Write Bad Fanfic. Write Mediocre Fanfic. Write Fanfic That A Thousand People Before You Have Already

I just realized that many many people have jobs

Rb with your job, wtf do you people do while offline???

Some soft and afkdjjs Dewther for @miasmaghoul ♥♥♥

Mushy May, Day 5 (Animals) - Menagerie of the Damned

Inspired by Mushy May prompts by the fab @forlorn-crows. I'm a day late with this one but I'm a good Satanist and never follow the rules anyway...Also on my Ao3!

If you've ever been told it's "just a pet", Papa Primo has your back!

***

He had been sitting forlornly on the hard, wooden bench since the meeting ended. He should move really. His ass had gone distinctly numb and such a public display of weakness wasn’t fitting for someone who was about to become the figurehead of the global Satanic Clergy. He knew he must look a sight, his face blotchy and as red as his scarlet cassock. And yet his grief kept him here, weighed down like a stone in the stream of busy people moving along the corridor.

“We must say goodbye and I do not think I know how to, little one,” Copiah sniffed, wiping away a stray tear with the end of his fascia and absently scratching between the ears of the nut-brown rat in his lap.

He knew Sister Imperator was right of course. The logistics of the tour would be complicated enough without having to factor in transporting Eliza with them; the hotels and tour buses they must use would see her as vermin, not as the beloved pet she was. And she was getting old, it wouldn’t really be fair on her.

The bench shifting next to him roused him from his musings, making him startle until he looked, bleary-eyed, into the kind face of his oldest brother, Primo.

“I never did care much for this hallway,” the retired Papa groaned as he stretched out his legs in front of him. “Too drafty. Which is probably not good for the little one, eh?” He held his hand out towards the rat, who cautiously climbed into his and regarded him with twitching whiskers.

“I don’t know that there is any place good for her anymore. I must find her a new home but…who will want her? She is not so young anymore…Who can I trust to take care of her?” Copia replied, attempting to disguise the way his voice cracked by clearing his throat. “Sorry, I…I am being silly.”

Primo nodded thoughtfully as he stroked the rat with a single finger. Eventually, he placed the creature on Copia’s shoulder and heaved himself to his feet with a huff. “I may have a solution. Come.”

The older man had started to head off down the corridor before Copia had a chance to ask a question or compose his tear-stained state. Sure, now he can be sprightly he grumbled to himself, struggling to catch him up down the corridor.

They walked through the endless, labyrinthine corridors until Primo led them out into the gardens, past the greenhouses where Copia assumed the man spent most of his retirement. He hadn’t seen this dark, tucked-away section of the grounds before though. When they reached a gate set into some tall hedges, he gave Eliza a fond pat to soothe himself as much as to reassure her, and finally interrupted his brother’s contented humming. It sounded suspiciously like All Things Bright and Beautiful. “Where are we going?”

Primo beamed as he opened the gate and waved for Copia to enter.

His eyes widened as he gazed at the scene before him. A huge circular space; a stunning meadow flower bed at the centre and outlined by ornate aviaries filled with plants and shrubs. The roof of each structure was the green hue of oxidised copper and reminded Copia of the gothic bandstands he’d seen in older parks. They even had the pre-requisite spooky ravens and crows scattered around their wrought gables. Some had open mesh walls while others were enclosed by glass or blacked out entirely.

“I do not know when this structure was first built. Probably back when collecting animals was fashionable. Humans have always sought animals – especially birds – a symbol of status. Of power,” Primo hummed as he started to walk a lazy circuit, stopping to peer in at the two barn owls perched in a distant corner of the first aviary. Copia placed a protective hand over Eliza, but the birds merely ruffled their feathers sleepily and resumed their daytime slumber. “I restored this place, but like our Abbey, I aimed to offer sanctuary to all who needed it. Especially those who’ve been harmed by our ridiculous superstitions.”  

“So, it’s like a menagerie of the damned?” Copia murmured, walking further along and taking in more owls, ravens and a raptor didn’t recognise. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he caught the amber gaze of a fox before it darted into the greenery.

His older brother chuckled. “You could say that I suppose. We leave the hatches open to allow the birds and bats to fly free. I think you’ll be more interested in what’s at the other end though,” he nodded for him to follow towards the enclosed area on the other side of the circle.

