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undercoverpena · 4 months

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pickles, peppers and photos

javier peña x f!reader

summary: cleaning out the cupboards for the new year reveals more than just a cluttered kitchen.

wordcount: 2k warnings: brief and tiny mention of you struggling with new year, but pure fluff. reader has a hatred for pickles (sorry pickle lovers), no descriptions are used (banner shadows not representative. no use of y/n but javi calls you esposa and mi pimienta (hehehe). flirting. established relationship/married!javi.

an: this is my contribution to the @pickled-pena resolutions challenge! pls check out the pinned post on the pickled-pena page for more details.

When he enters the kitchen it’s a mess.

A grand explosion of things spread out over all the available surfaces.

He should have known when his outstretched hand found only cold sheets, when his eyes glanced at the clock and realised it was barely past sunrise.

Javi had considered playing ignorant, remaining in bed until you fetched him, but the sound of shattered glass, a shriek and an abundance of curses forced his legs from under the bedding.

By the time he'd dressed and come downstairs, whatever chaos had happened had been cleaned up, but the sight that still met him still made him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Every single item, from every single cupboard, had been laid out on the counter. Each item doing its best to hide the marble counter, with each kitchen cupboard flung open, revealing the carcass of the empty wooden cupboards.

Javi could argue whether it was necessary. Whether there was a point in emptying everything, to removing a handful of things before placing the rest back.

Could is the optimum word in the sentence, his hand wiping across his forehead, brushing past loose strands, as he tried to find something more optimistic to say than why?

Because he knows why.

And why is the only reason you’re on this side of the bedroom door: traditions.

Your way of getting rid of the clutter to usher in tidiness—provides a sense of renewal. Or, that's what you told others. You'd let him in on the real reason, your secret. How you struggle, how a new year feels big, overwhelming, difficult—but this helps. It keeps your mind occupied, focused, and feeling good.

Mostly, it keeps you busy—and is the only reason you’re dressed in clothes that don’t have food cartoons on them.

Not that he minds your array of comfy-and-cosy-only-for-home PJs.

Each set, some overly worn, some now mismatched, just gives him more reason to tease you that you are good enough to eat. To get close, whisper those words into your ear, either trace his fingers under your pants leg or splay his fingers up your spine, and remind you (with a roll of his hips) that he desires you whether you’re naked or dressed up, in his clothes or in colourful PJs.

You either really hate these PJs or you must really love me, Peña.

Most of the time, it's the latter. Depending on the pair, it could be both. His fingers slotting between yours as he moves you on the couch, watching your face shift into one of lust, that smile adorning your lips—the one he first fell in love with. Want me to take these off, baby, he'll reply, before he'd begin whispering (in plenty), how perfect you are, how pretty.

While you do right now look as pretty as ever, he's not sure he could say the moment was perfect.

"Do I ask?"

Peering your head out from around an open cupboard, the scent of fresh lemon and disinfectant brushes his nose. Your eyes slide over his face, before your lips twist into a smirk, head motioning to the freshly brewed pot, informing him you'd left him a cup out.

"Seems like all the mugs are out, mi pimienta."

"Funny," you snort, shaking your head.

Leaning on the counter he stares, admires. Eyes lingering on the way your jeans hug your ass, how you're hand cleaning the back of the cupboard has forced your top to rise. Swiping his thumb over his bottom lip, just continuing to watch, teeth nipping at the skin...

Because how did he get so lucky?

Him. Javier Peña. A man with a decorated and successful past, but has felt the most victorious when he's freed you out of your pickle PJs and laid you down in the sheets he helped pick out with you.

You don’t even like pickles, something he knows well.

A thing you remind him with a disgusted look and a high-pitched whisper whenever he orders burgers for the two of you.

Javi does know you like peppers, though.

His pimienta. A joke one night that stuck, a mishap, a bumble of words when you’d been trying to tell him those three words. Hands around his, candle flickering on the table:

‘Porque eres la sal de my pimienta.

If he hadn’t already known he loved you before then, he knew it at that moment. His heart burst, mirroring the way a smile slid over his face, and a laugh cracked through his chest. The sound filled the air as he watched you join him, heard it, the way your laughs merged together when you were happy.

While you never call him your salt, he has taken it upon himself to call you his pepper. Whispers it, speaks it, shouts it, grunts it when you’re nothing but fire and temptation.

"How long you been up?"

"A while," you reply, back still to him, eyes studying something in front of you. “You think you're going to eat these, Javi?”

Blinking, he stares at you as you spin to face him—spotting the two very different tins in your hand. Fruit, all canned.

He can’t even remember when you both had gotten them. Not ever recalling wanting them, never mind purchasing them with the groceries.

“Your Pops must have given them to us,” you add, adding a shrug, likely seeing the pinched expression, the evidence of his confusion. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You bend over, placing it in a box which is slowly filling.

But his eyes are only focused on your form. Over the slither of skin exposed at your back. Somehow, after all this time, the sight of you still makes him warm; the way you fit him, made things better, easier. Make him feel worthy of a slither of happiness and peace.

Plus, the way you look at him makes his mind less focused on the food he wishes to keep, and more on what he could devour if he made enough space for you on the counter.

Adjusting himself, and clearing his throat, he glances at the counter, fingers sliding over his lower jaw as he stares at the half-open boxes of pasta, the spices, and then—

Saying your name, you look at him, all wide-eyed, slowly rising to full height. “Why do we have a jar of pickles?”

Pulling a face, you shrug. “Must have been something we were given.”

“You hate pickles.”

“Very astute, Peña. Are you sure they’re not your pickles?

Tilting his head, he slides his jaw, offering it to you—the jar. Watching as your fingers twitch, not willing to take it. Your eyes don't move from him, not wanting to bow, to bend. Mostly likely, not even wishing to take the jar from him—even if the contents were safely behind thick glass and swimming in their own green-tinged juice.

“You need to get better at saying no, mi pimienta.”

“Oh, do I? Well, no las compré, which means we were gifted them. Which then means—actually, wait. You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time, ay?” Your hands move to your hips, and while your eyes have grown sharp, he can tell the teasing tone in your voice, the smirk which threatens to expose how hard you’re trying to be serious. “Where were you when the pickle jar found its way into our home? Because you know I wouldn't take it—”

He shouldn’t smile, but he does.

The smirk cracks through—sliding past your forced serious expression. Cutting through, blooming light and warmth across the rest of your face, making your eyes glint, twinkle, fucking sparkle.

Javi shouldn’t want to grab the camera from the table behind him. Shouldn’t want to snap a photo of you like this—capture it, wait to develop it and then keep it for himself to smile at another time.

In all honesty, he knows he probably doesn’t even need another photo of you. Should save the shot for the next time the two of you head out on a hike—but, fuck does he want this one. Your hands on your hips, head tilted, a smirk desperate to glide over your mouth.

He's not sure if you still love the gift you’d given him for his birthday, a sweet note attached to it: a way for you to keep capturing the now. Because he doubts you expected the now to be mainly you.

But, he liked having the moments. Them piling up in the coffee table drawer—one, in particular, inside his wallet. You all shy, hands posed where he’d said—I’d only do this for you, Javi.

He doesn’t confess that there are lots of things he has found he’d only do for you. Many of them never thought possible before you fell into his life. Just like how he’d never been one for memories.

Now, since you, he likes the reminder. Enjoys building the collection of how real this is—a full-on album of just pointless things. Soft mornings, tipsy evenings and you in the green apron his Pop bought you as you tried your hand at baking; then there were the many walks, you feeding animals and lots of snaps of the home the two of you are building.

He just wants to collect them all. Have them for himself. The evidence of this peaceful domesticity, this happiness—this present he never thought would be his future.

“I love you,” he interrupts, all soft, practically falling from him—tumbling out past his sly smile.

It cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. Him just watching your eyes widen a fraction more than before—lips remaining parted, hands sliding from your hips to hang easily at your sides.

A calmness settles over him, a dryness growing in his throat, as he moves around the counter, fingers nudging one of the cupboard doors to close. Unsure how he can articulate how happy you make him, more today than yesterday, and likely even more tomorrow than now.

Reaching out, he pulls you by the loop of your jeans, body meeting his—all willing, suddenly flush with his.

“How about…” he begins, the slope of his nose brushing against your cheek, feeling your fingers slide around his waist, dig a little more purposefully into his side, holding him, present, rooted. “We stop accepting food from people out of politeness—start just saying no?”

He peers at you. Watching as you think over it, assess it. “What, like a New Year’s resolution?”

Moving his hands, he cups your cheeks in his palms, guiding your eyes up to him. Just like every time before, since the first moment they landed on him—found him, buried deep into his soul, they pulled a smile. One pair of eyes undoing him, an array of shades swirling, individual paint strokes that made up the eyes he chose to have burned into him forever. The metal on his finger is evident of it, pressing it against your skin as you stare, waiting.

Swallowing, he smiles. “Yeah.”

Nodding, you trace your lower lip with your tongue—wetting it, likely knowing you’ve captured his attention. “I can do that.”

“You sure, baby?”

His hand slid down your cheek, and jaw, landing on your neck—the fabric of your clothes brushing against his wrist and forearm.

“You’re very nice, too nice sometimes.”

Laughing, it brushes over him. All soft, warm, It fluttering over him as you take him in, and as he studies you. “I can try to be less nice.”

Humming, he slides two fingers under your chin, positioning you there, the gap between the two of you closing, and closing—

“Could leave you wanting, for example,” you say. Adding an emphasis to the -ting, making it pop.

"That would be cruel."

Ghosting his lips over yours, the hand on your side clutches you a little tighter. “I know you want me on the counter, Javi. Saw it in your eyes when I was bent over in front of you. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you—mi esposo.”

Groaning, he kisses you—a test, soft, quick. Eyes focused on the way yours briefly chased his.

“But,” you say, pulling your face back from his touch, “I have to say no, out of politeness—can’t fuck a man who would accuse me of willingly accepting pickles.”

“Pimienta…”

And you grin, wickedly.

And fuck does he want a photo of that too.

visit @pickled-pena to read the full masterlist of entries.

#pickledpena #pickledpeña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #pickledpeña writing challenge #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pickled-peña #pickled-pena #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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fahye · 8 months

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book recs: aug-sept '23

THE BAYOU by arden powell -- queer horror novella! this is set in 1930s louisiana and like all good horror it's about horrible unburied secrets haunting you. but also gators and summer flooding and guilt and, uh, letting a hot mysterious man/fae/?other? rail you in a church. superb. no notes.

TELL ME I'M WORTHLESS by alison rumfitt -- MORE QUEER HORROR! TRANS HORROR!! this is a haunted house book but the haunting is modern british fascism and the house is made of TERFs. the writing is fantastic. it's like being trapped in a small room with someone who is screaming loudly and endlessly, but like, in a good way.

THE SECRET COUNTRY by pamela dean -- this is an oldschool portal fantasy that somehow manages to combine excellent diana wynne jones vibes with my most common stress nightmare, ie. the one where you're in the Show but you've been so busy choreographing for the Show that you've forgotten to learn your own lines. baffling. very enjoyable.

