. You would not break. 

You wanted to remember, wanted to remember everything. There were so many things that had to be said, apologies to be made, love to give. You wanted to weep at the feet of your son, to beg and plead for forgiveness and tell him how absolutely loved he was from the very start. To make up for lost time, to change everything without the fear of shattering apart. The past could not be fixed, mistakes were now written in stone. But you knew that didn’t have to mean the future had to be bleak. You remembered now--That deep feeling of love, meeting Vergil that first time and pouring everything into him. His betrayal had stung to your very core, had left your past self weeping along in a cold cell. But...that love wasn’t gone. It didn’t justify Vergil’s actions, but you knew now. No longer ignorant, having been so close and deeply in love with the human part of him he rarely showed. V, the broken man who wanted nothing more to be protected and loved. 

Now you knew both sides of the man you loved, and you didn’t want to lose that again.

Clarity seeped through the pain, weaving together the pieces left behind and keeping you solid. A wheeze escaped your lungs, sounds fading in and out as you struggled to rise from the ground. The Outsider’s voice, Vergil’s, the Void. Promises of punishing the son of Sparda, of leaving him still loving you while V was here to keep you happy and ignorant. Denial scraped along the already-battered walls of your head, gaze lifting just enough to see a blurry vision on the precipice of the endless sky. There the Outsider held Vergil up by his collar, framed by an endless glow without stars and no sun. Neither had noticed you, so lost in the Void’s howl and in the Outsider’s chiding promise. It made your teeth grind, head swimming with desperation and the unrivaled need to stop this, to stop everything. No more--no more pain, no more suffering, no more punishments. 

You dragged yourself, body trembling uncontrollably as the Foresight battled every inch of it. A fail safe, meant to protect you from memories that might bring about shattering. Right now it definitely wasn’t helping, but that didn’t mean you would stop. The hard ground of the debris scraped your legs as you went, but they were practically numbed by everything else. Whale oil rising like bile in your throat, eyes black and reflecting the Void’s glow like obsidian crystals. Your tears glistened, dew on their surface, falling steadily through the harsh, wheezing breaths. Clearer now, clearer every second. Vergil stared sightless ahead, eyes glazed and empty as he accepted the Outsider’s fate. His look of defeat shook you, made every cell scream out in denial and sorrow. Both of you were so young, so foolish, so desperate, so headstrong, so hurt--not anymore, not. Any. More.

“Vergil Sparda, this is your punishment for hurting my child.”

Enough. We’ve all had enough.

The Outsider jolted when you reached out, grasping the back of his jacket with shaking fists and pulling yourself upright. What a sight you must have been--body riddled in scratches from dragging yourself, pale and shaking while the wind whipped your hair into a senseless mess. The deity immediately gasped, dropping Vergil’s limp form in shock and leaving him sitting on the edge of the debris, jolted back into sense. For a brief moment, your eyes met. Agonized, horror-filled blue staring into the glistening black, reflecting so many emotions, apologies, and regrets. When he was like this, his expressions reminded you so much of V. You knew what he was seeing, feeling, remembering. Seeing what his choices wrought, the tragedy and despair left in the wake of an arrogant child’s selfishness and fear. And that’s what he looked like now--unabashed vulnerability, tears in his eyes threatening to drip down already-wet cheeks. That past was done, it was gone and left in the rubble of memories that longer mattered.

Here, now...that mattered.

“Y/N…!” The Outsider rasped in horror, griping both your shoulders as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket without letting go. It caused him to crouch to your level, expression filled with panic and shock as he continued on horrified, “You shouldn’t be here, you still...still--How did you manage to--”

You couldn’t explain, couldn’t give him the chance to send you back again. You choked on a shuddering breath, arms reaching up around his neck and pulling closer into the only embrace you had ever shared with the deity. The one who gave you life, saved you from the abyss and spent the past few years trying not to let you break--his methods were not the right ones to take, lingering in cruelty and the very pain he knew too. How could you expect a creature who knew nothing but the empty, mindless howl of the Void to know anything of comfort and affection? He had no one to teach him mercy, to remind him of what humanity was like. To let go, no more pain of betrayal, no more anger.

 He froze when you rested your face on his neck, body held against his as wind whipped around you both mercilessly. There was no warmth, not physically--but his chill was a comfort all its own,  a familiarity that kept you from shattering and calmed the Foresight into a low hum.

“N...no more…” Your voice was so tiny, a broken sob against his frozen skin as you squeezed tighter, “Please...please...No more.”

The Outsider swallowed hard, body still rigid as his hands very gently settled on your back. Like he was holding glass thinner than paper, on the verge of breaking. He grit his teeth, you could hear the grinding of his jaw from this close.

“You’re suffering,” He managed to rasp out, voice shaking with restrained emotion as one hand threaded through your hair, “My child, my only precious flower--you remember don’t you? You remember what he--”

I remember. I remember remember remember. And I never want to stop. 

“I don’t care…!” Your body shook harder, voice taking on the hard edge of resolve even while tears swam in your vision again. The memories hadn’t stopped, they refused to cease in their brutal assault. Vergil never coming to save you, the pain of being shot, giving birth alone and soaked to the bone. Blood on the sand, your son’s wail on the wind. His face, his tiny hands… You sucked in a shaking breath, heart aching as a broken whimper slipped from your lips, “Please...don’t take him from me...I can’t lose it again…”

I want to know him. I want to know Nero as my son. I want to know Vergil as my everything.

You didn’t want this pain to be a reminder anymore. You wanted to make new memories with your child, to make up for all the mistakes and everything he lost. To go on without knowing, to live in ignorance as his friend and listen to him speak of the sorrow that came with being abandoned...you would rather die. Guilt was not a stranger, and you knew it was possible to grow and heal from it again. Because you weren’t that broken soul in the Void anymore, having tasted what a happy life could truly be like at the very core of your being. A perfect word would have been Vergil coming to save you back then, stealing you away to a quiet place to give birth and raise your child together as better people, to move on. But this world was far from perfect, and that was okay. To learn, to move on and grow from what happened seemed too good to be true, but it was all you wanted, all you had. 

