#(being set alight shhh)

[lucaway]

Have some doodles while I get my ass kicked by life :)

[sinfulforrest]

A Home drabble! Its about 1.4k words, and is about Home loving the taste of you! Contains slight elements of dubcon, some soft vore, eggpreg and a lot of tongue action!

[Home's appearance can be found here!]

Home likes to taste you, to feel you out with the long tongue that it gave its shell. Your skin always set its taste buds alight; it could taste your very emotions if it lapped at your skin for long enough, something that it liked to remind you of every now and again if you hid your feelings from it.

It’d just pull you into its lap if it sensed that you were feeling off, and it would slowly lick up from your shoulders and right up to your cheek, the pressure of its tongue deepening as it travelled further up you, and would pinpoint exactly what emotion you were feeling.

God knows how Home could do that; maybe it could pick up on your hormones or something, you wouldn’t put it past being able to do that.

The thick saliva residue used to make you feel ill, but you’ve grown used to it by now. You know better than to wipe its claim and scent off of you, so you’d smile along with it whilst cupping its unblinking face in your hands and pressing soft kisses along its sharp skeletal jawline. It would purr in satisfaction, nuzzling the top of your head and holding you tightly to it. You’d feel its body rippling and would pray that its shell won’t collapse in on itself and burst, becoming that ungodly, writhing fleshy mess that still makes you feel scared when you have to look at it.

Home found itself loving the taste of your body more appealing than the emotional aspect of it all, however, and would frequently salivate thinking about the rich and salty taste of your skin when it would make love to you. To Home, that taste couldn’t be beat- it was something that it could truly describe as divine.

One day, it decided to pluck up the courage to ask you something that had been plaguing its mind.

“Little love,” it rasps, “do you know how much I want to devour your precious form?”

The question stunned you, and immediately you started to panic- this was going to be it, wasn’t it? It’d finally had enough of playing with you and it was going to assimilate you-

“Hush, small one. Shhh...don’t be scared. You’re not going to go anywhere, you’re safe here in me.” Home whispers, holding you close. You realise that you’re shaking, and Home gently strokes your hair as it tries to calm you down.

“You promise?” You barely manage to whimper, looking up at its ever smiling face. It nuzzles your forehead.

“I promise. You’re perfectly safe, little love.”

You shakily exhale, forcing out a weak sounding laugh. Thank God you weren’t going to end up like others you’d seen.

“...I am being serious though. I want to truly taste you. Can I?” it whispers, slowly backing you against one of the fleshy walls that made up Home’s true form. You felt absolutely miniscule under its ever unblinking stare, and you didn't want to find out what would happen if you rejected its advances.

“O-Of course you can, Home. Here, let me just...” you begin to stammer, moving the collar of your shirt, but one of Home’s bony hands gently grasps your wrist.

“No. Not like usual. I want to taste you.” It grins, placing its other hand on your hip. The flesh you’re pressed up against shudders before it gives way, and Home pushes you into the unknown. You helplessly fall backwards, landing on a soft, quivering, slick appendage and are surrounded by darkness. The only light is from the entrance of this cavity, and it allows you to see the silhouettes of giant teeth surrounding you.

Your hands and feet start sinking into the warm wet flesh, anchoring you on what you now realise is a giant tongue. Saliva drips onto you in thick globs, dissolving your clothing from your body. Dammit, now you’d have to look through the assimilation pile again for some clothes that were left behind...

The tongue shudders and the tip starts swiping over your body, teasing you with its rough taste buds. It’s specifically rubbing right between your legs and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from teasing your crotch. All you can do is groan in pleasure as you sink further into the flesh, barely being able to buck your hips against the tongue to get that sweet, sweet friction to help ease that throbbing feeling from between your legs.

“Fuck...Home, c-calm down..!” you whine, drooling helplessly as the tongue picks up the pace. You hear Home chuckle from outside the maw.

“But you taste so good, little love. I really could just eat you up...” it giggles. You feel yourself getting moved further within the mouth cavity, but your hands and legs are still firmly stuck in the flesh. Panic rises up in your gut amongst your growing arousal. It gets to the point where eventually your head is laying on nothing, and you are dangerously close to being lost within this cavity forever.

“H-Home, you’re being a bit- ah...a bit risky here..!” you shout as best as you can, trying not to show your fear. The cavity shudders open and suddenly becomes lighter, before turning pitch black.

“I know I am,” it whispers into your thoughts. “But you’re safe. You’re very, very safe, and we’re going to make love here.” it ends with a giggle, and the tongue relents its assault on you before a familiar girthy tentacle bullies its way into your aching hole.

“Fuck-! What are you doing!?” You moan, feeling Home’s thin hands grasping the exposed area of your thighs. You can barely see anything- only the faint glow of its hypnotic bulbs on its chest and its eyes are visible. The sensory deprevation sends a jolt of excitement through you, however.