KNOCKOUT by sarah maclean -- listen. listen. this series is about a historical vigilante girl gang, and this is the romance between a lady explosives expert and the exasperated policeman she wants very much to bang (heheh. bang.) very miss fisher vibes and also, somehow, very Fuck The Police (...heheh.) I adored it.

AN ISLAND PRINCESS STARTS A SCANDAL by adriana herrera -- a very horny and fun f/f histrom about a venezuelan artist in paris and the duchess she is, again, extremely determined to bang. I love this series of adriana's, with all its glorious historical detail about the various latinx delegations to the grand paris exhibition.

THE SPIDER AND HER DEMONS by sydney khoo -- YA fantasy about a chinese-malaysian australian girl who is also, inconveniently, a spider demon. this has an aro-ace heroine and heaps of very cool and creepy body horror and made me desperate to go back to sydney and eat banh mi in cabramatta. a+.

WHITE CAT, BLACK DOG by kelly link -- so you know how kelly link is an absolute genius master of the short story form? you know how the best fairytale retellings are both chattily straightforward and bonkers weird? YEAH. my god this collection is so good.

#book recs #yes I do read an absurd amount #my purpose on this earth #is to extend your TBR #have fun darlings

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brbgottagetkfc · 11 days

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•• will you still love me when I'm no longer young & beautiful ?•• (PT-1)

☆ pairing : Teacher!suguru x F!student!reader

☆ summary : you pursue your mentor throughout your highschool years to no avail, nearly convinced of the futility of your attempts, until one day he surprises you.

☆ t/w : depictions of immoral teacher-student relationships, age-gap, (reader is 20, while suguru is 5 years older), toxic behaviour, obsession, possesive attitude, jealousy, angst, suggestive language, reader has pick me syndrome (lmk if i need to add more)

☆ a/n : hihihi guys this is my first time publishing a fic I'm giddy hehehe, NOT PROOFREAD because i'm blind to my mistakes ^○^ . Please leave your thoughts, i would be absolutely melting if at least some of y'all enjoy it!

☆ wc : 2.1k

"If I hadn't been the one to train you, I would've questioned the sanity of those who let you take charge of a mission by yourself," Suguru muses, sighing as he removes his reading glasses, lithe fingers brushing away the bangs fluttering in front of his face. His narrowing gaze darts back and forth from the mission report you've just dropped onto his desk to you lounging on an empty desk and dangling your feet, showing no remorse or concern for the mess you've left behind.

"Seriously?" he prods, resting his chin upon intertwined fingers as he leans on the desk on his elbows. "Nothing to say for yourself?"

You, however, give him a lazy grin, finding his chagrin adorable.

"Tell me it wasn't absolutely epic..." you argue, brows raised and lips quirked to a side, "Besides, you don't stumble across an exorcism this intense if you insist on playing by the ru—OUCH....!!" You yelp as his fingers strike down between your brows in a HARD flick.

"You can't expect me to keep ignoring your shenanigans," he begins, the smooth baritone of his voice almost distracting from the patronizing undertones. Almost.

You scowl at him, still gingerly rubbing away at the spot between your brows, for the theatrics of course, debating whether to let your insolent mouth run until he's ripping his hair out in frustration trying to reason with you, OR, just be....... Reasonable.

"I asked Ijichi to put up a veil this time since you—" he emphasizes the following in air quotes "—keep forgetting to put up your own, and then you go and decide to shatter the veil yourself?? Did you know YOU'RE the leading cause of gas leak explosions in Tokyo in the past year? How do you seriously expect to get away with this every time!?"

"You know the veil messes with my technique." You respond, dry as toast, deliberately feigning disinterest to try and get a rise out of him.

"Skill issue," he quips back, barely concealing a wry grin. That cheeky fucker.

"Look at you trying to sound all 'down with the kids'—A for effort," you tease.

"I'm serious. I've got Yaga and the higher-ups breathing down my neck about the mess you make on a regular basis. You have to get your act together."

As if... You think to yourself, thoroughly enjoying putting him in this position. You like that look on his face, the one where he tries and fails to reason with you, jaw clenching a little with every exchange..

"You're just jealous of my legacy," you accuse between yawns, laying down sideways on the row of desks. "Besides, I receive nothing but praise and recommendation."

"Start doing your own paperwork and see how long it lasts," he retorts, his gaze narrowing as he takes note of your complete lack of decorum. He sighs but doesn't comment on it. He never does when it comes to you.

"They won't say anything. I'm indispensable," you state with a cocky grin, making him groan as you hop off your makeshift desk bed and settle on his desk this time.

"You're awfully cocky for a second-grade" he murmurs, reclining in his chair, lips tugging at the corner as he watches you shuffle and get comfortable on his desk. Again, he chooses not to comment. "Satoru's rubbing off on you."

"Gojo? He's just an extra on the set of the play I lead," you scoff, watching him visibly grimace at the soul-wrenching level of cringe you drop.

"Yeah, don't do metaphors again," he deadpans.

Well shit.... "I concur,"

Silence.

He gives you a knowing glance, and the both of you simultaneously burst into a chortling fit

"And, by the way, it's semi-grade one to you now," you reveal, wiping at the corner of your eye as your laughing fits subside.

"You got promoted?" he raises his brows. "That proves it, there's no god," he says, not bothering to conceal his self satisfied smirk as he openly picks on you- his delightfully humorous, witty, underestimated prodigy (says who? You of course!). He thinks he did something here, that's why he doesn't anticipate you picking up the pencil shavings from his desk and throwing them at his face.

"Hey—ack..ACHOO!" he lets out a violent sneeze as he inhales the rubbish you launch at him.

Giving him a smirk that firmly communicates - "you deserved it", you lean further back into the desk as he clutches a tissue to his face and sneezes a couple more times.

"Acting like a fucking monkey all the time," he mumbles, almost incoherently under his breath.

"Best training, thanks to you, circus master," you say, giving him the most annoyingly saccharine grin you can muster. Something purrs inside your chest, rearing it's head as you watch his expression span from exasperation to indignation before settling on exhausted acceptance.

He leans back against his chair, eyeing you from where he sits.

“You do realize, if I really wanted to put my foot down, I could, right?”

"Could you?" You raise a brow. "Besides, if I really wanted to make your life the seventh circle of hell, I could."

"Don't you already?"

"Not even close," you retort.

This was getting boring, and you were itching to indulge in your favorite pastime, which would be—pissing off your annoyingly perfect mentor. There was nothing more exhilarating than pushing him until he was too worked up to maintain the pretense of professionalism between the two of you.

You hadn't quite managed to throw him completely off the edge yet, but there were times...

Times you both knew how close he was to snapping, to dropping the act and just wrapping his fingers around your neck.... push you against a wall and make you eat your own words and beg for mercy. Those moments flashed by as soon as they came,

too soon, always too soon.

You sigh, frustrated as you watch him watch you lounging on his desk. His eyes betray nothing of what went on in his mind, but you know his indifference was feigned, a desperate attempt to let nothing else slip through. Which is precisely why you were determined to keep pushing his buttons until he cracked. It was a game, a dangerous dance between defiance and discipline.

As you lounge on his desk, you can't help but wonder what it would take to unravel him completely. Your relentless barrage of insolence? Or perhaps it is a subtle manipulation of his emotions?

"Are you even listening to me?" Suguru's voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. He was staring at you with a mixture of irritation and amusement, clearly waiting for a response.

"Of course, sensei," you replied with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Every word, hanging on your every syllable-"

Which, obviously, was the furthest thing from the truth. Suguru had a habit of trying to fill in the silence with an absolutely torturous amount of lectures regarding duty. Discipline. Responsibility. Bleh.

You, however, possessed the beautiful ability to tune out filler words in favor of focusing on the way his fingers rubbed at his constantly throbbing temple, how his bangs never stayed in no matter how tight he tied his hair back, or how many times he tucked them behind his ears. His arms flexed under the snug stretch of his button-down, reminding you of the strength they possessed, from times he had pinned you down on the floors underneath him, arms twisting behind your back, his knees pressing into the back of your thighs to hold you in place, warm breath panting next to your ear, chastising you for letting your guard slip, pointing out the flaws in your form, all while those insolent bangs tickled the nape of your neck...

Yep ..... Kicking and clawing, blocking and restraining atop the training mats were about as far as you both had come to tangling limbs, undoubtedly your most treasured aspect of this..... dynamic between you and your mentor.

You constantly found yourself hoping one day the thin shackle of restraint binding the both of you would shatter, that he would snap, that his lips would find your skin, hands would roam, breaths mingling, and tongues clashing, But Suguru never gave in. He never crossed that line.

Although, he sure loved to linger on it.

It was eating away at you. The build up of emotions and urges, the aggravation of continually toeing the invisible line

you'd seen the frustration mirrored in his eyes, In the fleeting moments he'd failed to mask himself behind his indifference.

That's why you gave it your all, pouring yourself , desperate to tip the scales of his morality, needing him to fold.

You'd tried almost everything.

From calling him by his given name without prompting, to invading his personal space, interrupting him mid lesson, waltzing in and out of his office as you saw fit, taking his belongings as if staking claim....

and he let you

It frustrated you beyond comprehension, that he'd just...

Let you do however you pleased, blurring the boundaries between familiarity and impropriety, let you say whatever you wished, never drawing a line, Yet, he'd never allowed himself to make a move or reciprocate. Leaving you fuming and confused, fueling your desire further.

Armed with your refusal to let go, your increasingly stubborn denial, and an abundance of confidence in yourself, you continued your attempt at wearing him down as he tolerated with wry amusement, never giving you an inch of ground...

Which, is precisely why you felt your mind go numb and your chest constrict with wanton anticipation as Geto Suguru, your mentor and long-standing obsession, laid his head on your lap and sighed.....

"I swear you'll be the death of me"

♡••••••♡••••••••♡••••••••♡••••••••♡••••••♡

Suguru sighs, warm exhale caressing the skin of your knees just a few inches below where the hem of your skirt ended. Your skirt-

'I ought to give her some some credit' he thought to himself, smirking inwardly as he pondered your reasoning behind switching your uniform. In your 4 years of attending Jujutsu Tech, you'd always opted for an ensemble consisting of a zip jacket and a pair of flowy pants- not unlike his uniform from his own days as a student at the tech school- claiming better fluidity of movement.

He hadn't really cared one way or another. There was no room to think. Suguru was extremely careful about the way he let himself perceive you. Even without your constant badgering, your aggressively relentless attempts at flirting, following him around, intentionally pushing his buttons, and unprompted fits of possessiveness and jealousy- you were a temptation to him. It was a practice in restraint, being with you, around you, training, teaching, observing, correcting- while keeping his hands to himself, and his thoughts in check. It was near about impossible to keep up, and you with your stubborn determination and self-assured smirk didn't do anything to help that.

That's why Suguru never paid much attention to what you wore, lest it drift southwards, making his stand at resistance even more difficult than it already was. But that was before

Before you sauntered into his office wearing that goddamned skirt. Shiny, vinyl-like fabric buttoned at your waist, wrapping snugly around your hips and the top of your thighs, ending a good few inches above your knees.