Vergil stared at you with absolute agony, those tears managing to trickle out against his will down sharp cheeks. You loved remembering him, those special first moments. Getting to hold his hand, a first kiss, that night...it had been everything, bringing familiarity to the time you had been with V. Of course the poet felt so right, so deeply familiar and necessary--your body remembered him, saw the black-haired human in every tender, vulnerable moment with Vergil. Getting to have them both was such a blessing, to learn that part of your soulmate so intimately and without restraint. He held so much back, drowned out by fear and pride that continued to choke his happiness. Things could change, they had to.

The Outsider sucked in a sharp breath at your words, hands shaking where they gripped the back of your blouse. You could teach him too, could help him remember what empathy felt like underneath the howling Void.

The cold has numbed you, but it doesn’t have to be that way. 

“I...I could return V to you…” The Outsider whispered, staring over your head into the empty abyss as the wind continued to howl for everything you had lost, “That man, he...he hurt you, broke--You. I almost lost my only child, the only gift this wretched place allowed me.”

In a way, the deity was a child too, not understanding his own emotion and lashing out in kind. All this nonsense had been born in how much he cared for you, so much that the idea of losing you scared him into cruelty. It wasn’t right, he hurt you and the people close to you in the process. It couldn’t continue like this anymore, not on the path of revenge and tragedy. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to push back the tears. Your pain wasn’t helping him see clearly, nor was it aiding you in any way. It had to end, this ceaseless cycle—The Outsider needed to understand that you could handle this, that you could grow and stand on your own feet while carrying the weight of these memories around on your shoulders. 

“I know what that feels like,” You whimpered, breaths attempting to slow but still hitching with each swallowed sob. That fear he felt, the panic...you felt that all and more, “Please, father...don’t make me lose my child again.”

You felt him suck in a shuddering breath, eyes a glassy black as they stared over your shoulder into the abyss. In all the time you knew the Outsider, he had never shown emotion like this. Muscles locked to the point of shaking lightly with strain, air pressed through his nostrils like he was afraid opening his mouth would release an unwilling scream of denial. Because you knew deep down, knew he could understand your desire to keep these memories. Seeing you lose Nero had to hurt him too, bringing on the unwilling fear of experiencing the same thing once you almost slipped away. He had tried the only way he knew how, and now…that fear was caging you in, born of desperation and panic that kept the entire ocean at bay in the hopes of saving you from drowning. But he could never stop it from trickling through, not for long.

You delicately ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the wind send the short locks tossing back and forth. He felt so...human, real and solid. You were willing to bet he wasn’t always the God of this place, that his vulnerability and immaturity had roots in something deeply human. He froze sharply at the contact, hands squeezing the fabric of your blouse so tightly you wondered if it had started tearing.

“If I could take you away from this place, I…” You whispered, eyes closing softly as your body battled exhaustion, “The Void has made you cold, father. I just...I cannot let these feelings go.”

You leaned back just enough to stare at the Outsider’s face, obsidian meeting obsidian and reading each other’s faces. His eyes were wide with unrestrained desperation and sorrow, echoing so many years spent in this miserable place without the sun. You placed both hands gingerly on his cheeks, thumbs stroking along his high cheekbones as if waiting for tears to be shed.

“Father,” You whispered, voice aching with so many things better left unsaid as you stared at him steady and imploring, “Ignorance won’t protect us anymore.”

You hear Vergil suck in a breath at that, air dragged through teeth clenched so hard they might crack. The Outsider’s reaction was no different, those obsidian eyes wide and face a blank mask of shock and regret that showed no signs of fading. You knew what he was thinking, knew that desperate horror of watching you come so close to shattering, to becoming one with that deep, endless abyss. He was not used to fear, he was not used to being afraid. And that was something you could understand, something you wished so terribly to ease in any way you could. But this pain was so necessary, the deepest ache in your chest that gripped with icy fingers and refused to let go--shattering or not, painful or not...the memories were yours, and you wanted to keep them. You owed this to yourself, to Vergil, and especially to Nero. There were so many things you wanted to say to your son, and those things needed to happen above all else. 

There was a pause of silence between you all while the Outsider froze in place, seeming lost in thought as his endless gaze seemed to bore into your own. The only thing that broke the tense air was the howling winds from all around, even the moaning chorus of suffering voices seeming to quiet as they waited for the Outsider’s choice. If he decided against you, there would be a fight that could not be won, a fight that would more than likely end with you shattering from the stress already on your body. That was a risk the Outsider couldn’t afford to take, even with all the powers he held over you. The deep burn of foresight, icy veins of the Void’s magic as it traveled through your body--every breath was given to you by this ancient being, every bit of life you now carried each and every day. Without him, you would have never met Vergil, and for that you would always be grateful. 

The Outsider did not move for a very long time, only leaning back after his black eyes finally blinked at you. His hands slowly lowered from your form, falling back limply to his sides as he looked away, something akin to regret flashing across his face.  Exhaustion and acceptance followed like close companions, his eyes so very tired as the man rose to his feet, leaving you kneeling on the floor before him with a pleading expression on your face. For a moment, he could only stare down at you with more sorrow than one creature should carry, the chilled winds of the Void making his hair blow wildly in several directions. He looked more ancient than ever, the years spent in this wretched place more than showing on a face that was far too young to look so lost. The Outsider stared at you as if prepared to lose you forever, and that was the moment you realized he had finally made his choice.

“...I only wanted to keep you safe,” He spoke so softly, tone feather-light and echoing through the space as if he had screamed it out to the chorus of the Void. He rested one shaking hand upon your hair, eyes closing as his voice became ragged and somehow even softer, “I did not wish...to see you end.”

You nodded once, fresh tears dripping from your black eyes and onto the debris underneath you. The pain of his betrayal, every place you had traveled to, the lost memories and empty dreams...He didn’t know what else to do to keep you from shattering, fueled by desperation and that cruelty he knew so well. You didn’t want to hold onto it any more, these deep feelings of anger and regret that threatened so strongly to overtake you. They were nothing more than a burden now, and inexcusable weight that clung to your shoulders with sharp, unyielding claws. They had been your companions for far too long, and now...now they needed to leave.