The balmy warmth hit them the moment the door opened. A Sister of Sin looked up and smiled, apparently in the middle of cleaning out a huge stack of cages where a dozen or so mice happily scampered about. “Sister Frances,” he nodded kindly.

After sitting subdued on his shoulder, Eliza suddenly perked up and began chittering loudly in Copia’s ear. He soon saw why. At the other side of the former aviary was a huge enclosure, filled with toys, scattered bedding and the curious faces of three other rats. “Oh!” he gasped, unable to resist moving towards them.

Sister Frances followed, opening the front and allowing the three of them to skitter up her arm, where they peered curiously at newcomers. “Cannoli, Cornetto and Confetti. Papa always did have a sweet tooth,” she grinned up at Primo before returning her attention to the rat on Copia’s shoulder. “And who is this?”

“A new resident, perhaps,” Primo said placing a hand on Copia’s other shoulder. “If you are happy for Eliza to come here, it would be our privilege to care for her. And you’re welcome to come and see her at any time.”

Copia’s momentary delight in the rats evaporated into the muggy heat of the small building and he felt his expression pinch again. His treacherous tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his gaze away from Primo and the Sister. “You must think I’m a pathetic fool.”

“Of course not,” Sister Frances murmured kindly, holding out her arm for Eliza to climb up so she could sniff at the other rats. “It’s always hard to say goodbye.”

“Indeed, fratellino,” Primo sighed. “You think you are being silly but let me tell you…not so far away we have a space where we lay departed souls to rest and there are plenty of our animal friends there. Terzo’s cat, Morpheus for one. Even Secondo’s snake. He dug the grave himself. We are not Catholics; we do not deny our animal friends a soul. If you love another living being there is nothing trivial about that love, si?”

Copia nodded with a hiccup, watching as the Sister placed the rats in the enclosure. He managed a watery smile as the three of them showed Eliza around the toys and feeding stations, like little realtors bragging about a property’s granite countertops and fitted wardrobes. “She looks like she fits right in,” he mused.

“She does. She’s very welcome. And we will take excellent care of here, fratellino, I promise you.”

Hi i don’t care if everyone is asleep right now i NEED to share the little thoughts i had while making midnight grilled cheese

(Takes place in a timeline where Dew retires alongside Copia’s ascension to Imperator)

As much as Dew loves his music, loves touring, he thinks it’s time. It already felt off without Aether there, he does not wanna know what it feels like without Copia. He’s done the whole switching frontman act and he was not a fan. Plus there’s something he’s been wanting to do…

They’ve discussed it before, whisper in the dead of night, but it was never feasible with him and Aether touring. When Aether retired the conversation was brought up again. It stayed in the back of Dew’s mind the entire six months they were gone. Now that he’s also decided to settle he brings it up again. He thinks it’s time they finally have their kit. It’s a very long discussion with a lot of tears from both sides and a few self deprecating words from Dew, but ultimately they agree. They’ve waited long enough.

They go back and forth with the Sibling/ghoul duo who heads the nursery at the abbey for a little, just to get things in order. The day comes where Aether and Dew will head down just to visit and Dew is so nervous he’s ready to pass out. Aether is nervous too, but it translates into trying to calm Dew down. They’re both just a mess but in different ways.

Once they’re down there it’s completely different. Dew is so quiet when he sees the little piles of sleeping kits, too afraid to disturb them. The way his tail wags at their little purrs is enough to communicate how he’s feeling though. They don’t really except to find a kit that day, really just meeting them and learning their stories as the Sibling and ghoul walk them around.

That was the plan until one of the little water pups woke up crying. Dew was the closest to her and something in him told him to just…pick her up. He didn’t even stop to think about it, he just did. He’s never held a kit before and he had no idea why she was crying, so he just held her. He tucked her tight to his chest and she responded by nuzzling his nose into his neck. He nearly cried when she licked at his healed over gill scars.

Aether had never been more in love with Dew than he was right then and there. He cleared his throat before asking the Sibling and ghoul how she ended up here. He knew it didn’t matter what they said, the soft look in Dew’s eyes told him everything. But he was curious.