'fuck me-' He thought to himself when you walked in, jacket unzipped, shirt untucked and unbuttoned slightly at the top, and that skirt stretching over your ass, begging to ride up as you made yourself comfortable- and Suguru realized he probably shouldn't be standing up anytime soon.

'Fuck me' he thought to himself as you slammed the hot mess of a mission report on his desk- letting him know you intended to explore any and every avenue in pursuit of making life hard for him.

Suguru wondered if you knew just how much he had to struggle, to keep himself from giving you a piece of his mind, a taste of your own medicine as you kept up your antics. the switch up was crazy- One moment you were a model student, keeping up with whatever crazy challenge he threw at you, exceeding any and all expectations- and the next moment you were a complete brat, refusing to comply with his instructions, intentionally causing chaos and spelling trouble for him. He wondered if you knew that the gap from him telling you to shut up, to him making you, was narrowing alarmingly.

'Fuck me-' he thought to himself as you decided to jump his desk and face him in, plush thighs just an arms length away as you continued your perpetual assault on him- making his blood rush in his ears, fingers twitching and jaw ticking from the effort of holding back....

'Fuck me-' he mumbled one last time, realizing he was too far gone to resist you anymore.

'You win baby, now fuck me'

♡•••••♡••••••♡••••••♡••••••♡••••••♡•••••♡

divider by @gigittamic

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lunargrapejuice · 15 days

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LUNAAAAA ily 🤭 anyway i've read a bunch of your fics and i never thought i would like sephiroth until i read what you write so pls pls pls if you can write smth smutty and sweet of seph it would kill me (p.s. preferably after him and reader have their first baby and they've been so pent up after almost 2 years of not being able to do it)

hi babes!! ily too!🥰🩷 im so glad i could help bring you over to loving sephiroth heheh🤭 i did take this idea but i did change it a bit and then kinda ran away with it? i still hope you like it! thank you so much for reading and requesting something!

the sweetest of dark dreams

sephiroth x fem!reader | 6.3k + words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, porn with plot, un named daughter, hurt/comfort, post ffvii story, violence and drugging (not by seph), he's not pre-nibelheim sane but not crazy seph either?, possessiveness, explicit sexual content, mating press, cream pie, implied multiple rounds, i think that it but please let me know i missed anything!

synopsis: the first thing you saw upon opening your eyes is sephiroth with your daughter smiling at his side and tugging at his sleeve but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered that maybe you never woke up in the first place and you’re still dreaming. is it a nightmare or a sweet dream? you wonder again and again as two days pass, questioning if any of this is even real because how could it possibly be real when your husband who should be dead is suddenly.. here, alive and breathing and making your daughter smile. you don’t know what to believe but all of this feels so unbelievably real it’s hard to tell your brain and your heart otherwise and he doesn't wait long to show you just how real this is.

you’ve yet to decide if this is a dream or a nightmare or which you would even want it to be if you knew.

it started off as a nightmare. no it was so much more than that when you lost sephiroth after the nibelheim mission and somehow even worse than that when you found out you were pregnant. pregnant and utterly alone. on the run from shinra, desperate to ensure your baby would never be known by them, would never have to come close to one of their labs or needles.

then your daughter was born. a mix of you and your soulmate and beyond perfect. the rays of light in her eyes, his eyes, helping guide you through the darkness that had clouded the path in front of you for those first nine months without him and thus nightmare began to turn into a bittersweet dream.

the sweetness of it was easier to take in the more she grew, with each successful day that you’re both free of shinra, but a day never passed that you didn’t think of sephiroth or feel the permanent ache in your chest that had been present since you were parted. and you were never blind to the threats that still lingered. the truth that your daughter shares sephiroths jenova cells and if shinra ever found her.. well you would be sure they never got to her so you would not have to find out and she would never have to know any of the pain her father was put through.

it's what sephiroth would have wanted too.

nearly six years of you and her, safe and sound, six years of giggles and smiles and you doing everything you can to protect her, a dream you live out for both you and your beloved and when you heard of the explosion of shinra, what sephiroth had done, you had hoped maybe the running could finally be over, but it only took one moment for it to turn into a horror you didn’t dare dream of, that you could hardly take and have relived every night since in your dreams.

“mommy?”

“yes baby?” you replied as calmly as you could and prayed that your daughter couldn’t feel the rapidness of your heart beat under her hands that cling around your neck but you couldn't suppress it no matter how hard you tried.

“is something wrong?”

she’s always been more aware than you know how to handle at times but how could you lie when at this moment everything seemed wrong, so very fucking wrong, like everything you did to try to keep her safe wasn’t enough and never would have been. you remembered crying about how you couldn’t do this without sephiroth during her birth and maybe you were right all along..

you heard he died along with many others that fateful day but there was no mistaking hojo when you spotted him in the city you visited for supplies near the place you had called home for the last half year and the devilish expression on his face when your eyes met let you know he had not mistaken you either.

that sickening smile had only grown when his gaze came to the small child holding your hand, her silver hair so similar to her fathers if her slitted pupils weren’t enough to give her away to him. though you honestly don’t know how much of a look he got of her because so quick you had your daughter in your arms and slipped back into the crowd that frequents this market street.

you didn’t look back but you felt him and others following you.

“whatever happens, just don’t let go of me, okay?” you asked of your daughter, hugging her closer to your body. you had dropped your groceries somewhere on the side of the road to help lighten the load and get you moving faster as she wordlessly buried herself into your chest, holding on like her life depended on it.

she held on just as tightly when she was ripped from your hold by a man dressed in a shinra infantry uniform only minutes outside of the city. like they had been waiting for you, they cornered you against an abandoned building and before you realized it, hojo was behind you and you felt the prick of a thick needle sinking into your side.

there were a dozen others that surrounded you, some pulling your weakening body away from your daughter as others tried to make her let go of you. you’ve never felt so helpless, so scared and even though you know it’s only a dream this time around, the emotions flood back like they had then.

“what did you do to me?!” you screamed at hojo in your fight to reach for her but no matter how much you tried to move you couldn’t get your body to do anything and the place where hojo had injected you burned like the heat of it was draining every ounce of your strength and consciousness.

you hardly heard his answer over the cries of your daughter and the adrenaline pumping through your veins with no way to release after whatever the hell hojo put inside of you. you screamed, unable to hold it back when your mouth felt like it's the only thing that could move or do anything at all. it made your lungs burn with dry heat, you thought they may even burst with how it rages inside of your chest but you could only hope in the explosion it would take hojo and these ass holes with you.

by some miracle it ignited your muscles and you tugged at the hands that held onto you, your strength surprising them and their hold slipped, allowing you a moment to tumble away towards your daughter, reaching out for her with bruised arms just as gunshots echo all around you.

a gust of wind, like the beat of a giant wing, swirled around you, sending hojos lackeys flying in every direction but you and your daughter remained steady, not a hair flying in the wind. before your hands can connect with her she’s being lifted into the air by gloved hands and when you follow them to the person picking her up, feeling your body succumbing to the serum hojo injected you with, you see sephiroth holding her on his hip, reaching down for you with his other arm, a dark black wing surrounding you like a shield before the entire world faded away.

you awake with the same jolt you had once the serum had run its course, body jolting and gasping for air but unlike then, you’re quick to realize where you are and that things are okay. a weird, uneasy definition of the word but your daughter is safe and hojo is dead and that is enough for you. at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

it had to be enough because right now nothing else aside from those two things make any sense to you and even the latter you’re only taking at the word of the familiar stranger currently asleep with your daughter in his arms on the plush chair in her bedroom.

it’s only been a few days since you woke up after being asleep for two weeks thanks to hojos concoction and the first thing you saw upon opening your eyes was sephiroth with your daughter smiling at his side and tugging at his sleeve but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered that maybe you never woke up in the first place and you’re still dreaming. is it a nightmare or a sweet dream? you wonder again and again as two days pass, questioning if any of this is even real.

how could it possibly be real when your husband who should be dead is suddenly.. here, alive and breathing and making your daughter smile and claiming hojo is no longer a threat because he personally saw to it and you’ll all be safe now. he’ll be sure of it. you honestly don’t know what to believe but all of this feels so unbelievably real it’s hard to tell your brain and your heart otherwise and regardless of whether it is or not, you need to continue to protect your daughter. so even in this foggy state between reality and a fucked up beautiful dream, you do what you’ve always done to keep her safe.

she may be a heavy sleeper but sephiroth never has been himself and you doubt that’s change in the years you’ve been apart so when you sneak out of the house, you hold your boots against your chest as you tiptoe out of the front door and hold your breath with every step until you’re on the edge of the small garden you keep, sitting on the wood plank of the garden box and lace up your boots before making your way back towards the city.

two weeks you’d been asleep. two weeks of not earning any gil and you don’t even know how sephiroth has paid for or gotten the food currently in your pantry. it’s just another worry on your shoulders that makes it hard to breath or think straight but it’s one you can do something about at least. you’d have made better care taking plans for your daughter in your absence had you not been asleep all this time and the fights you planned to join in the undercity for gil being only tonight until next month. you couldn’t wait that long and having joined them before, you know you’ll be fine. thank the goddess there were no lingering effects of the serum as far as you could tell.

that doesn’t stop how sickly on edge you feel the entire walk, like hojo or sephiroth might pop up from the shadows, like you’ve done a terrible thing by leaving your daughter with a man you aren’t sure is real. a stranger, you had called him earlier but you’re just as much of a stranger to him now too. so long without him, your only focus being keeping your daughter alive and safe at any cost and despite your heart with a wound that not even time could heal. you’re not the same person and if he really is the man you once called your husband, the same one who had tried to destroy the planet, he isn’t the same either.

he had been gentle with your daughter over the past two days of you carefully watching his every move though. she had hardly wanted to be away from him since you’ve awoken and he had seen to her care during the time you were drugged to sleep without as much as a scratch on her little body. she trusted him and though you aren’t sure that you did, you didn’t think he’d hurt her and you’d do your best to get back before either of them noticed you were gone.

your dream replays in your mind as you walk past the place where sephiroth had reappeared before you, right when you needed him. in the moonlight you’d never guess it was the place of a slaughter or the return of someone you never thought you’d see again. it looks almost peaceful in your slowed steps taking in the blades of grass that flatten under your footsteps but it does anything but bring you calmness.

on the brink of losing it, your mind running a million miles an hour with how to wake up from this dream, how to discern what’s real and what isn’t, you’re thankful the undercity is filled with more life than the actual city is thanks to more than just the townsfolk being here to watch the fights happening in an arena that sits in the center of it all. no one pays you any mind and the endless chatter along with the announcers echoing in the background nearly drowns out your anxious thoughts.

you’d need to figure them out at some point. you know you can’t avoid it forever but it would have to wait for tonight, until you could control just one thing and be sure there was enough gil for whatever your family might need in the coming weeks, until you could feel something that was undoubtedly real to knock you out of this sorry state if for no other reason but your daughter.

like always, you would need to push through for her even when you’re breaking in ways you don’t know where to begin to cover up or fix. then again, maybe you’re just unfixable to begin with.