You gripped the Outsider’s wrist tenderly with both hands, turning his palm over so you could press a kiss to it. He sucked in a sharp breath at the action, listening quietly as you replied in that hoarse, ragged tone, “I know...and I will be safe...I will,” Your black eyes raised, the color finally slipping back into your normal tone, the whites returning and glistening with tears, “Let me remember the people I love.”

You could see the lingering hesitation even as the Outsider pulled his hand away, eyes downcast and body stepping back toward the precipice. His gaze lingered for a moment on the form of Vergil, seeing the way he looked at you in absolute agony, the tears slipping down the sharp line of his jaw and the shattered expression in his eyes. There was remaining resentment there in those obsidian orbs, but he clenched his jaw and said nothing to the Son of Sparda. If you had to guess, the Deity knew that the only words that could get through the half-breed’s thick skull would have to be yours, and he wasn’t about to interfere with that again. So he paused only to look back at you again, face slipping back into his usual, neutral expression before you watched him disappear into a cloud of obsidian crystal shards without another word. You could understand that he needed time again, needed to process everything before addressing it again. 

He didn’t take away the gifts he had given you, at the very least. But the burn of Foresight was now gone, leaving only the familiar chill of the Void as it seeped through your limbs. For a minute you could only wheeze, trying to get the chaotic storm of emotions in check and feeling Vergil’s gaze linger on you with its familiar intensity. There were so many things between you now since the trials, since you attacked him in the Qliphoth. Those memories from Fortuna, of your first love and traveling together around the city--they mingled with every terrible, unspeakable event that took place after, all the terror and suffering that threatened to cloud out all the wonderful things. At the forefront was the guilt, the aching regret about what happened to Nero, of leaving him on the orphanage steps. It tore you up inside like razor blades, so very painful and absolutely unyielding. 

You slowly rose to your feet, turning towards the Son of Sparda with small steps and watching as his gaze lowered toward the ground. He didn’t dare look up at you as you approached, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and hands shaking at his side. Vergil had never looked this way to you before, so lost and filled with absolute emotion. It reminded you of how V had acted in the Qliphoth tree, the desperate pleas and the guilty torment of knowing that he would have to leave you at the end of his mission. God, you were so grateful for getting a chance to know that side of him, to love his human half in its entirety before it eventually returned. Those moments were so precious, to witness the vulnerable things he tucked away behind all that anger and pride...All Vergil had wanted was someone to save him, to be loved and cherished like any other person wanted too. And you had more than enough love to give, leaving no room for anger or grudges left behind from past mistakes.

When he spoke, his voice came out low and hoarse, its tone and cadence barely managing to whisper over the Void’s howl, “Why...Why did you choose to remember? He...He could have made you happy, could have given you back the man who knew how to cherish you. But you...you…”

You ignored the question, sliding both hands through his slicked back, white hair and lingering there for a few moments while he breathed faster. Tension was there in his trembling shoulders, in the way those icy blue eyes stared down at the ground and refused to look away. You could feel it now, those walls he kept up for so long bending under the weight of regret, of truth and long desired affections. What point was there in fighting things now? At the end of the day he could no longer hide what he wanted anymore, could no longer hide behind the shield of indifference or spite. All that could possibly remain now was guilt and regret, of self loathing that had seeded itself deep inside since the moment his mother had died. Vergil had so many reasons to hate himself, for things that weren’t even his fault, and for things that didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was leaving those mistakes behind, remembering the good things and striving to do better.

He had that ability inside of him, you knew he did. The ability to change, to atone for his sins. 

“Why?” Vergil continued to ask, breathing growing more and more ragged as you lowered yourself in front of his hunched form, both hands cupping his chilled cheeks and forcing his tormented gaze to rise up to meet you. There was agony in its depths, denial and confusion that made your heart ache so terribly, “All I’ve ever done is hurt you…! I...hurt everyone, took from everyone--V could have given you everything you wanted, without the things that make me who I am.”

You rested your forehead against his, tears forming on your lashes like dew drops and dripping in crystalline droplets onto his thighs. You could feel it when his breath hitched again, sounding like he tried so hard not to cry.

“...We don’t have to hurt anymore,” You whispered, voice soft and just as ragged as his own. Both hands rested on his chest, smoothing over the lines of his vest and feeling his heart race through the fabric, “That man who made me so happy is a part of you, Vergil...It was that same part of you that brought me so much happiness in Fortuna, that you buried under the fear of vulnerability. You made mistakes, we both did...All I want now is to move on from them, to be happy with you, with Nero--we owe that to him after all he’s endured.”

You felt his jaw clench at the mention of Nero, knowing exactly what went through his head. Your child, shivering in the cold and wailing for parents who were both gone, a little boy growing up thinking that he had no family, that they  abandoned him without a second thought--then as an adult, having his arm ripped off by the man he learns to be his father, left bleeding on the garage floor in pain. Years and years of not knowing, of aching to learn who his family was, then one strolls in and literally takes a whole limb. The agony that must have caused, and now...now there was still more to learn, the truth hovering so close and the boy didn’t even know it. All those things had been mistakes, yes, but it was Vergil who had to own up to them, who had to learn and try to do better. And that had to be the hardest part, to learn from one’s mistakes and not sink into the pit of self-loathing to cope. 

You let out a slow breath, trying to gather your words through the storm of guilt and emotions that still carried from the regained memories. Each breath felt like ice, words coming out hoarse yet firm as you told the son of Sparda, “You...You have to let those things go, Vergil, you have to talk to your son...Please...please. Please don’t leave us again, learn from what has happened and do better.”

We both can do better. For all of us.