They told them she had been surrendered upon birth by her parent from a smaller branch of the Ministry. They weren’t given many details, just that her parent supposedly lost her mate and did not want to raise a kit on her own. She was named though before she was given up. Pearl. Her name was Pearl.

There was no better name for her. She was completely white with iridescent scales that shone when the light hit them right. The tip of her tail didn’t have a fin on it, but it was longer and thicker than an average water pup’s at that age. Same with her fangs, sharper and longer than what they should be (think leucistic/white alligator).

They decide right there that Pearl is their kit. They finish whatever paperwork the Sibling and ghoul need and the rest is history. Dew’s a little afraid he won’t be good enough, especially since he doesn’t have his water anymore, but he’d be damned if he left Pearl there. He was raised as a water ghoul so that’s not an issue, but when her element really starts to develop they may have to tap in Rain. It hurts a little he’ll never be able to really swim with his daughter though.

It makes him smile every time he thinks about it. His daughter. Aether’s daughter. Their kit. The first night she’s home in the den they kind of just stay up and watch her, the realization still setting in. Aether ends up falling asleep first. Dew promises he’ll always try his best for her and he asks her to forgive him when he inevitably fucks up. He’ll try not to fuck up. He says fuck about three more times before a very groggy Aether tells him to watch his language.

The unholy ass grab

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𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦: 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘈𝘪𝘥

Rating: T Pairing: Raindrop Word Count: 1.2k Murder Ghouls Ahead! (No actual murder, just the aftermath)

Mushy May brought to you by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. 

Rain sits back against the shower wall. Knees drawn up to his chest. Blood swirling down the drain. Not much. Most of it not even his. But it's enough. Enough that he feels the sting, worse is the bite of shame. Embarrassment. He should be better than this. He is better than this. It’s not like it’s his first hunt or anything. Not like he doesn’t know how to do this–hasn’t done it a thousand times. 

He isn’t sure what went wrong. 

His arm stings. He refocuses his gaze to watch blood leak from it. It’s not that bad–he’s had worse. Nothing like hunting in the pit. But it’s still a nasty gash down the the outer edge of his forearm. It’s still bleeding. It still hurts. 

There’s a sharp knock on his bathroom door. Rain flinches. Ignores it. He doesn’t understand why no one in this place understands what a locked door means. 

“Rain.” 

It’s Dew, voice sharp. Tipping up with worry. Rain wonders if he saw the mess he left by the late–too in shock to even finish his meal or dispose of it properly. Sloppy. He tucks his head into the circle of his arms. He had a knife. Since when do siblings carry knives? Maybe if Rain keeps ignoring him, Dew will go away. 

He knows better, of course. But he can hope. 

“Rain I know you’re in there.” 

Rain sighs. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon.” 

It isn’t like the door is the thing stopping Dew. He already picked the lock on Rain’s bedroom. And he hadn’t thought to lock the bathroom door too. He appreciates Dew giving him this space, but he also knows he isn’t going to be able to get rid of him. Dew can definitely smell the blood–the shame–the disaster wafting through the door.  

“It’s not my blood,” Rain answers. 

The door cracks open and Rain buries his head deeper into the circle of his arms, curls up tighter. Pressed into the corner of the shower like he can disappear. Then Dew’s there. Stepping into the cool spray, fully clothed. Rain hears the hiss of the water as it hits him, evaporates. The hand Dew lays on Rain’s arm is hot. 

Rain looks up at him. He doesn’t know what Dew sees in his face–but whatever it is makes the fire ghoul blanch. He watches as Dew gnaws on his lip with a crooked fang. The sight of Rain pulls at his features. Like he’s warring with relief that Rain is alright, and worry that maybe he actually isn’t. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“Not much to tell. I picked wrong.” 

It happens sometimes. Some humans appear weaker than they are. They fight back. They scratch and claw and kick and scream. Rain, and every other ghoul who hunts, has learned to accept that–expect it even. But not knives. Not knives in the hands of people who know how to use him. 

“Did they survive?” 

Rain shakes his head. 

“Then you didn’t pick wrong.” 