having made your way through most of the crowd, you’re nearly at the carved out side entrance of the arena to look over the fight lists and sign up for one’s you know you’ll be able to win against other people and monsters but like he had been waiting for you to arrive, you see sephiroth leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his head down, silver locks covering most of his face just a curtain of starlight. he no longer wears his normal armor but there's no denying it’s him. in the busyness no one seems to notice him either but he’s all you can see.

in a blink, his attention is on you, as if he felt your presence, and you’re frozen in the street, unsure what it is that’s gluing your feet to the ground. fear? guilt? worry? you can’t begin to describe the feeling properly but it's like black tendrils root you in place and make your heart beat uncontrollably, uncomfortably.

unfolding his arms, he takes long strides towards you, his eyes never leaving yours, the expression on his face completely unreadable and as composed as ever. every conscious part of your body tells you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction, all the while your heart whispers that he would never hurt you. run towards him. you push the urge down, remind yourself he isn’t your sephiroth, and when the nerves in your feet finally get the message and move, it’s away from him that they choose. he’s so close to you by then though and you know you only get away because he’s letting you.

you can’t get out the ‘excuse me’s and ‘i’m sorry’s that sit on the tip of your tongue as you hurry away from the arena and back towards the entrance you came from, accidentally knocking into patrons without looking back. you don’t even know why you’re running when you know there was no getting away from him. even if he’s letting you go now, he was faster. stronger. dangerous. and worst of all and more likely than anything else, maybe you’ll realize he’s just some twisted joke conjured by your subconscious or shinra in order to get whatever they want from you.

it’s just outside the dimly lit entrance to the undercity that sephiroth has had enough of chasing after you and before you can stop in your tracks, he’s standing in front of you, the lights of the undercity reflecting back on his handsome features, and he’s quickly changing your direction and backing you into metal wall of the normally closed off entrance with his steps only inches from yours. it’s only the two of you around with the arena growing louder, telling you the event is about to begin.

he doesn’t touch you, there’s not a place your bodies connect, no where you’ve dared to reach for in the two days you’ve been awake but you can feel the warmth of him at this distance, smell his familiar leather and flora scent, and it wraps around you like a blanket you had nearly forgotten the touch of but you hesitate to melt into its comfort. his strong arms cage you in, not letting you escape his intense gaze and towering height, and on bated breath you wait for him to make the first move, to say something, anything because for two days you’ve hardly had any words between you but it seems he was not going to let that continue any longer.

“what are you doing here?” he asks and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sound of his voice that wavers with what you swear is worry.

but it couldn’t have been, you tell yourself. he’s not real. this isn’t real. wake up - wake up!

“it looks to me like you already know,” your words are like venom on your own tongue. you hate the taste but you can’t stop it with the overwhelming feelings currently consuming you, that you don’t know where to begin to process. before he can say anything you continue, finally finding the strength to move and using it to shove him away from you with your hands planted firmly on his chest. it’s the first time you’ve touched him since waking up and you’re almost surprised that he feels solid. it steals the poison behind your words, makes you falter and they’re only defeated now. “you don’t get to judge my choices. i do what i have to for her. i always have and i always will.”

free from his caging, you don’t try to go back to the undercity. you know he wouldn’t let you and gods dammit your daughter is alone right now - your feet start to head back towards home at a quick pace, not waiting up for him or looking back to see if he is following you.

“that’s not the issue here,” his voice is close when he speaks again, as though he’s right on your heels.

you stop in your tracks, turning on the balls of your feet to meet his gaze. goddess how is he even before you..

“not the issue?” you can’t help but laugh. it feels horrible though, bitter and heavy and brings tears to your eyes. “then tell me, what exactly is the problem because i can think of so many bigger issues than earning gil to keep my daughter safe!” so quickly you’ve lost your cool, every word you speak brings you closer and closer to bursting into tears.

“you’ve done so much for her,” he says and despite the flinch of the words you used to claim your daughter without him, there’s a soft adoration in his tone that makes you think this really must be some kind of mirage meant to torture you further, to break you, and it’s working. he takes a step closer to you, reaching for you with his gloveless hand but his touch never connects. “but putting yourself in danger is no way of protecting her.”

your tears begin to shed without your permission, letting go with them the floodgates of your emotions. this was too much to take, too much to process when you don’t know what to believe or do when years of longing pain crashes to the surface in a suffocating wave. “what would you even know about it when you’ve been goddess knows where - what - trying to destory the fucking planet - while ive been in agony without you?! trying to get through every day-”

you take a step away from him, thankful there seems to be no one else around you to hear your loss of control, to see the way you run your hands over your face and hair and take in breaths that only seem to fuel the heat inside you that is cracking you with ever added degree.

“did you even come back for me after nibelheim? did you know i was pregnant or about our daughter?!” you’re sobbing uncontrollably, unsure if he can understand your words but you couldn’t stop them just as much as you couldn’t control your weeping eyes. you can’t meet his either when you continue, “i - i don’t even know if you’re real sephiroth! the only thing i know that's real is her and even if this, right now, is some kind of messed up dream hojo’s put me in, i have to take care of her in the chance it’s not and if it is then- then i have to wake up so i can save her. i have to do something! - anything - i -”

the touch of his hands on your face, cradling your jaw with gentle strength, stops you in your tracks before you can fully succumb to fear and grief and every little emotion firing off inside of you, before you drown in your own tears.

sephiroth says your name and though you can’t tell if it’s helping or making your tears worse, you don’t fight him. “you don’t think i’m real?” he asks, his voice deep and eerily tranquil but before you can protest or reply, his lips are on yours, pressing together in a deep, claiming kiss. one of his hands carding into your hair while the other grabs your trembling hands and brings them up to his chest.

you can feel his steady heartbeat under your palms, taste him on your lips with each kiss you return that’s coated in your tears and the way he handles you feels like a distant memory. you want to melt into it, let yourself be weak and handled by him like you had years ago but you can’t bring yourself to give in. it’s not real and it hurts that much worse because of it.

with unreserved strength, he presses you against him with a hand now at your back, splayed across you in a possessive grip, keeping you completely flush against his larger body, your feet nearly off the ground in your reach for him. you gasp against his lips at the sudden contact and when he takes in a deep breath, he affirms you as though he had read your mind, “this is real,” you feel the pressure of his forehead on yours and hiccup in your sobbing at the contact. “and you will never be without me again.”

“sephiroth..” you hold onto the shirt he wears, the fabric bunching in your fists as if he might disappear in the wind if you did not hold onto him. in this state you don’t know if you can believe him but so badly do you want it to be true and you think maybe for a moment you can give in, let yourself believe it for the sake of your heart that’s filled with a hope you worry might break you like you never before if it turns out to not be true.

you couldn’t bear to lose him again. even if neither of you are the same as before, there is no doubt in your mind that he is a part of your soul and heart just as you are a part of his. that you will always be tied to one another in a bond you can’t explain in words but that you’re certain transcends lifetimes and universes.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

the front door to the house creaks open slowly and for the first time since you gave in, you break from sephiroths lips, trying to catch your breath in quiet gasps thanks to the tears still flowing from your eyes. he’s carried you the entire way home, with your legs wrapped around his thin waist and his ever present strength helping him support you with minimal effort. he isn’t keen on letting you go now that you’re home either.

the house is quiet and in his walk to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, you both peek into your daughter's room to see her sleeping peacefully where sephiroth had tucked her in before following after you. you reach down and shut the door and in his next step, he captures your lips once more in a kiss that makes you light headed and dizzy.

he’s quick to press you against your bedroom door as the click of the lock fills the room and is quickly replaced by your whimpers. aside from when you slept here for those two long weeks, unmoving but with your heart still beating, he hasn’t stepped foot back in your room despite the fact it was torture to be so close and yet so far from you. he had wanted to devour you from the moment you first woke up and looked at him with those eyes that were so closed off but still so full of the love that changed him, that made him realize there was something he could not live without.

he wasn’t well without you by his side either and regardless of whether you believed him or not, he hadn’t known of your daughter but when he found out, all he had done was search for you until he heard the planet vibrate with your scream that shook his soul and brought him to you, never to be parted again.

“have you remained only mine angel?” he asks low against your lips, with an urgency that tells you he needs you to tell him. he gives you the chance, lifting up further up on his waist and stepping away from the door, latching his lips on the base of your neck, nibbling and sucking on your supple skin.

you’re quick to nod, your words following after he has you on the bed and is on top of you, not letting an inch between your bodies. “only ever yours,” you promise and you mean it whole heartily. there could never be anyone but him in your bed or in your heart.

“only mine,” he echoes, the words vibrating through his chest and then his teeth are sinking deeper into your flesh. you hold back a cry, feeling your body break out in goosebumps as you writhe underneath his broad frame, trying to keep quiet. he shifts and presses his hard, clothed cock over your sex, rolling his hips with a soothing lick over the marks of his teeth on your flesh. “all mine.”

the way he strips you of your clothes is such a stark contrast to how he handles your body. the fabric is carelessly ripped and torn in a ravenous fashion, the fibers easily giving way to his strength but when his fingers touch your skin that lay beneath, they’re acutely aware to your fragility compared to what had become of his own body and maps out every change in your own since sephiroth last saw you like this.

he remains completely clothed above you, his pupils the thinnest of slits underneath thick dark lashes that grow heavier with aching hunger the longer he stares at you. a piercing gaze that makes your entire body tremble and burn with heat. a predator gaze. the eyes of your other half that you only saw in your dreams for so long. but your dreams had never been this real. your heart had not beat like this in six years, not even your endless tears could begin to replicate the feelings coursing through you right now and you couldn’t control a single one of them but you didn’t need to when you surrender all of yourself to him.

the pressure of his body against yours once more grounds you, the warmth of his breath and lips on the skin below your ear, his hand that travels down your inner thigh towards where you want him the most making you whimper in a plea for more. at this point you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stop crying but your tears are slower now, your hands tugging at his clothes for purchase or to get them off of him or some mix of them both.

“i’ll show you how real i am darling,” he whispers against you, placing a kiss to the space below the lobe of your ear right as you feel his fingers on your cunt, slowly parting your folds from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the soft and wet feeling of you. “be a good girl for me.”

in all the time you’ve been apart you’ve never forgotten the feeling of him but have never been able to mimic it with your own hands and could not even dream of it with another, let alone follow through with it just to sate your needs. there’s nothing compared to the way he knows your body better than yourself, the intense adoration he shows it and how easily he finds the perfect pressure against your clit that has you clenching around nothing, arching into his chest, and soaking his fingers.

and when he finally sinks two of his digits into you, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming out. it feels so good, so right, so real. his body lifts from yours, spreading his legs and yours thighs on top of his follow, giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt.

“‘s real,” you don’t mean for the words to be spoken out loud despite the fact they echo over and over again in your mind and you say them so quietly he might not have heard you had he not been so keenly aware of every inch of you.

his other hand comes up to your face, the pads of his thumb soothing below your bottom lip in a gentle caress that coaxes your jaw to slacken and hear the your sweet noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your tight hole, curling them when they’re buried knuckles deep inside of you.