You heard him swallow audibly, hands clenched into fists at his side as Vergil fought every ounce of instinct he had built up over the years. To hide his emotions away, to swallow them down and feel nothing but resentment and anger like it would somehow protect him. Self loathing was at its core, the final wall of his defenses once everything was gone. At the end of the day you knew that Vergil needed to learn how to be happy, to live with the things he had done and make reparations for them as best he could. Protecting others, doing things for the sake of good and not greed...those parts of him were real and tangible, you had held them in your arms once, kissed them with tender lips. They had been true and filled with so much emotion, and they wouldn’t just go away at a swipe of the Yamato.

Vergil finally looked up to meet your gaze, the faintest hint of tears clinging to his grey lashes as you swiped them away with your thumb. It was still so odd to see so much emotion on his face, torment obvious and out in the open.

“...How can you still love me after all of that?” He whispered incredulously at the look you wore, one of deep adoring and exhaustion as you continued to cup his cheeks, “I...I don’t understand. I don’t deserve it.”

His words made your heart ache terribly, thudding away in your chest like a caged bird trying to be free. Vergil’s was pounding too, closer to hard fists on steel walls of a person trying so desperately to escape a deep agony.  

You stared into his eyes as steadily as you could, voice coming out soft and reassuring as you explained, “Because love isn’t about deserving it or not, it’s about feeling emotion... and acknowledging it without running away,” You reached down, threading your fingers with the trembling digits of his own and giving a light squeeze, “Vergil Sparda is meant to be mine, and I don’t want anything else but that...I want to be with the one I was made for, and...that person is you.”

You broke me, and I broke you...I think we’re done breaking each other, aren’t we?

All that was left was to pick up the pieces.

You were shocked when Vergil’s arms pulled you against him hard, wrapped around your waist and squeezing as he buried his face against your shoulder. You could feel his ever breath, hear it rattle and shake with rasping sobs that had ached so desperately to be free this whole time. God, it felt good to finally be held by him again, every precious memory returned and emotions so very raw. You could feel them now, everything he had bottled up inside pouring out like water from a shattered glass. How it must have felt to finally acknowledge so many years of repressed emotion, to embrace someone without the heavy shackles of pride or hesitation. You embraced him back with accepting arms, eyes squeezing shut at the relief that came with being with the one you loved again. Whole and complete, just as tender as when he was V yet somehow more bittersweet. 

This was everything you had craved without even knowing it. 

You pressed kiss after kiss to his neck and shoulder, breaths slowing and the hollow ache in your heart finally fading at his touch. He was so strong, body holding fast against yours and the lines of it so very familiar. The storm inside was familiar too, you an anchor for the son of Sparda when he needed it most. 

“...I…” Vergil whispered after some time, voice low and hesitant as he swallowed back some of his emotion. You could feel his arms squeeze tighter, face pressed to your neck as he admitted, “I...I love you...Even back then, when I left, you...I thought about you the entire time I was on the ferry, yet I just...just…”

Forgot. That was the Outsider’s doing, wiping Vergil’s memory so that when you returned he could be punished without any complications. You let out a soft breath, leaning back to touch your forehead to his once again just as the portal started forming underneath you--crystalline hands curled upwards, gently wrapping around your forms as the Void’s hollow wailing grew louder and louder. As if saying goodbye, crying out in mourning for something that it felt like it was losing. Even if he wasn’t visible, you could feel the Outsider watching you both, his trepidation like a tangible force that filled the empty skies of the Void like thick, hovering storm clouds. He was afraid for you, he was lonely and alone. But you would not be leaving for good--even with the dark memories it carried, the empty blackness was a part of you, and so was the black-eyed God who resided there. You would return again someday, after having a chance to heal.