There’s no denying the little flashes of anger in Dew’s voice. Not at Rain–he knows that. At whoever hurt him. Dew probably wished Rain hadn’t killed him–just so he could have had the chance to do it himself. 

“Come on, let’s get you up. The water’s cold.” 

“I like the water cold.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Dew pulls on him with surprisingly strength and Rain lets himself be uncoiled. Dew doesn’t stop until Rain’s standing, looking down at the fire ghoul. Water dripping from Rain’s curls onto Dew’s upturned face. 

Dew presses a soft kiss to the space over Rain’s heart. “You’re fine.” 

Rain nods. “I told you that.” 

“I know. Still had to see it for myself. And you’re still beating yourself up about it. Shit happens.” 

“He had a knife.” 

“He doesn’t have anything anymore.” Dew laces his fingers with Rain’s and reaches around him to turn off the shower. The silence that falls after feels oppressive. Rain winces. Dew frowns just a little, the corners of that delicate mouth pulling down and despite the ache, and the shame, Rain wants to smooth those worry lines away. 

“You don’t have to do any of this,” Rain says softly. Dew reaches up to tuck a drenched curl behind Rain’s ear. Rain chooses to believe he’s doing it to stop the steady stream of icy water from dripping on his cheek. 

“I want to do this. You should have come to me.” 

Rain shrugs. “Why? It’s a scratch.” 

“A lot more than a scratch,” Dew mumbles as he inspects Rain’s arm, pressing gentle fingers to swollen sides. It’s a clean cut–a sharp knife. Deep but not too bad. Not bleeding anymore. A human would need stitches, but Rain isn’t human. “You were embarrassed.” 

Rain grimaces, thinks about lying. He keeps so many people at arm's distance–it’s easier. He’s used to being alone. He spent so much time alone in the pit. But as hard as he tries to hold Dew at a distance, he can’t. Dew doesn’t let him–Rain doesn’t even really want to. Dew’s under his skin, and Rain likes him there. 

“I don’t like fucking up.” 

Dew clicks his tongue. “You didn’t fuck up. Shit happens. Let me fix it.” 

Rain allows himself to be pulled from the shower. Dew points to the closed toilet seat and Rain sits and watches do crouch down to dig into the vanity under the sink, looking for the first aid kit. Dew’s clothes are damp–the heat of him not able to protect him from all of the water. Rain hopes that after this he can get Dew out of them–that they can curl up together in bed and watch something stupid on TV and Rain can forget about everything except the way Dew’s skin feels against his. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie by a sharp sting along the cut in his arm. Dew, cleaning it with one fo those strongly scented alcohol pads that always make Rain’s head hurt. He crinkles his nose up. 

“Sorry, it’s just for a second.”

“Stinks.” “Only you would complain about the smell instead of the pain.” Dew rolls his eyes but there’s a smile there, that worried frown finally disappearing. 

“It’s gross.” 

Dew chuckles as he slathers some cream over the cut–this thankfully doesn’t smell like anything. “Don’t want you drying out, Fishy.” 

That finally makes Rain smile. He dips his head, grinning, heat flaring through his chest–adoration more than anything else. Dew catches him looking away–catches the soft violet color rising to his cheeks. 

“There you are,” he whispers. Using the hand that isn’t covered in lotion to tip Rain’s chin up so they can look at each other.  Dew dips down to kiss him, soft, chaste.  

“Here I am,” Rain whispers, nodding. 

Dew finishes the rest with deft fingers. Pressing a pad into the wound and wrapping tight gauze around it. He pats Rain’s arm lightly when he’s done, satisfied with his work. Then his face goes sober again, serious. It’s Rain’s turn to worry his lip between his teeth. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Dew says, pressing his forehead into Rain’s. “Promise me.” 

He doesn’t answer, he just kisses Dew again. A little longer, a little sweater. An apology. Rain can’t promise him–all he knows how to do is run away. But it’s ok–because he knows Dew will always follow, will always find  him. Will always fix him. 

Hi, hello, it's me again! How are you? I have a rather odd request (at least from my perspective) that I don't actually see much of.

Trans ftm Dew x Swiss? Pretty please? I haven't seen much of it, at least with Swiss that is

-🌟

Hi hi! Sorry it’s been a while, but I’ve saved this for mushy may!