“i’m real,” he confirms, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

your hands hold onto his muscular arms, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin with every lewd squelch from between your legs each time he pulls his fingers away and pushes back into you with skilled movements until you’re coming so quick, so hard, around his fingers. he massages that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars behind your closed eyes, his thumb pressing against you clit in time with his movements and your orgasm rocks your body, adding to your tears that he begins wipes with his hand on your face as he watches you break around him, feeling himself growing impossibly harder behind the confines of his pants at how beautiful you are.

his chest is full of the anguish and relief of all these years without you, what he thought he had lost that only drove him to further madness but that was here before him now, that he would never be let out of his grasp again.

a whimper escapes your lips when he leaves you so very empty with the withdrawal of his fingers but you can’t bear to take your hands off of him. you need to feel more of him, all of him, and don’t stop your pitiful movements that pull at his clothes, shaking and needy. you can’t hold onto him tight enough but it doesn’t bother him, he doesn’t make you stop, and his much steadier hands help you take off all of his clothes, revealing every last bit of porcelain skin that you thought you would never see or touch again and the silken strands of hair that tickle your skin nearly everywhere your hands roam.

settling between your legs, he helps you stroke his cock in languid movements, his larger hand enveloping your own, mako filled eyes entirely focused on you, slitted pupils blown wide taking in the sweet divine bliss on the beautiful features of your face, the delicate curve of your breasts with every deep breath you try to take, the sticky slickness of your pussy that makes his hands on you tremble in held back strength and makes his mouth water.

“spread your legs for me,” he instructs, his free hand supporting your leg helping you move as he wishes. “spread them wider,” his voice falls deeper, your legs shake but not from the stretch. you do as he says and you let go of his big cock to reach your hands up around his neck to bring him down to your lips. his hair falls around you like streaks of moonlight, bringing you back to the place you always belonged and the softness of his lips on yours, the pressure of his leaking tip at your entrance, all reminding you how real this is. “just like that sweet girl.”

the thickness of him stretches you in a lovely ache that you only want more of and he takes it slow sinking into your tight walls until he’s buried to the hilt, all while kissing so passionately to muffle your shared moans, to feel and claim all of you that he could. his strong grip keeps you still, at the mercy of his movements. even when his hands travel from your hips to your legs while he begins to pull out of you just to sink back in with a powerful thrust, they have you at sephiroths will and you easily give it to him.

grabbing onto the fat of your thighs, relishing in the feeling of you in his hands once more, so pliant and desperate, he pushes your legs to your chest, spreading them wide, and sets a deep and brutal pace when he gives into everything he’s feeling that's only amplified by taking you like this.

at this angle he’s so deep, fucking you into the matress, and with how unchecked his power is, you don’t doubt you’ll have bruises where his hands hold you open for him but you want the proof that he’s yours again. that you won’t wake up to and he’ll be gone. you hold onto him with just as much fervor, your grip moves from his arms and bury in the thickness of his hair, tugging at the roots with every time you feel so full of him, so close to your release again already, and it only seems to spur him on more.

the bed posts move along the ground in time with his thrusts and when it’s somehow still not enough of you, his chest meets yours, his arms barely holding the majority of his weight over you that has you folded in half, whimpering underneath him with every jolt of his hips inside of you, the slap of his heavy balls against your ass joining your quieted cries of his name and his heavy breaths, his sweet praises.

“you’re taking me so well - ngh, fuck,” you clench around him, greedily sucking him back in when he’s pulling away from you. “my good girl.”

“‘m so close,” the words are breathless, barely there when they escape past your lips and the heat of them soaks into his own that can’t stop kissing you, delving his tongue into your mouth and tasting you again and again.

“i know,” his voice is octaves deeper, sensual in a way that only brings you that much closer. “don’t hold back. cum for me angel,” it feels like a gentle command, even with all the desperation and love behind his words. “need to feel you cum on my cock.”

“ah! s - seph-!” you can’t get out his name before the pressure between your legs bursts like it never has before and when you feel him throbbing inside of you, painting your walls with his seed, it only adds to the ethereal heat that washes over you and leaves you trembling in the drugging, hypnotizing atmosphere of him still hard inside of you, the feel of his body against you, the numbing tingle of your legs as he helps them unfold and settle comfortable around his hips.

he doesn’t stop there. your heart skips far too many beats at the loss of his chest on yours, not knowing where you began and he ended and your hands that try to pull him back to you are too weak to do anything but follow the way he moves you but he soothed you with his lithe fingers caressing your skin as they help you move onto your stomach.

you mewl at the sensation of his cock moving inside of you while he shifts you into this new position. the sticky mess between your legs drips onto the sheets below you but makes it easy to sheathe himself fully inside you with a gentle and small pull of your hips upwards.

most others would be terrified to be in such a vulnerable position with sephiroth but you’re nothing if not pliant and perfect when he plants his hands beside you, leaning down to kiss your neck as he bucks his hips into your sensitive pussy and whispers against your skin before sinking his teeth into your tender flesh again.

“i’m not done with you yet.”

bonus!!!

in the morning you wake up alone but the noise that erupted from somewhere else in the house and caused you to stir eases your heart before your mess of thoughts begins to come back to you. your daughter's giggles and though quiet compared to her own unrestrained shriek of laughter, you could still make out the deep chuckle of sephiroth.

slipping out of bed, you move slowly thanks to the ache in your muscles and between your legs, your steps a bit wobbly with each one you take to dress in something more decent and walk to the door. the more you move, the steadier you become and by the time you make it to the living area, stopping in your tracks to watch your beloved peel an orange for your daughter who talks to him animatedly, it’s a pleasurable hum throughout your body with every movement reminding you of the words he told you last night.

there’s still a lot to consider. a lot of questions to be answered. a lot of healing to be done. maybe you’ll never be back to normal or you'll be stronger than ever. you don’t have any answers, not for yourself or from him but for this morning, you can let yourself hope this will be the start of the dreams you shared with sephiroth since his days in soldier, whatever version of a normal life might be left for your little family.

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comments & reblogs would be so greatly appreciated!<3 thank you for reading ♡

#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader

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spaceraceart · 1 year

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Planet Personifications - Info Sheets

you may or may not have seen these guys floating around on here, but these fellas are my planet personifications! ive been meaning to post these for a while now (made sol’s sheet nearly a year ago lmao), but here they are!

i’ve always had a passion for astronomy, and combining it with my passion for character design lead to me making these guys a few years ago. i tend to focus more on what we’ve observed about these planets when figuring out their design and personality, which is always very fun for me hehehe.

if yall have any questions regarding these guys, feel free to ask! i may not get to it right away (my inbox is a mess yikes’’’) but i dunno i love these fellas so much asgdhahsd

(text on each sheet under read more)

Sol (the sun) [he/him - bi - 7′8″]: About as happy and "sunny" as you'd expect! He's the "leader" of the solar system and loves each and every one of his planets!

Mercury [he/him - gay - 5′3″]: The aloof first planet. He's a lot more talkative than you'd expect, able to hold convos that go on for hours. Has been through a lot but still living strong!

Venus [she/her - bi - 5′7″]: The explosive and derisive 2nd planet. Her acid skies and fiery temperatures leaves her always itching for a bit of destruction.

Earth (terra) [they/them - nb&bi - 5′7″]: Home sweet home! They're the solar system's sweetheart, arguably being it's most powerful planet. May or may not be the main character of reality.

Mars [he/him - bi - 5′5″]: The first planet after the ice line, Mars is very anxious, kinda depressed, and always ready for a bit of vandalism. Probably the most introverted extrovert you'll ever meet.

Jupiter [he/him - bi - 6′6″]: The largest planet in the solar system. He's a gentle-giant-in-training who's trying to atone for his past. His distinguished appearance poorly hides a friendly and silly soul.

Saturn [he/him - trans&bi - 6′4″]: The least dense of the planets. Generally the voice of reason among the planets, even if he seems somewhat self-absorbed. High standards for himself, but more for giving for others.

Uranus [he/him - bi - 6′1″]: Permanently on his side from a collision in his youth, Uranus has a sideways view of the world that tends to distance him from the other planets. It doesn't help he also has trouble feeling and expressing emotions.

Neptune [he/him - trans&gay - 6′1″]: The farthest planet in the solar system. Neptune is an anxious, emotional crybaby who has trouble calming down, and will often argue with people for hours on end. Good thing he has Uranus around to keep him in check.

Pluto [he/him - nb&ace - 5′0″]: The largest of the dwarf planets! Pluto has a very large and loud personality that makes up for his small size. Often left out of things, he will try to make his mark by any means necessary.

#art #original characters #planet gijinka #milky way fandom #mwf #sol #sun #mercury #venus #earth #mars #jupiter #saturn #uranus #neptune #pluto #original character #planet personification

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wowa-bublord · 1 month

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Does your Zack ever get to his true breaking point where everything is just too much to push away and he can't help but show his true vulnerability? And if so, what or who is the catalyst?

OMG I RRRRR I LOVED DRAWING 4 THIS ONE OKAY SO. with the au, zack will reach a breaking point with the way he's handling his emotions by blocking them off/bottling them up. It's inevitable. The question of what/who is the catalyst and not when or if it happens hehehe AND IM SO EXCITED TO ANSWER. Through out the au story, zack is stuck in this sorta mentality.

he's so reliant on Cloud being okay, that he can't focus on anything else (for reasons i can discuss another time). My instinctive reaction, it to think that Cloud waking up would give him enough emotional relief to let down some of those walls. But, then I thought that if Zack bases his emotional wellbeing so heavily on cloud...

then theres not going to be a point where Cloud is suddenly 'okay' enough in Zacks brain to let it out. Life has its ups and downs, recovery from physical/mental trauma like cloud went through especially has its ups and downs. Theres always going to be some excuse for Zack to close up even further, particularly since he chooses to be in a caretaker role for Clouds early recovery when he needs it.

So then my mind hopped over to Tifa and Barret, his two closest friends in this au. But I thought that also could only go so far, Zack wants to appear strong for the people he cares for, and in his mind, he's somehow 'tricked' Barret and Tifa into thinking he's stable and tough enough to be their friend, he doesn't want to risk suddenly being too much. (IMPOSTER SYNDROME GANG RISE UP) And since Zack is so numb to violence and battle, I think it'd take a lot to push him out of that even in physically violent scenarios (u could still try though. whump writers i am on ur side 4ever) And not only that, but Tifa and Barret have only known Zack as he is now. They know that he's definitely a bit weird, but they don't know how far that goes, as this is the only version of Zack they've ever met.

BUT HE OBVIOUSLY will still have his own explosion. It's necessary, it's inevitable. Just look at that guy. So I thought, who else?

and who else could it be if not her?

#...After she gets to yell at him a bit for disappearing on her ofc #zack lives au #zack fair #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #barret wallace #aerith gainsborough fanart #zerith #zack x aerith #zack x cloud #IM OBSESSED WITH ZERITH GUYS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #zack cloud aerith tifa polycule guys listen to me guys im going crazy guys i #ffvii #final fantasy crisis core #idk if its a breaking point as much as it is a tipping point. emotional catharsis.#Aerith saying he looks nice. Aerith loved him as he once was and still sees the puppy zack in him.#you can kill your past self but he's still in there and you're still loved for being you like you were for being him. do u get it #i havent stopped thinking abt him for three days

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alexa-fika · 3 months

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hey, so I saw that you know about genshin so can you do a Klee Inspired child!reader with the straw hat lpirates? i just feel.it would be very funny cuz she is quite littary a Terrorist in discise.