“I know,” You whispered to Vergil, feeling the Void’s howl ringing sharply in your ears as it started to fall away, “It’s over now, that pain is over. Let’s go home, and see our son.”

~~~

~Four Months Later~

You could tell it was still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains of your bedroom in orange, pink colored hues. Warm--everything felt warm now, safe and comforting as you had sought for so long. More than anything, things felt correct, like every missing piece of your puzzle had finally fallen into place. Absolute in its entirety, perfected in its security. The way light air billowed through the windows, making curtains drift in a slow dance of dark blue fabric in the direction of your bed--Vergil’s arm wrapped around your form, his steady heartbeat under your ear and the warmth he shared with your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, a rightness that seemed to fill up your form like honeyed milk and bringing with it a sleepy peacefulness that made it incredibly difficult to rise for the day. Then again, you were a better morning person than the son of Sparda, who would no doubt awaken surly and annoyed as he usually did.

So many things had happened in the past few months since you returned from the Void, so many things and so many emotions to work through. You had fallen onto the sand with Vergil by your side, Nero and the others rushing out to meet you in relief and worry at the way you both looked--even more so when you collapsed upon the white haired boy and sobbed, refusing to let go as apology after apology had burst from your lips. Eventually Vergil was able to coax you into letting go, and then...well, you had to tell Nero everything. Every regained memory, every terrible tragedy and all the things you so desperately wanted to say sorry for. He had to know how much he was loved, that you so terribly wanted to stay with him but circumstances never allowed. He listened to it all in wide eyed shock, but you had the feeling that he could sense for a long time that there was something that tied you both together, something neither of you could understand until now.

You were telling the truth, and he couldn’t very well deny that. His best friend had been his mother all along, and that was a lot to take in. He was struggling with the knowledge, but not as much as the fact that he wasn’t abandoned for being a half demon, that his mother went through so much terrible tragedy and died on the steps of Fortuna’s orphanage. All those years of searching and filling himself with questions and resentment, all of it for nothing. His mother had come back eventually, and that whole time he thought himself the older one, like he was meant to protect her like a little sister. Things had become such a mess, weaved together in chaotic knots that took a solid hour to weave with Kyrie there to support Nero while he absorbed it all. You were shocked to see that this info was somehow a relief to him, and even more so when he embraced you like a mother as if it was somehow the easiest thing in the world...like he had wanted nothing more. 

Mind you, Nico was in absolute shock about all of this--she kept staring in slack jawed awed at you and Vergil, unable to wrap her head around any of it. You, one of her closest friends, had given birth to a punk like Nero? How the hell was such a thing supposed to make sense?

Naturally, the very next thing Nero did was punch Vergil square in the jaw.

Both you and Dante had to hold the hot-tempered devil hunter back as he shouted curses at his father, railing into him for everything he had done to you and all the pain he caused. All his childhood questioning, all the pain--if Vergil hadn’t been such a dick so much suffering could have been avoided. You protested in between that things were fine, that it was in the past, but the son of Sparda didn’t say a word, didn’t fight back for once. Her merely sat on the ground where he had landed after the blow, rubbing his jaw with one hand and staring blankly at the ground. He was trying so hard, you could tell--sorrow lingered in the depths of his icy blue eyes, mingling with self-loathing as Nero reiterated back all the terrible things he had done and what a terrible person it made him. You wanted to stop him, but...Nero deserved to speak his mind, and Vergil had reparations to make.

After some firm discussions on the matter, you and Vergil agreed that it would be best to stay at Devil May Cry while things settled down, to find an outlet for the son of Sparda that would actually let him help people. Kyrie and Nico were both disappointed that you’d be moving, as were the children, but...right now was a sensitive time for Vergil, one where you were too nervous to let him be around things that would only make him feel worse. Until his head was sorted out, Fortuna was too much of a terrible memory for you both to literally live in the location of, and staying at Devil May Cry would be for the best until that was sorted out.

Regardless, the next few months passed somewhat peacefully. You and Vergil joined Devil May Cry, and set about fixing Redgrave City and rescuing any survivors still trapped inside. There were buildings to be fixed, roads that needed repairing, and broken families that needed to come back together. You knew this would be hard on Vergil too, but it was absolutely necessary that he try to make up for all the terrible things he had done. Every life taken in his pursuit of power would weigh on him for a while, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon, but...this did help. It was a while before the son of Sparda wasn’t listless anymore, that you could get more emotion from him that wasn’t guilt or regret. Mind you, Dante being irritating did help with that, but even he was worried the first few months when he would taunt Vergil and get nothing but sadness from his brother.

The surly man had been through too much trauma, seen too much. Having you by his side was his only anchor for a long time.

Which led back to present day, you wrapping a leg around his waist and letting out a heavy sigh of impatience when Vergil still slept soundly. You would think that someone like him, all pride and silly rules, would be much better about getting up in the morning. Instead, he was somehow worse than Dante, all annoyed grunts and exhausted stares as he dragged himself downstairs for a cup of coffee or tea. At least Dante would come down sleepy but cheerful, usually around noon or one o'clock in search of day old pizza. You knew trying to wake the son of Sparda up would not be an easy task, but you knew that there would be missions today that needed preparations--Nero and Nico would be joining you, after all, and there was nothing more exciting than the idea of spending time with your son.

You hummed softly, slowly rising from where you lay against his side and sitting up on Vergil’s lap with mischief in your gaze. It was surprising--he had taken months to get used to sleeping next to you without jolting awake in defensive positions, and even longer to get used to you touching him. So the fact that you could now settle your entire weight on his waist and place your hands on his chest was a pleasant show of how far he had come. Christ, he was such a beautiful man--those grey lashes were resting against his cheeks, face peaceful and calm in rest with messy hair and kissable lips. You could have stared at the hard line of his jaw for hours, wanting nothing more than to nibble it with your teeth and smooch for hours on end. Such a hard urge to resist, especially considering that he definitely should have been awake right now to start getting ready.

He stirred a little bit when you leaned forward, kissing a slow line from his shoulders and neck to that jaw you had been admiring so much. He was so very warm, and hard by the feeling of him pressing against your ass. It would be fairly hard to stay asleep with you rubbing on him like that, worshiping his chest with your mouth and hands while he stirred just a little bit more. There was no denying that low, rumbling hum of sound that came from his chest, peaceful expression shifting into something far grumpier as he stretched out under your hips. Reminiscent of a mighty panther waking with a low growl, eyes still not opening even as you leaned your face against his neck and gently bit where a vein pulsed steadily under the skin. 