I’m doing well my icon. Not an odd request at all! (But I do love and encourage odd) and obv we love trans ghouls over here

Day 8- sex turning into making love - Swissdew

As always thank you to @forlorn-crows for the prompts and @ghuleh-recs for the banner (:

Warnings for a small amount of degro. This is smut. But obv Swiss is super sweet at the end ok I promise it turns into fluff

There were certain things about Swiss that dew tended to crave.

A sick need for a harsh and loving hand, to be made to feel small, lesser. To be put out of his own head and taken care of when he felt especially out of control of himself. Dew liked to fight for it, so he himself didn’t have to admit he needed help. And Swiss always knew exactly what he needed. He was always there to force him into submission when dew couldn’t disassemble that roadblock himself.

“Maybe if you didn’t whine like a bitch droplet I wouldn’t have to treat you like one” Swiss laughed, watching as dew squirmed when Swiss ran two fingers along his folds. The slightest touch to his clit made him clench and screw his eyes shut, sensitive and already abused.

It’s how Swiss always got him before allowing dew the privilege of being actually fucked. Writhing, begging to be full but shying away from any contact because it was always borderline too much. Dew loved it, needed to be forced out of his head and put at Swiss’ mercy in order to genuinely stop thinking for an hour or two.

“Think you’ve earned it yet?” Swiss coos, sucking on dews release that threatened to drip down his fingers. “Are you dumb enough to get my cock yet baby boy?”

“Please-“ dew moaned, strangled and barely coherent.

Swiss can’t deny him like this. Hes pretty, spread out and desperate. Small tears cling to his lashes and threaten to fall down his face as he digs his fists into the bed sheets when Swiss finally pushes in.

There’s always a strange sense of pride that wells in Swiss’ chest when he has dew in his bed. He’s more than glad dew trusts him enough to let go of his own ego and inhibitions to allow Swiss to be in control. He deserves to be taken care of, even if dew usually insisted he enjoyed being somewhat of a loner when it came to needing anything.

“God you’re beautiful like this dew” Swiss mumbles when he bottoms out before he can think twice about it. His tone is calm, loving, a gentleness that isn’t expected and leaves dew feeling dizzier than he already was.

“What?”

“You’re just -“ Swiss starts, staring down at dew with what can only be described as infatuation.

The harsh grip on dews hips soften, thumbs soothing over the more than likely bruised skin. His hands more than engulf his waist, just slightly kneading into where they hold him.

“I love you, you know that?” Swiss pulls out, watching as dew gasps and throws a palm over his mouth to stifle his whine. He leans over to kiss dew on the chest, trailing up along his neck. Dews thighs are pushed up against his abdomen, practically bending him in half as Swiss starts to fuck him in earnest.

“Kiss me- Swiss please need your lips” dew whimpers as his hands tangle in Swiss’ locs for some sense of grounding. Swiss happily obliges, capturing dews mouth with his own.

Their lips slot together perfectly, dew tasting of smoke and spice as he always does. Something about the neediness in how sloppy dew forces his mouth onto Swiss’ makes his stomach do flips, a sweet tinge of desperation in his panting breaths when they have to pull apart.

Swiss fucks him slow, hitting him deep but showing dew a gentle courtesy he knows he doesn’t get extremely often.

“Faster” dew cries, Swiss can feel a gush of slick around his cock when dew clenches down.

“Wanna take my time with you droplet, let me savor having you like this”

Mushy May Day 22: Reminiscing

Mountain wakes in the middle of the night and watches his mates sleep.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

Another alternate prompt for today!

Mountain can't sleep. It's strange. He's normally the first of the three of them out, snoring gently before his partners have even closed their eyes. Normally sleeps through the night without fail. But despite being awake, he cherishes it, the room dark, barring the silver moonlight that slips through their curtains, just enough to see by.

He turns in Dew's arms, slowly, carefully, not to wake him. But if Dew can sleep through Aether's snoring, rattling in his chest like a chainsaw, Dew can sleep through anything. The fire ghoul's expression is peaceful, eyes gently closed and moving under lids, dreaming. The furrow between his brows is smoothed over, and Mountain can't help himself from brushing a strand of spun gold hair back behind the point of his ear.