Bombs Beware ( Ussop x sibling!child!reader)

A/N DO I KNOW ABOUT IT?! LET ME TELL YOU Im obsessed with it and the lore, kazuha my beloved 🥰, actually anemo boys my beloved, my friend plays it and we talk about it all the time (but I just watch it XD) . Klee is a terrorist, through and trough no question about it, she aint even hiding it either, girl has Albedo stressed, remember him stressing in that one event? Also kind of short and not really an extreme cook, mid cook? What do you guys think?

Dividers by @/saradika

Ussop's head shoots up as a weight is dropped on his lap as he tinkers and works on his gadgets, looking up to see an irked Zoro.”

“They were setting stuff off again; keep an eye on them,” he grumbles, walking away to continue his nap

Ussop looks down with an unimpressed look on his face as he stares at his giggling young sibling

“Spark Pirate Reader reporting for duty! I forgot the rest of my introduction so im going with just that” they exclaimed happily

“Gee, din’t have to add that last part, What did you do this time?”

“I was playing with your Sakuretsu Saboten Boshi; I love having them go boom!”

Usopp sighs

"Din’t we give you a set of rules anyway?

“Mmhm, Explosions inside the Sunny can sink us and cause us woe, Explosions can hurt people, Nami can be dreadful, Sunny be bombed, reader be sunked,” they recited

“Those are the rules the straw hats gave me.”

"Don’t touch stuff that isn’t yours," he says in a stern voice

"And don’t make them go boom. They’re not toys. They’re meant to be used as weapons. And If you know the rules, Then you know you are only supposed to use them outside and when we are not too close and just for self-defense, right?”

“But I would have to wait so loong,” they whine

He shakes his eyes at his siblings whines

“You only need to wait till the next island. That can’t be so hard,” he replies

“All that time without any booms?”

"Yes, all that time without booms,” he says, exasperated

Ussop takes one of his tools out of the pocket attached to his belt and taps it on the Reader’s head

"Besides, your explosives won’t work under the water."

“Hehehe, Lucky Reader’s bombs are waterproof.”

Ussop stares at her, extending his hand

“Why??”

“Because I’m taking them away.”

They grumble as they hesitantly place the bombs in their brother’s hands

"Remember what I said: no playing inside or even outside with them unless I say so."

“Please! I‘ll make sure the explosions blow away from you!”

"T-That’s not the issue here!”Ussop sputters

“Then Reader can use them?”

“No! We already agreed on how you’re allowed to play with them, and now you’re trying to push your luck."

“Come on! Dad said you should take care of me, which technically means im in charge!”

Usopp scoffs

"Where did you get that idea?" he asks

"Besides, I am taking care of you; that’s why im taking these back for now."

“Boohoo”

"You such an immature kid." He said rolling his eyes glancing down to his gadgets and concentrating on the task at hand

“You’re a weird adult!”

If you are a avid player you may be able to spot the different voice-lines I wrote along the piece, I did quite a lot, quite proud how I managed to integrate them to the One piece context 🫦

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x child!reader #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #ussop #ussop x child!reader #ussop one piece #god ussop #op ussop #ussop x reader #ussopp #genshin klee

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tangledinink · 11 months

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If you want to answer, I have some questions for the footsquad au bc it seems so cool.

Is there any romance?

Will we get to see splinter in this au?

Do the boys still love Lou jitsu?(bc Cassandra was oblivious but foot lieutenants knew his movies)And do the boys retain any of their old interests.

And are they all the same ranking within the foot? Bc the show made some jokes about the hierarchy and one of the positions was like toe or something lmao. So I’m curious if any outrank each other or Cassandra or even where April falls!

April was kind of a sister to the turtles in the series. Is it still like that or has the dynamic shifted or changed in some way?

I feel like this is a lot but I just really like the idea of this au. Hope you have a good day!

Ah yes!!! I would!!! Love to!!! I love talking about my AU's hehehe.

Is there any romance?

Perhaps.

Will we get to see Splinter in this AU?

We absolutely will! He plays a fairly significant role! He currently lives alone and as inconspicuously as possible in the Hidden City. He has no idea that any of his sons survived the lab explosion that mutated him, but he may or may not end up running into someone at some point who happens to be familiar with them...

Do the boys still love Lou Jitsu? Do they retain their old interests?

Absolutely! Punch Chowder is their collective favorite. They have had many movie nights with Lt. and Brute in the past and probably will continue to do so in the future! Casey doesn't really get their obsession (they're good, but not that good,) but has watched all the movies with them anyway. The boys do have a lot of the same interests! But... slightly to the left? Mikey still loves art and graffiti-- New York is littered with the Foot Clan's symbol, which doubles as his tag. Raph still loves wrestling, and he usually gets his fix by visiting the Battle Nexus to watch competitors tear each other limb from limbety-limb. Donnie still loves tech and science, though with a lot more mystic elements mixed in. And the Foot Clan doesn't mind if he makes bombs! They even encourage it! :)

Are they all the same rank in the Foot?

More or less! They're all still young and relatively low ranking amongst the organization. Casey is the 'leader' and is considered in charge of the rest of them, but that basically went kind of like this:

If you were to organize them by rank, it'd go Casey -> Raph -> Everyone Else, with most of the rest of the clan above them, save for other, newer recruits. That being said, the turtles sort of hold a special, unofficial 'rank' given that they've been with the clan since infancy, and this unspoken status also extends to Casey and April (to an extent) by association.

April was kind of a sister to the turtles in the series. Is it still like that or has the dynamic shifted or changed in some way?

Kind of! They're all definitely still super close, but they met April much later in life than they did in canon. April also had to go through a huge adjustment period when she ran away from home and joined the Clan (duh) which led to their relationship being a tiny bit volatile/strained for a period of time until she settled in. (April also ended up growing very close with Casey during this time. The brothers have been with the Foot for basically their entire lives; this has always been their world. But Casey remembers when she first joined the Clan. She had to adjust, too.) They all definitely consider her their best friend and would do just about anything for her. And if you asked the boys if they have a sister, they'd still say yes-- and then they'd point you towards Casey.

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asukaskerian · 28 days

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Battlefield Terra is one of those works that just...changed my brain chemistry for so many reasons. I still go back and read it and think about it. This isnt an ask to return to it (though wouldn't be upset) but just to like thank you for putting the amount of it that you did out there

.__. *squish squish* thank you.

i cannot REMEMBER for the life of me if i ever posted any of the scene bits i had written in the chapter i never completed. first scene is actually one i love a lot, but then the battle scene was overtly complex and too long and had required so many rewrites and nothing worked. hghghhg.

but. anyway. this is the scene with the fallout from the "oh shit i kissed the alien am I GAY after all?????? oh fucking hell why did i notice JUST AT THE SAME TIME AS I NOTICE HOW MUCH HE'S NEVER GONNA *DECIDE NOT TO GO HOME* vfbndjh gnx;"

"And this is why it never pays to be stingy with technology," Jane said philosophically from the bucket seat next to John.

Strapped in like a sausage in its skin, John still managed to turn his helmet and grin at his sister. "Aw, come on, you didn't want the industry to cut into its profit margin, did you."

In the corner of his -- of all the pilots' -- glasses was an explosion of Spanish and Chinese sentences, nonsensical words, and Roxy-worthy typos.

The industry thing was mostly a joke; the think-typing-thoughts interface had first been developed for quadriplegics and amputees, and outside of hardcore nerds and professionals whose job required they be able to code very fast, people still preferred using their actual hands. One good reason for it: at the level of miniaturization necessary to put the brain sensors into glasses, it was new enough to still be expensive.

The new communication hub was a complete mess of hundreds of people trying it on for the first time, and it was hilarious.

"--Wow, hey, I know what that guy is doing! Oh my god, it's excellent, he's trying to think in sign language." Roxy giggled, tried to kick her feet only they were also strapped in. The craft was still accelerating, after all. Bleh. "Only then he has to transcribe into English, and he's doing it super literally! Hehehe."

Jane perked up a little. "Huh! No wonder the grammar was odd."

ID28YB: holy shit were all guna die in space aaaa

ID28YB: on the upside italics!

ID17NC: fuck how do you backspace backspacebacmlnpi

ID13JA: SARGANT MY CAPCLOSK IS FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ID01JA: Like shit it is, PrivatE.

ID01JA: DamN.

ID98NZ: fifty Nine bottles of beer ON THE WALL, take one DOWN pass itaround FIftynIneBOTTLES on Thewall!!!!!

"I'll be so glad when they lock it down to emergency communications again," Jade said from John's other side, and sighed.

"At least the bosses forbid them to use colors," John said, trying for consoling. (He kind of failed, mostly because he was snickering.)

Jake chuckled from his seat at the end of the line, on Jade's other side, but didn't add anything. He hadn't really been talking much ever since they took off, and since they couldn't lean out of their seats it was really hard to see what face he was making. John wondered if he was worried about --

Of course he was worried. And if John thought about all the reasons why, he was going to start to fret too. His stomach was already in a knot behind the adrenaline grin, no need to double down on it.

"Hey Jake," he threw out, with no idea what kind of light-conversation topic he was going to pull out. "D'you think--"

"Say, chaps, I think I feel lighter!" Jake interrupted.

"Huh, yeah, maybe?" John tried to bounce his leg and wasn't sure if there was a difference yet. It was hard to feel the lessening weight of his body when it was such a knot of anticipation already, and when he couldn't move. "Wow. Are we reaching cruising speed already? There was no announcement--"

The door opened and Corporal Vantas stepped through.

(Not Karkat. There was a difference.)

"Woohoo, you clean up nice!" Roxy said with a whistle as he stalked closer in his alien boots and his space-black flight suit, head bare but for the jarringly pink headset nestled against his horns. John noticed all over again that his skin was slate gray, that his eyes were violently red and yellow.

That he moved through the heavy gravity of the rocket's push like it wasn't even there, when John himself -- at least at first -- would have wobbled.

"What mean -- no, I don't care."

He sat beside Jake in the free seat at the end that should have gone to Dirk, and disappeared from John's view, what with the helmets and the protruding edges of the bucket seats. John swallowed and put a smile on his face, even though no one was going to see him. For a second he had thought Karkat was coming toward him. Haha, silly.

"No more talk with the Generals, Karkat?" Jane asked, tone forcefully light.

"Mm. No."

"Talk with us now? Do you have anything important to say or just hanging out?"

John's eyes flitted over the logs on his glasses, the higher ranks starting to organize to separate the chatter by platoons. It was still mostly banter and bad jokes.

"...Hanging out? Yes. Hanging out. Here, not... other here. I'm Corporal not General, it's not fucking right I'm with them."

It was the exact same tone the Marines John knew used when they got offended when their chain of command got dumbass ideas. Heh.

Maybe a little hesitation. Maybe just the translation issues.

JH: haha, you guys *wish* you could type in colors!

ID28YB: if by colors u mean rainbow fruity goodness then sure :(

ID28YB: i wanted mauve goddamn!!