You weren’t surprised by the low rumble of his voice under your ear, sounding incredibly tired and slightly grumpy as he groused, “I thought you agreed only to awaken me early for emergencies, brat.”

There had been some sort of agreement--but you were a little too distracted to remember it, tongue sliding up his warmed skin with a soft purr of, “But it is an emergency, my heart...I’ll simply perish without your help.”

You were being a bit cheeky this morning, feeling a surge of mischief and glee when his hips couldn’t help but shift slightly underneath yours. That pressure had to be a bit constricting on his cock right about now, but you weren’t getting much of a reaction out of him yet--he never did fall for your dramatic claims.

“Oh?” Vergil murmured, eyes still not opening as you bit down on his left earlobe, heartbeat quickening in your chest as he continued on, “Will you now? You certainly have a lot of energy for someone close to perishing.”

That last word turned into a bit of a grunt when you purposely rubbed yourself against his cock, feeling its hard length shift and squeeze between your bodies. To be honest, this was probably doing you in more than him, that firm pressure on your clit making you moan breathily and lean against his form like a cat in heat. Your panties did nothing to sully the friction, arousal making its home in your abdomen and pooling warmth down into your core like melting honey. Vergil was certainly able to catch your mood, letting out an amused rumble of sound when you breathed heavily against his neck, rutting against his cock again with absolutely no shame. Honestly, a past version of you might have been embarrassed to act like this, especially with someone as prideful as the Son of Sparda. But you well enough by this point that he wasn’t phased by your unabashed desire--rather he enjoyed when you gave him this kind of attention, like it stroked his ego.

It definitely did. 

“Vergil…” You whined, wrapping both arms around his neck and pressing your entire body against his when he purposely tilted his head to the side as if feigning sleep, “Don’t be mean--I let you sleep longer today that I did yesterday.”

He chuckled lightly at that, finally cracking one eye open to stare at you in his typical, superior sort of way. Honestly, you were a bit dazed for a moment at how handsome he was, white hair a tousled mess on his pillow and lips curving into a bemused little smirk at the desperate expression on your face. Vergil had a special way of looking absolutely, arrogantly smug, especially when he knew how badly you wanted it. But he was also weak to your pleading, and even more so with you all over him and looking so very tempting in just a tank top and some panties--he’d be a foolish man to refuse you in even the most dire situations, although he had to get his fun in somewhere.

The half-demon clicked his tongue, head tilting back and eyes closing again as he replied to you in a purposely sleepy tone, “Maybe you should ask me nicely, doll, and I’ll think about indulging you.”

You bit your lip, knowing full well he wasn’t about to walk around aroused for the better part of the morning, especially not with work to do and especially not while meeting with your son. But it would be silly of you to call him on that bluff, especially since he was prideful enough to prove you wrong just for the hell of it. And quite frankly, you’d lose out far more than him with such a foolish game.

A sigh left your lips, body falling limply against his in a show of defeat, “...Please?” You murmured softly, chin resting on his chest as you stared at him imploringly, “Please, Vergil?” 

His smirk widened at that, showing his pearly white teeth in accompaniment with his equally smug reply, “You could always try calling me ‘sir’ just to sweeten it a bit, brat.”

“Now you’re just pushing it.”

It warmed you thoroughly when your huffed reply made the half-breed laugh, the sound sleepy and smooth as he finally yielded and wrapped both arms around your form. It felt so good to be held by him, your body made to fit against the hard lines of his own. the sensation only grew deeper when he rolled over to press you into the bed, mouth catching your lips in a deep kiss and hands holding him up on either side of your head. Whatever grumpiness that plagued him upon waking faded away with your tongue stroking over his, breaths mingly and hips pressed against each other in a slow grind. You’d be hard pressed to miss his desire now, especially with him rutting it against your wet heat in those slow, deep presses that made your breath catch in desperation. Christ, you were needy--and he absolutely adored that about you, wanted to indulge every chance he got, even if it meant teasing you a bit first.

You were panting when his mouth slipped to your jaw, a growl in his throat while he kissed a line down to your chest and lingered there for a moment. You practically trembled when one hand tugged up your tank top, those kissable lips latching onto one nipple and making your hips rise at the slow, purposeful suction he gave. Christ, his tongue...he was merciless this morning, absolutely ruthless. The half breed swirled the wet appendage over the sensitive bud in his mouth, making you whimper and fist his hair with both hands. So sensitive in the morning, becoming a writhing mess under his ministrations in a matter of seconds. He let out a satisfied hum, blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as he released your breast with a hollow pop, moving onto the next.

You were already drenched by that point, anymore foreplay absolutely not needed, but that wasn’t stopping Vergil. He would willingly draw this out hours if you had it, bringing you to the edge of orgasm over and over again without satisfaction, until you were sobbing with need. And then he would be the opposite other days, literally making you come over and over until you were begging to stop, until the overstimulation was too much. Unfortunately, today offered very little time with all the plans in mind, so he could only get his fun in short intervals. Honestly, you could have taken two of him with how aroused just the morning wanting had made you, and that was plainly obvious when the half-breed tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them to somewhere in your room.

You practically sobbed with need as he plunged his fingers into your sheath, the slide easy and wet as he tested your resistance, finding absolutely none. Your toes curled into the bed sheets, head tilted back as he kissed along your neck and jaw with those fingers working below. Curling inside, searching for any sweet points and making slick, lewd sounds with every thrust. You could only squirm, at his mercy and trembling with a building orgasm in your lower half. God, why were you always so sensitive? He had just barely started and you felt already inches away from coming on his fingers, hips rising to meet him as a desperate moan left your parted lips. No wonder he could overstimulate you so god damn easily--without edging you would just orgasm easily without much work at all.

“Ahhh...ahhh...g-god, please--” You whimpered against his neck, hips rolling against his hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, “Vergil...Vergil I’m so--”

“Already?” The son of Sparda murmured, stilling his fingers and chuckling at that half-choked sound of desperation you made in response, “I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, doll.”

You weren’t really in the mood to be prideful today, his teasing barely registering with you as the feeling of that orgasm started to dull. It was so very disappointing when his digits left your throbbing insides, a trail of slick following them as proof of your arousal. That might have been a bit embarrassing if you had any shame left, but that wasn’t really the case after everything you had been through with this man. The son of Sparda seemed pleased, icy blue eyes lingering on his fingers before drawing them into his mouth, tasting your essence as he leaned back to gaze over your form with a hint of adoration in their depths. The way Vergil looked at you, lingering on each scar and left over wound from battles past...it made you heart only ache more, body desperate for his affections and warming further as you stared back with a pleading expression of your own.