It moves his hair off of his neck, and it's just barely bright enough to make out the silvery, parallel scars that line the sides of Dew's throat. Mountain exhales through his nose, unable to resist bringing his fingertip down, tracing featherlight over one of the long cauterized scars.

Dew's ear twitches, piercings jingling, and Mountain pulls his hand back. He stirs, but doesn't wake, mumbling something nonsensical. Mountain's lips quirk up, just staring fondly at his smaller mate. He remembers when those scars were fluttering teal fins, when the spun gold hair was silver.

It makes something pang deep in his heart, the remembering. When things were unimaginably bad, when the three of them clung to each other like fresh, new kits too scared to leave the nest. Scents changing, sea salt to campfire.Terrified, unsafe, paranoid of every shadow.

Things are better now, the band den full of pack again, ghouls that Mountain loves with everything he has. And he has Aether and Dew, peacefully asleep in their shared nest.

He smiles, moving to settle back down. There's a hand curling around his bicep, and he jolts, Aether's eyes glowing amethyst in the dim light as they meet Mountain's.

"Everything okay, nova?" Aether whispers, voice gruff with sleep. "I knew you woke up early for the greenhouse, but I didn't think it was this early yet." The joke is light in his tone, thumb smoothing over his freckled skin, right on his farmer's tan line.

Mountain snorts quietly, kicking into a rumbling purr. "I dunno why I'm up, sorry for waking you."

Aether shrugs with one arm, the other pillowed under Dew's head. "You didn't, not really, just sort of... felt your emotions. More intense than they usually are this late."

"I was just thinking," he says, eyes drifting down to their mate between them. The grip on his arm tightens, Aether's thumb still rubbing in an arc over his bicep.

"We're okay, we made it," Aether whispers, and Mountain nods.

"I know, this is real."

"We earned it, we earned our rest," he says, eyes half-lidded with sleep but still so kind and warm, the magick swirling in his irises like galaxies.

"If we earned our rest, can we please fucking sleep?" Dew mumbles groggily, shifting between them with an adorable pout on his lips.

"Sorry, firefly," Mountain whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on his mate's forehead, letting Dew pull him closer. Their legs tangle together, and Mountain can feel Dew's pulse where their chests are pressed together, remembers how feathery and frantic it was back then, just how much terror tinged their scents. It was so bad they had to get new sheets.

Dew's expression softens, wrapping his arms around Mountain's torso, squeezing him that much tighter. "You okay, junie?" His voice is soft, sweet, the way he speaks to them versus the way he speaks to the rest of the pack.

Mountain nods, a soft keen slipping past his lips as he ducks down again and nuzzles into the crown of Dew's head, avoiding the sharp point of his little obsidian horns. "I love you two," he whispers, eyes darting from Dew's to Aether's and back. "So much. I don't know what to do with it all, I love you so much."

He can see the way Aether's cheek dimples as he smiles fondly over Dew's shoulder, can feel the way Dew's grip around his middle tightens. "Love you too, junie," Dew whispers, breath infernally hot against the shell of Mountain's ear.

Aether's hand squeezes his bicep in three quick pulses. "Love you too, sweet thing. Don't know what I'd do without the two of you."

Dew cranes his neck, peering over his shoulder at him. "You won't have to find out, swear it on our Father Below," he declares, a stubbornness set in his shoulders, and Aether leans down and kisses him. He turns, leaning over Dew's narrow shoulders to kiss Mountain too, tasting the beeswax of his lipbalm.

"Alright," Dew huffs, pulling the two of them back down to the mattress. "I love you two dearly, but can we please sleep?"

"Anything for my darlings," Aether hums, wrapping his arms around the two of them, hauling them closer to him. "Good night."

Dew hums, satisfied, copper eyes shutting as he snuggles between them. Very quickly, Mountain's the only one still awake. He looks at his mates, feels their body heat burning warm. He settles into the nest, breathing in their oh-so familiar scents, and lets that carry him back to sleep.