JH: maybe better that you can't have it, echidna would have had to cut you. :'(

(Urgh. He missed Rose. He wished she were well enough to fight with them today.)

Jade joined the conversation, asked Karkat about... John wasn't listening. What the politicos had told him, when he was alone with them without a translator. Stuff. Boring stuff.

Karkat's low, gravelly voice kept slipping into his ears no matter how hard he tried not to pay attention to the words. ("You talk I fall on you a lot. Maybe you want --")

Anyway when the loudspeaker in the wall started talking he was pretty glad.

"Attention troops, cruise speed has been reached. Stay seated until your immediate superior allows you to stand..."

Two clicks echoed around him, Jade and Roxy undoing their security harnesses in unison.

"Oh my god, I'm so stiff," Jade groaned. "I'm going to check on Remington, anyone wanna come with?"

"You sit still for longer stretches of time in battle," Jane pointed out as she freed herself in turn, as Jake was still fighting his clasps.

"In battle my seat is perfectly adapted to my butt!"

The girls started to file out, talking about butts, and John almost heard Dave mentioning butt massages, almost mentioned it himself but. No. That would have been wrong even if two thirds of the lot weren't family.

He thought of following them. He would just skip along, snicker and stretch his legs and tease the Marines and...

"See you guys later," he said instead, waving without looking, heart a pulsating knot in his throat. "Karkat and I have to practice the telepathy-typing thing. Well, mostly me."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, listened to the tread of boots on the hard plastic floor.

He didn't need to look in order to know which one of them was Karkat, getting up and moving one seat down the line.

Leaving one seat empty between them. Huh. John wasn't sure how to take that one.

"Huhn. You want telepathy now?"

John winced to himself. "It's pretty much now or in the middle of battle, isn't it?"

A beat of silence, and then Karkat grunted an acknowledgement. "Mm."

"Mm," John agreed, and kept on not making a move toward his own headset. Karkat's was already in place, possibly already turned on. John just had to tap.

"Maybe we speak and then headsets," Karkat suggested.

"... Yeah, maybe that."

John made a superfluous noise of agreement, and then groaned and pushed his helmet off his head, tucked it between his feet. He took his gloves off next, dropped them inside the helmet, and then buried both hands in his hair to scratch and rub with vigorous frustration. It did not soothe him as much as he had hoped for.

"This is the worst timing," he groaned, muffled, as he curled forward until he could prop his elbows on his thighs and lace his fingers behind his head. His spine cracked.

The worst timing, and the worst thing. He wasn't sure he'd have taken it much better elsewhere, with more time to take care of the fallout. It sucked. His head was a mess just when he absolutely needed to be as perfectly in the zone as he had ever been in his entire life.

"I'm sorry," Karkat said quietly. "We do big things today. I was stupid. Even if you said oh yes good, kissing! it's other things in our head and we can't have other things in our head now. I didn't do the good thing."

John groaned quietly, face prickling with heat, and closed his eyes. "No, it's... Yeah. Yeah, okay, that wasn't -- the right time. But you... You were right. I was looking."

He hadn't managed to stop looking even once since he'd seen Karkat naked, coming out of his slime. Maybe he had even been looking before that, playing it off as fascination with Karkat's alienness. Kind of like 'haha no I just like looking at his horns because they're weird, so random amirite!' only with everything else on top of the horns, like his little bitey teeth on goth-black lips and his bare toes and the fit of his goddamn dress suit at the summit--

"So why--" Karkat fell silent, drew in a breath, and then released it in a long, hissing sigh and muttered under his breath in alienese. John couldn't even offer a guess from the tone this time around.

Why did you kiss back, he could have been asking. Why did you stop kissing. Why did you never make a move. Why did you make a move now. Why are you such an idiotic mess.

Answer was the same for all of them, anyway. "I don't know."

"Why do you not know that?!" Karkat shot back -- more incredulous than angry, but John winced anyway. "How you look at a people and don't know, and other people tell you 'yes, them' and you say 'haha, no' and you're wrong?"

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped as he threw himself back into his chair, his arms coming up to cross tight against his ribs. Even now he couldn't look toward Karkat at all, shoulders curled in and away from the other man. His stomach felt like someone was squeezing it with both hands; his face still prickled with mortification. It was awful, he wanted to get up and run just to get moving, stop having to think on it -- leave the feeling behind -- but he knew better than to think it would work. He knew better and he still wanted to try, flinching and too tense; what a shit condition for battle. Fuck. "I know, okay? I'm the most stupid jerk--"

Karkat's hand was hot even through the glove.

He tugged on John's elbow, lightly, squeezed a little.

"Zhann."

"... Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, sounding tired, and his hand fell from John's arm. "It's shit words."

John sneaked him a look; Karkat wasn't looking directly at John either, mouth pinched in discomfort, eyes dim somehow.

"Is it I'm alien and it's gross? So you don't in your head because ... haha, gross, can't be true--"

"No!" John spluttered, turning in his seat as much as he could to face him. "No, no, you being an alien is -- it is weird, but it's not bad, it's just not normal. It's... You're a guy?"

Karkat looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Huhn?"

God. It figured. For all the joking about Karkat being gay that John had been doing like an asshole, he'd mentioned an old girlfriend too, and the cat girl who liked him that he didn't want to lead on, and it had never felt like she was disqualified because of boobs.

Also -- ugh, thanks Dirk and his casual beach gossipping -- Karkat thought Jade's butt was nice, and so was Mr. Strider's. So. Bisexual.

The way he looked now, baffled and not liking it, it was a little like he had never heard of someone who wasn't. Oh boy. What a mess. John raked a hand through his hair, tried to get back into explaining mode.

"It's -- we're mammals, remember? We need a boy and a girl to. To make little humans. That means normally we don't want other males, or other females, because -- there can be no babies? So a boy doesn't have a boyfriend, he has a girlfriend, and... The other way around, too. Boy and girl, yes, boy and boy no?"

"... Huhn."

"I mean. Some men like men! Dirk and Mr. Strider like men. But they knew it pretty early on. They knew when they were kids -- when they were small? -- that they were like that. And I've never." He swallowed. "I've never. Thought about a guy. Like that."

"Oh."

"And it's really weird." He gave a twitch of a shrug, looked away. "... And I don't know if it's because of the telepathy."

"Oh," Karkat said again, but this time he sounded stricken, not baffled.

John dropped a hand on Karkat's forearm across the empty seat, patted awkwardly -- wanted to squeeze or hold his wrist (or hold his hand) but that was just -- even such a short touch made his stomach twist with odd queasiness, his face flush back to maximum redness. "It's okay, buddy. I don't -- it's just. ... Don't feel bad, okay, that's stupid, I just -- it is weird, but --"

Karkat's breastbone beeped. Scowling down, he fished his tablet out of his collar, unrolled it, shook it stiff. Oh. Little countdown shown in rows of dots, going one by one from red to dark.

Five seconds to a dot, fifteen dots to a row, and how many rows... Hm. Ten minutes left before... John wasn't sure. They weren't going to be there yet in ten minutes.

"My mech. Gotta wake up, it's slow." Karkat waved a brisk hand, eyebrows furled in worry.

John closed his eyes. "Do you want to practice the mind-typing?"

"It's not want," Karkat grunted, slanting him a look. "... It's going to be bad."

"Mm."

"We need bigger time, not this," he added, tapping the tablet with the outside curve of a claw.

John tried out a dry shrug, and thought to himself that he really didn't enjoy it, that 'if you fuck this up you will have fucked everything up' feeling. Dread was for the battlefield, not for stupid interpersonal relationships.

"Probably. We can keep working on it once we're in our mechs, too..."

Karkat snorted, replied something in alienese that had to be 'We had better.'

Yeah, okay. John just had to put his helmet back on.

"We don't have time for this crap!" he growled -- whined, if he wanted to be fair, something strangled and pleading, frustrated.

"Mnh."

John curled forward, hands cupping his temples, elbows on his knees. "Damn it. I don't -- I can't -- in ten minutes, that's too--"

There was no way he was going to be able to stop thinking about all the things he didn't want to think about, all the things -- the petty, selfish things -- he didn't want Karkat to know about.

Like the incontrovertible fact that no matter what John figured out he wanted, whatever compromises they found with each other, there was no magic button that would make Karkat stay.

He'd been in Karkat's head too much to imagine for one second he would weigh out John and the dubious safety Earth offered him against his people -- his people abused and thrown out like shark bait to be mowed down by enemies and superiors alike -- and choose John.

John was pretty sure Karkat wouldn't even choose Gamzee.

"Do you want sex."

John flinched around and back so fast he hit his shoulder blade against one of the edges of the seat.

Karkat was looking back at him -- steady, John thought at first, but his lower eyelids were tight, his cheeks just a little dusky. The heat on John's face cooled down just barely at that.

"I ask so it's not more alien bullshit thing. It's what you want?"

"Oh my god," John protested, looking around wildly in case anyone had managed to open the sealing doors to the small room without the hiss of pneumatics warning them. "I don't know! I'm not -- I swear I'm not lying, I don't -- this is freaking me out."

"I see that, dumbass," Karkat said, but almost nicely. "You're so bad in your head, I don't know you can get that much a clusterfuck."

John groaned, slumped forward again.

"... Mouth thing, was good?"

"... Yeah."

"Touching?"

John gave a little grunt, eyes closed.

"Want where?"

"Why do you need to know?!"

There was a moment of silence like Karkat rolling his eyes, or maybe just watching him, waiting. John didn't check.

"Zhann."

"... Horns? Maybe your hands. I kind of. Want to see your claws. We could sit close? We could--" He choked. His face prickled so hot it almost hurt. He wanted to touch Karkat's face, follow his nose with a fingertip -- he wanted Karkat to allow that, the trust and closeness it would mean.

"That's where?" Karkat grumbled, gave John a frustrated look. John tore his eyes away, ducked his head. Where had he -- when they had kissed (his mouth tingled like an echo) -- when Karkat was so close, almost on his lap, what had he --

"Your thighs," he whispered, dizzy with nerves and shame. "Inside." He clenched his knees together, hands knotted between them -- oh, Karkat's legs clamped down on his hand, all warm and snug. Muscles bunching, straining. So close to his -- his. Oh shit, John couldn't pop a boner inside his flight suit, not while Karkat was watching, while they were hashing out how much of a total clusterfuck this was going to be.

There was silence for too long -- three seconds, ten, every single one tightening his shoulders, knotting his guts worse, nausea and heat mingling dizzyingly.

"... Put your head thing on, Zhann."

John groaned out loud. "Are you kidding me, I will die. I don't want you to -- there's too much, it's. We can't!"

But when he glanced at the tablet still across Karkat's lap they were down to the last two rows of dots and it was now or never. More accurately, now or on the battlefield when they were supposed to coordinate two forces that had never fought together against ... however many of those aliens who wouldn't have followed some random high-ranked asshole from nowhere into open rebellion.

He shoved the helmet down before he could think about it twice. It felt too tight, like he was going to strangle, to be crushed.