 Luckily enough for you, Vergil seemed to be far more merciful today, placing both hands on your thighs and pushing them back and apart. You bit your lip, knees up to your chest and held there right where your legs bent with his strong hands. So exposed, spread nicely for him and ready to be taken. The half-breed gave you a look that told you not to move your limbs in the slightest, letting go so he could pull down the thin, cotton dress pants hiding his length from your eyes. You could have moaned when the hard appendage slipped free, precum already beading on the tip smeared away by his thumb and looking so damn perfect for you and you alone. God, he was beautiful everywhere, cock lengthy enough to press deep inside and thick enough to spread you without hurting too much. And with how aroused you were, it would be absolutely painless, your body practically aching to suck him inside and feel each stroke along your inner walls. 

Vergil didn’t seem keen on waiting any longer either, pressing the tip against your folds and sucking in a breath as he stroked over your clit for a few seconds, just savoring the wet warmth. You were trembling, toes curling with anticipation and heart pounding quickly in your chest when he finally pressed it against your throbbing entrance, Vergil gritting his teeth at the way your body molded around his length. A perfect fit, his cock slipping easily inside and buried deep in a matter of seconds. Your eyes rolled back a bit in your skull at the feeling of his tip brushing your cervix, filling you up entirely and leaving not a single inch that wasn’t being touch by him. You had no doubt that he could feel your every breath, every shift of muscle as you fought the urge to rut against him as the desperation grew higher.

“G-god, please…” You whimpered, shuddering when he leaned over your form and pressed both hands to your legs again to press them back. The movement shifted his cock inside, burying it just a bit deeper and making you gulp in a quick breath of air, “F-fuck...fuck…”

“So crass, my doll,” Vergil hissed, voice breathless as he leaned down to nip at your neck again, “You’re absolutely drenched...you must have really worked yourself up this morning.”

That was certainly an understatement. When he slid his cock out of your throbbing sheath it was a wet slide, plunging back in with a wet sound that seemed overly loud in the quiet of your bedroom. A choked whimper left your lips at the pace he began to set, wasting no time in being gentle with you with how obviously you wanted it. Your hands blindly reached for him in the mess of sensations scattering your thoughts, one wrapped around his neck and the other burying itself in his hair as your lips pressed hard together in the next instant. Vergil always kissed you the same way when you made love, like he was starving and you were the first meal he was allowed in so many years. You could only hang on as his cock plunged in and out below, roughly pressing your hips into the bed as each breath mingled desperately between your molding lips and tongues. Desperate, mindless, both seeking pleasure from each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was. Vergil felt like home, felt correct in the best way possible. Body to body, legs wrapping around his waist now as he fucked you into the mattress--one hand cupped your warming cheeks, the other bracing himself upwards so he didn’t crush you with his weight. Each soft sound of pleasure that came from his lips was like music, panting gasps or subdued moans that strained with each thrust into your sheath. You loved looking at his face, seeing him come undone with pleasure and lose all composure as he shared his body with you, became vulnerable with you.

You were so close now, his hips grinding against your clit with each thrust. It was quite the sensation, feeling his  cock bumping your cervix every time he buried himself deep inside and feeling so very filled to the brim. The growing orgasm was coming much faster than you thought it would, your body still just as sensitive and absolutely trembling as it pushed for that pleasure like your life depended on it. Christ, how would you be able to work after this? He was so easily making a mess out of you, and something about that was absolutely tantalizing. Not that he was any better--you could already tell he was getting close too, the son of Sparda burying his face against your neck and body tense as he ground himself inside of you with a desperation that was starting to match your own.

“Y/N...fuck…” He hissed, voice low and breathless as he pressed his mouth to your skin, words slightly muffled as he moaned, “You feel so good, I can’t--fuck--”

You couldn’t even form a reply other than a wordless moan of your own, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm started to crest. It throbbed through your insides, hips jolting upwards as a half sobbed cry of release left your lips and your body clenched around him like a vise. The half-breed grit his teeth, the tightening around his cock sending him to his own peak shortly after. His hips stuttered in their thrusts, a hoarse groan muffled against your skin as he buried himself deep to fill you up with his load. You could have melted at the feeling of him spilling inside, body going limp with satisfaction and toes curling into the mattress as you rode out the storm of pleasant sensations. Warm, thick, and so very deep--making love to him felt so perfect, and getting to have him again and again was more than you ever thought you’d be allowed. Bad memories, pain, suffering...they couldn’t have been further from you both at that moment, quietly coming down from your orgasms in the safety of your bedroom.

You don’t know how much time passed with you there, Vergil’s body pressed to your own but careful not to crush you with his weight. The throb of pleasure was quieting now into a warm glow, limbs limp and body deliciously spent as you let out a soft, contented sigh. An ideal way to spend your day involved staying like this with him for hours, maybe longer, and getting to enjoy each other as much as you wanted. That wasn’t likely today, but it still felt nice to lie there for a few moments, sharing warmth and listening to both heartbeats slow to something far more tame. Your fingers idly traced patterns on his relaxing back muscles, your other hand in his hair and gently stroking the slightly damp locks out of his face. You could feel him melt under your touch, breathing evening out considerably and eyes closing as he savored the comfort of your affections for just a bit longer.

He never wanted to stop feeling them. And neither did you.

You expected him to pull back as he always did, to kiss you on the lips and remark upon how you should probably start getting ready. Instead, you were surprised when he let out a soft breath, tone low and uncharacteristically gentle as he wrapped both arms around your spent form.

“I love you,” He murmured, stroking one hand up into your hair and pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, “Thank you...for loving me, for...choosing me.”

Your breath caught at his words, that familiar pang of emotions squeezing your heart as you recognized the vulnerability and hesitation in his tone. Even after four months, you could feel how each past mistake weighed upon the son of Sparda, making him feel undeserving of you, undeserving of anything. No doubt Nero’s constant reminders weren’t helping with that, nor did the Outsider’s trials all that time ago. You wished that there was more that could be done to ease his pain, but knew that the only way that he could change for the better was to embrace the mistakes and do better in the future. He was, after all, half human.

So you wrapped both arms around his neck, heart beating faster in your chest as you pressed your face to his silvery-white hair and smiled softly, voice absolutely truthful in your reply to the son of Sparda.

“I love you too--and I will always choose you.”

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[nanonkorapat]

you

An earnpear short fic written for 2getherweek! Day 1, festival, in combination with day 5, date. Basically, Earn and Pear being cute and going to a festival together. 

AO3 | Ko-Fi | Words: 1.5k 

Pear has always loved festivals. The colours and the lights dancing around you, the smell of the food stalls in the air, the music and the games. She liked being among the people, feeling them rushing and laughing all around her. Everyone was always happy in places like that. Pear liked seeing people being happy. 