Comments

Humans can be twats and Omega is there to comfort Aether. (Fatphobic stuff mentioned)

Character: Aether, Omega Word count: 833

It was too late to be awake. The moon threw its light through the window, making the kitchen glow in the dark, and Aether didn’t bother to turn the light on. He was wearing boxers and - unlike him - an oversized sweater.

The quint rummaged through the cabinet filled with snacks and finally settled on a half-full bag of chips. He was hungry, his stomach grumbling for hours now, and it had got more and more unbearable with every passing minute. So he finally got up and decided to get himself something to eat. Aether regretted not eating lunch and barely anything at dinner, and he let out a satisfied groan as he ate the first chip while sitting down at the table.

He looked up when he heard steps and blinked against the light as it was turned on. In the doorway stood Omega, eyes tired and still in his day's clothing; he was coming straight out of the infirmary.

“Hey,” the older said, walking over to the fridge and getting himself a bottle of juice. “Why are you still awake?”

Aether shrugged weakly; he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation. Omega leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the other’s back with a serious expression. He could smell the distress clearly.

“Do you want me to make you something proper to eat?” the taller asked then. Of course, he had noticed how Aether hadn’t really eaten today. “There’s still some dinner left.”

Aether tensed a bit, swallowing what was in his mouth, his gaze unfocused on the table.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he answered, hoping to not sound as restrained as he felt.

He heard Omega shuffle and then felt a big hand on his shoulder. Aether tensed, still not turning around.

“Can you stand up for a second?”

The question was not exactly unexpected, but Aether still let out a sigh. Why couldn’t Omega just leave him alone? He stood up nonetheless, hands pulling at the hem of his sweater.

“Come here.”

Aether walked over, biting the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he was pulled in by the waist and lifted, ending up on the counter, Omega between his legs, hands on his sides, holding the love handles there.

“So, what’s wrong, hmm?”

The younger quint looked down and suppressed the urge to move, uncomfortable with the touch. But Omega understood nonetheless and put his hands on the counter.

“Aeth?” The voice was quiet but empathetic; maybe even a bit worried. It was unusual for Aether to be like this.

“I…,” he shrugged. “I know I’m fat, but I- It’s- Why are people so mean?”

He looked at Omega now, still unable to hold eye contact. Aether knew that not everyone liked Ghost, that there would always be hate towards any band, but the comments he had found were simply rude; and maybe true, he had no idea anymore.

Omega tilted his head to the side, watching the other’s face closely. The hurt he saw went straight to his heart. He knew about comments like that, knew exactly what Aether meant and how much they could hurt. But he also knew that they weren’t true, that people who commented such stuff were pathetic humans, deeply unsatisfied with their own lives.

“So that’s why you haven’t really eaten today?” he asked, understanding. It earned him a nod.

“There’s nothing wrong with fat, Aeth, you know that,” Omega stated then, his hands going to the love handles again. “But I know that comments can hurt really much.”

The older petted his own tummy with a smirk, hoping to lift Aether’s mood a bit.

“I know that having more on the ribs can be hard, Aeth. I know how mean humans are, but there are also nice humans, right?”

The younger looked him in the eyes now, tears swimming in his. He was tired and hungry and even a bit overwhelmed. The tears came naturally, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Omega put both hands on Aether’s cheeks now, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You are beautiful,” he muttered. “We love you, Aeth. We wouldn’t want you any different.”

He pinched the other’s belly.

“Look at that cute belly and be proud of it, yeah? Remember how thin you were when Terzo summoned you… It just shows that you are happy and healthy and loved here.”

Omega gave him a smile, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smile back a bit. The tear that slipped down his cheek was wiped off by the other’s thumb. The younger quint pulled Omega close, arms wrapping around his waist, face shoved into his chest.

“Now come, you eat something that will actually feed you up, and then we’ll go to my room and get some sleep. And I’ve got a free day tomorrow, so how about I show you how much I love that belly of yours then, big boy?”

At that point, the grin on Aether’s face grew larger. ____________

It's time to say that as a fat person, the stuff i got to hear since i was like 10 years old is simply the dumbest shit ever and hurts really much. And those comments were the reason for my second panic attack ever and made by idiotic humans that deserve to be punched in the face.

gonna tag you here @miss-multi45 and my favourite rat @aweisz because they wanted Aether/Omega