Karkat felt too close; an empty seat between them and John still remembered him in Excalibur's cockpit, how easy it would have been to slip on his lap and kiss and--

(Yeah okay definitely sexual there) flitted through his mind from Karkat, alongside ... surprise, oh wow, so violent, stop feeling, not the end of the world --

John flashed back to his previous thought -- sitting next to each other and his hand trapped between strong thighs and oh shit he was getting hard, no, no --

(hand pushing higher) echoed back briefly, edged with curiosity, a spark of -- Karkat shook his head, slapped his own hands down onto his knees, hard enough to sting. John startled. "Okay!" Karkat said, staring straight ahead.

He was maybe smiling a little.

Okay yes we need to talk later I don't fuck and run (do you?)

John spluttered. "How would I know!" I've never/and run where anyway we're on an island!

Take your mech, zip off? (laughter) (mister space pilot, so locked in.) Wait, never? How old-- oh right no one around only older adults and your tangleclan/friends and you can't with half of them because blah blah mammals (and not boys? Why not boys. Aliens what the fuck.)

John groaned again, hands on his helmet since he couldn't get to his face. Could have Rose or Roxy! Roxy was my first kiss! (haha sloppy-alright-nice but I saw you fingers up your nose too much as a kid sorry John I like you tender-nice but it all fizzed out) and Rose kissed me on a dare and it was like kissing Jane it was horrible.

And that was the entire fucking extent of your romantic and sexual experience oh my dear little dark gods that's pitiful. (sharp/teal/lovely-blade moaning over me (tight-soft-deep) other hurried hands in dark corners--) shit sorry--

Oh. Of course Karkat had had sex before. Of course he would know more, of course John was hopelessly late and useless -- he couldn't even bring himself to think about, about kissing, never mind what happened later, he was a kid--

The tablet beeped.

"Shit," Karkat said in English, and another few words that echoed as bounce me around on a bladed dildo. Which, yeowch. He turned to stare at John, already half out of his seat and leaning forward, a claw-tipped hand clenched on the armrest. "(I gotta get going now. John, do you--)"

He was leaning forward like he was about to kiss John, if John hadn't been wearing a helmet, and John knew full well that wasn't at all what he'd been doing, knew because he was in Karkat's brain, and still couldn't help but fear-hope for it.

(I'll kiss you if we win) flashed between them, too fast to hold back. No wait sorry (god it'd feel nice) we have to talk first and -- not now, cannot be now.

John laughed, mostly from nerves. I'll come with you (sit in cockpit think tappy thoughts oh my god they'll love transcripts of your foul mouth be hilarious what if I accidentally transcribe the sex thoughts too oh no oh no--)

Karkat's hand caught his wrist.

"(Do you trust me,)" he said low and intense, in an alienese that John almost didn't notice as not English from how strong the mind-echo was.

The response came embarrassingly instantaneous. "Of course I --" He swallowed. What do you want me to do?

Okay. (You are ridiculous) (thank you.)

Karkat crinkled his golden-red eyes at John and for the first time John realized he doesn't mind how I feel.

Crushes happen, Karkat replied almost casually, with a little pleased-flattered-glad trill running underneath. Crushes happen to me in particular all the damn time so I have no stones to throw. (I know this one is worse, tangled-odd with headsets but it was kind of predictable too especially because of the headsets.)

A harsh beep.

No more time. Follow me?

Follow you where, John wondered, and then Karkat showed him.

His mind nudged closer. Body alive with battle arousal, heart thumping too fast, just barely shaky in his body and he need-wanted John's cheerful-calm interest, his certainty. They should absolutely not kiss before the battle because he would cling and waste time hoping for time to stop instead and also they really needed to hash that shit out but oh, so smug that he'd been right all along. His face winced briefly at whatever echo John sent back, and then he --

(Terrifying/not right/I will never manage alone.)

John's gorge rose. (can't let that happen/you're not alone (I'm not alone either can't be please god--)

(Good,) rang like a bell between them, and then Karkat's direct, almost forceful Dive(/echo/merge) with me.

John's hands closed tight enough on the armrests that the hard plastic cracked under his fingertips at the thought, visualized like two discordant graphs slowly entering resonance, like rebounding, endless echoes -- the pattering, muted thunder of armies in lockstep. But -- but too close so many things I can't share, how?! Can't sync if we're like this I'm mortified (want to die/hide/wash it out of my brain) you're -- you're --

I want to fight. (Scared to fight.) I need to fight. Silly flurry of thoughts -- bothersome, I have them too (misjudged when to tell people about psychics, misjudged you, (this is not a romcom where you are the heroine what the fuck Vantas,) could have endangered/maybe did endanger the operation twice) we can sync on that! (would be bad). Or we can sync on --

Mechs. Piloting.

Winning the goddamn battle.

We had better not think of beds, John sent Karkat, smile shaking on his face. Karkat snorted back, crooking him a smile.

They bumped foreheads -- or forehead and helmet -- and straightened up, because it was time to go.

They stood (John stood) and walked to the door, one-two, one-two. (Easier if we walk in sync, they agreed, and wondered if it would also work mirrored. But they would experiment later, John, now where was the hangar?)

It was… odd, not quite seamless, little twitches of individual thoughts -- not like last time, at the conference.

It was easier when a Marine came across them -- Sergeant, look at the shoulder bars -- and said, "I was assigned to escort, uh, you, Corporal Vantas..."

"We're coming," they assured her with two mouths (unnecessary) (but which is it again.) "How long do we have left?"

"Four minutes," she said, carefully expressionless in her bulking power armor, the helmet politely open still as she placed herself opposite from the claws side.

Can you blame her though? haha.

It's not like I didn't help patch those weaknesses.

How'd you even find -- oh, yeah.

Of course horn sense would perceive the electricity field where crucial wires ran, the way a solid plate trembled under a headbutt at the weaker places, of course Karkat's terror would crank his pitiful amount of sensitivity up higher and the luck of frenetic, half-blind panic do the rest.

The upgraded armor would be a little harder but they had the brute strength to punch through and the claws to tear wiring free. Should be easy -- but the Marines weren't the enemy. Strong-respectful-friendly-safe. Distant-confused too (we're too young for how much weight/responsibility we carry) but nice, mostly.

The bay where they were keeping (dad) the mech was empty, if well-guarded; the Marines had taken the warning that the biomechs sometimes ate people to heart, it seemed. Which was hilarious, because (dad) was way too tired to lunge and chomp, which... wasn't funny at all, actually. (When they won, the first thing they'd do would be to put him to a feeding/repairs station.)

They scaled the black-shelled side of the mech, pushing and pulling each body from handhold to foothold -- chinks in the shell, the edge of a plate. (They avoided the gaping cavity of its ripped-away manipulating-arm, no matter how convenient it would have been for a step-up.) The edge of the cockpit opening was cracked open like a wound, ready to be pushed through -- convenient but loose because dad was tired; worrying but nothing to be done for now -- thank god they'd gotten the flight suit back because those weird cotton clothes were a clinging, heavy pain when soaked through with neural gel...

Oh right. John's flight suit might not react quite well to the neural fluid now that dad-mech knew it. What if it dissolved? Haha, naked in the cockpit. Or more like half-naked with strategically placed, slowly widening holes, talk about a porn flick setting. Didn't help that the dissolving/digesting gels used to clean dirt and dead skin cells might also trigger if Dad felt contrary enough and also eat through yeah okay, that was an unsexy thought. John/Karkat crouched, one body on the solid edge, one across the cracked-open plates, and then sinking, eyes closed.

It was the perfect temperature inside, but that never made that first deep breath of gel any easier. He breathed air deeper with the body still outside, like the unencumbered-lungs feeling could help (it helped, even though oxygen wasn't going to come through telepathically. Bodies were stupidly easy to trick.) and settled inside within the nest of coils, seeking out the one that went -- ow, yeah, there, in the flight suit slot at the base of his neck, between the vertebrae.

Wake up, he thought at it, through the neural gel and through the spinal tap, letting it feel his nerve impulses so they could sync more thoroughly. Wake up, (flight systems, weapon arms, no more standby) there's a battle coming.

Once the process was started it was a matter of waiting until it was sufficiently awake (and burning through the last of its energy.) The Karkat body wiggled into place, let the other tentacles slot into their ports to read his every muscle twitch, so the mech would be ready to move before he even thought it coherently enough to decide exactly what movement he wanted, and then settled down.

It was easier to keep in sync if they weren't both doing different things. The John body waited until the other one was at rest and then stood up, let himself slide along rib covers until gravity flung him off entirely, still pretty high over the ground; he landed in a perfectly timed crouch, laughing a little in admiration (Gods of the Devouring-dark but this body was convenient) and walked out of the hangar.

The Marines at the door didn't look at him like a stranger-threat or even a superior-officer-threat, more like a low-caste soldier might look at a beloved high-blue who cared-possessive for them (still dangerous in the abstract, never quite controllable, but theirs.) It was so strange, so normal.

"Is Corporal Vantas going to stay inside his mech?" the sergeant asked him, falling into step.

"Yes, Sergeant," he assured her soberly. "Until we go."

They weren't sure why that got them a weird look, but it was probably nothing to fret about. The metal mechs' bay door was just there -- similarly guarded but they let John/Karkat pass without a word; one of them nodded at him, fierce and grim-eyed. He nodded back the same way, and then -- oh -- worried that it might worry them, because John usually joked before a battle and soldiers didn't like things to be different. Bad luck. But by then they were at the lift and it was a bit too late to fret about the mental state of grunts.

They opened the cockpit and walked in, swung around to sit. The butt-hollow still felt wrong.

So many buttons and toggles and it was a wonder John never got them wrong regarding which did what. (Heh.)

The arm-rest where Karkat had sat ... for a moment John-alone was sent reeling, buzzing, experiencing it from the other side -- the tingle of excitement-certainty, that wordless moment when you finally knew the other person was interested, had been flirting back, the pleasure-relief of feeling wanted and known. So touching-surprising-soft to find John so far from cocky carelessness, from being sure of Karkat.

It was sweet, Karkat felt. John stared at the screens he was bringing to life and read the words he knew by heart like they might have changed somehow, tried to think war thoughts.

Weapons check, Karkat thought, tinged with apology-for-the-distraction, tinged with fondness/you-are-sweet.

John went through a weapons check.

They'd left him Excalibur's usual monofilament swords, breakable as they were -- one-hit kills was more Dave's thing than John's -- but he had his hammer too, and the more usual set of bombs and missiles.

Also two EMP bombs. He thought back to Karkat shying away from the microwave and the difference in yield and --

Yeowch vicious yeah that'll work. Not through the home-ship hull (gotta shield from star radiations) but it'll work. How come no one generals-making-plans told me we had that -- wait fuck I'm stupid of course no one would tell me when they were still considering using it on me. It'll work on the biomechs and probably the troop transports but I don't know about the range.

Excal's got good radiation shields, so we can get pretty close and make sure of the kill, John reminded him, and then Karkat reminded him they weren't supposed to wade in, just watch-coordinate from the back.

Like that'll last, they both thought, so closely that maybe neither one had thought it first, that they'd just both had the exact same amused-despairing reaction.

They went through the flight check in comfortable, whispering quiet.

#battlefield terra #asuka writes #this dates from 2017 sobs #homestuck #jonhkat

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