One day, P’Dim arrived at the music club late, holding what looked like a number of leaflets. Pear was practising with Sarawat and he was growing more and more impatient. She just didn’t seem to be able to get this song right. 

“Okay, listen up!” P’Dim said. Everyone stopped whatever it was they were doing and turned to look at him. “There is a new festival we will be participating in. It’s going to be a charity thing for an environmental organization and it’s gonna last two days, Saturday and Sunday. It’s in two weeks. We will perform some songs on the second night and then we are thinking of getting a band to close the weekend. If for some reason you won’t be able to participate, please tell me as soon as possible. Any questions?”

He looked around the room for a bit, but no one seemed willing to ask anything. Pear’s eyes had lit up the moment she heard there would be a festival. She could already see it. Performing in front of people always made her anxious but still! A festival!

“Great!” P’Dim continued. “Now who’s gonna help give out these leaflets?”

“Pear will,” Sarawat replied without missing a beat. 

She was ready to protest when Earn also spoke. “I can help, too,” she said.

Pear closed her mouth. She didn’t mind doing this if she was going to be with Earn. She didn’t mind it at all.

They were eating lunch. The festival was only two days away and Pear still hadn’t found someone to go with on the first day of the festival. She really really wanted to go. But not alone. Doing things alone wasn’t as fun as doing them with friends. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Green suddenly asked. 

They had all noticed how she wasn’t being her usual cheerful self lately. She had even lost her appetite and was now looking at her soup with the saddest look ever. Pear had never been really good at hiding things. 

“It’s just that I really want to go to the festival on Saturday, but everyone is busy and I have no one to go with,” she replied and sighed. 

“No one?” Sarawat asked and seemed to think about it for a second. 

“Isn’t Earn free on Saturday night?” Tine asked in a very offhand manner. He was too focused on his soup.

“Yes,” Sarawat replied, slowly, dragging the e out as if  he just realized something. “Earn is free!” he exclaimed. 

Earn, of course, was sitting right next to him, but she wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation. She was really struggling with a song lately. But she stopped scribbling on her notebook when she heard her name and got one earbud out. 

“What? Did you say something about me?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Sarawat replied, looking at her. “Pear has no one to go with on the festival on Saturday night.”

Earn kept looking at him as if she couldn’t quite understand the meaning of his words. But Sarawat just kept staring at her intensively. If Pear didn’t know better, she’d think she was missing something here. 

“Aren’t you free on Saturday night?” he asked again. 

Earn still seemed slightly confused. But then, it was like something changed on her face. Pear could almost pinpoint the moment that happened. Her eyes softened and a small smirk appeared on her face, as if she just now finally understood what was happening.

“I am,” she replied, looking at Sarawat and the boy smiled back.

“You are?” Pear asked, slightly confused.

“I am,” Earn replied again, turning to look at Pear this time. 

The girl was so happy that she quickly got up and circled the table. Pear wrapped her arms around Earn, showering her in thank-yous and if her heart was beating a little bit faster, she didn’t really pay attention to that. 

Pear was running late. She had to finish an assignment before she started getting ready and then she didn’t really know what to wear and then the bus was late. She found Earn sitting on a wooden bench near the food stalls.

“Oh, look who’s here,” Earn said as soon as she spotted Pear, but there was no real heat in her voice. 

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said and sat down next to Earn. “Do you want ice cream? I can buy you ice cream as an apology.” 

Pear knew Earn would never say no to ice cream.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Besides, I already bought ice cream.”

Pear hadn’t noticed the two cups of ice cream next to the girl. Earn reached for them and gave one to Pear. One strawberry scoop. Her favourite. 

“Aw, thank you so much!” Pear said and hugged Earn again. She just really liked doing that. 

“So, what do you wanna do here?” Earn asked after a while. 

“I was thinking maybe we could play some games and walk around,” Pear replied. 

“Ohh, I see,” Earn said with a smirk, leaning towards the other girl. “You want me to win a stuffed animal for you.”

Pear laughed and went back to eating her ice cream. She really hoped Earn hadn’t seen her blush. 

And that’s what they did. They visited almost all the game stalls and Earn absolutely wrecked her. Pear’s aim really was incredibly bad. But she still won two stuffed animals; a little cute turtle and a whale. Actually, Earn won them and gifted them to Pear. They also watch a couple of short films made by the cinematography club. They had set up a projector and a white sheet and everyone just sat on the grass and watched. It was really nice. Pear didn’t even know their university had a film club. After that they went to eat something and took a couple of photos to send to their music club group chat to make the others jealous.

“That was really fun,” Pear said as they were walking towards the exit. 

“Yeah, it was,” Earn agreed. 

“It’s been a while since we hang out like that,” Pear continued but immediately regretted saying that. It somehow came up slightly accusing. Earn stopped walking.

Pear quickly turned around to face the other girl and almost bumped into her. “Not that I meant it’s your fault in any way,” she said rapidly.

“Yeah I know,” Earn said, but there was a certain kind of sadness in her voice. “So, yeah,” she continued, “I need to go that way.” She pointed on the opposite direction of where Pear was going. “I should probably hurry before I lose the last bus.”

Earn said that, but she didn’t move. 

“Yeah?” Pear said, because she could feel there was something unsaid hanging in the air between them and it was driving her insane. 

“I finished my song,” Earn started again. Her eyes were glued to the ground and her fingers were playing with the strap of her bag. “I’m gonna sing it tomorrow.”

Pear smiled. She knew this song had been troubling Earn for so long. “That’s so nice to hear!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait to hear it!”

Earn smiled and looked at the girl. “I- I wrote it for you,” she said. 

For a moment, Pear was very confused. No one had ever written her a song before and why would anyone do that anyway? But suddenly, something clicked inside her mind. 

The way she had always liked hanging out with Earn, being close to her, hugging her. The way they both knew each other’s favourite ice cream flavours, coffee orders, favourite songs and films and restaurants. The way her heart always sped up when Earn was close to her, teaching her how to play the guitar, helping her with her assignments. 

And then she remembered how Sarawat kept writing songs for Tine.

Pear wasn’t sure what it was that she was feeling exactly. It was something, but she needed to think about it more. She looked at Earn again, who was waiting for her to talk. Nervousness was creeping across her face. At that moment, Pear decided something and took one step closer to her. She decided, whatever it was she was feeling, it was good, and she should be careful not to ruin it. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t wait to hear it.” She leaned and gave Earn a kiss on the cheek. It was quick and it made her blush. But seeing Earn smile immediately made her feel better.  

“I really need to go now, though, I don’t want to walk home,” Earn said, relief filling her voice. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Pear said.

“See you tomorrow,” Earn said while walking away. 

That night, as she was lying in bed, Pear thought about the kiss she had given to Earn. She had no idea where she found the courage or the confidence to do it. 

She only knew that she wanted to do it again and again and again. 

Really hoped you liked it! ❤️