“Being one with you, and tasting you. Like we usually do.” Home sighs, picking up the pace. The only noises you can hear are the soft whimpers of Home, the slick plapping noises that are made when your hole greedily swallows its tentacle, and throaty, deep growls coming from the depths of the throat that your head dangles over.

Home looms over you now, resting its head by your heaving chest as its tongue curls around your nipples greedily and its tentacle continues pounding inside you. Home moves one of its hands down to your sweet spot, its lithe fingers finally being the push that shoves you over the edge into orgasmic bliss. You cry out, milking the tentacle with all you'd got.

“That’s it love, let it all out...you taste so good, you’re so, so good..!” Home whines. It holds you with an iron grip with its other hand as you tremble and shake under its worship of you. The flesh around your hands slacken and your arms, like they’re on autopilot, wrap themselves around Home, gripping onto it, stroking its soft hair, touching as much of it as you possibly can.

With one final whine, Home releases into you, burying its tentacle right into your fluttering hole. You feel a mixture of slime ooze out of you, and some of Home’s eggs being thrust within you as it keeps you plugged up. You chuckle breathlessly, stroking its hair as it continues dumping its load into you.

“S-sorry...y’felt so good...” it whines into your chest, still thrusting into you. It would be a pain to push these eggs out later, but you were honestly too fucked out to care.

“It’s ok Home, it’s...ok,” you sigh, trembling as its tongue laps against your skin, consuming your sweat and essence. “Maybe we could get out of here now though? I’d like to lay with you and get clean...” you smile. Home moves, probably to look up at you, and you feel its long hair brush against you in what you assume is a nod.

The maw opens, and you’re greeted with the soft light of your shared room once again as the tongue extends out from the wall. Home removes itself from you, slime and small eggs oozing from your hole, and it gently picks you up from the flesh that releases your flushed and tired body.

“You taste absolutely incredible though, my love. I don’t think I could ever get enough of you and your taste.” Home sighs, carrying you in a bridal carry to the ‘bathroom’.

You nuzzle against its warm skin, praying that it’ll never get bored with you.

(More Home posts can be found on its masterlist!)

[kuro-after-dark]

Beggin’

Mammon x fem!reader

A/N: it’s such a shame that it’s kinktober and I barely have the inspiration to write anything for it :(

CW: smut (but it gets a lil fluffy at the end ig), penetrative sex, use of pet names, overstimulation, use of toys, established relationship, restraints, praise, dirty talking

Minors and ageless dni

“Please!”

You must’ve heard that damn word at least a hundred times since starting this session. It was beginning to get old at this point.

“Aww, my poor baby,” you feign sympathy for your boyfriend’s plight as you increase the speed of the vibrating toy nestled against his weeping cock. “Maybe you should have thought about this before you started touching what was mine while I was out.” You smile while taking the toy and tracing it up and down his dick.

You watch as his body arches, beautiful tanned skin glistening with a mix of sweat and the cum from his previous releases before taking away the toy to replace with your own hand as his struggle against the headboard they’d been bound to.

“‘M sorry.” Mammon’s face is tear-stained, strands of snowy hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, “please, it’s too much!”

“But isn’t this what you wanted?” You smile, lips wrapping around his tip as you gently suck, tongue flicking at his slick as his dick twitches in your hand. “You wanted to cum so badly, I’m just giving you what you deserve.”

A lewd moan bubbles in the demon’s chest as his hips stutter upward in to your warm mouth. He’s right at the edge of bliss if only you’d let him fall over it, but you only pull away. There’s a dissatisfied whine that escapes him as you crawl your way up his body, light kisses pressed up his abs, then chest, then finally his neck.

“Please! Can’t-”

“Yes you can, pretty boy.” The way his breath hitches as you sit, trapping his raw cock between your slick warmth and his sticky stomach as you start to grind against its veiny underside makes a sadistic smile settle on your lips. “Look at you, you’re being so good now.”

Mammon’s so sensitive, doing his best not to cry at the pleasure as his nth orgasm starts to build. He can’t think straight- not when you’re moving so sinfully against his spent body, not when the room reeks of sex, and most certainly not when he can hear the beautiful moans cascading from your lips every time his tip nudges your aching clit.

“C-cumming!” The warning choked out as his milky release spurts over his stomach and his eyes roll back.

You only lean down to press soft kisses to his jaw as you raise your hips and take his dick in your hand, pumping it back to life as you slide onto it.

“No more- I can’t take it,��� he rasps through tears, surprised he hasn’t started shooting blanks yet, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll never touch myself again!”

“Shhh,” your voice is comforting to the demon who feels like every nerve in his body has been set alight as you reach up and untie his hands from the headboard. “Just one more, sweet boy. Make cum and we can be done. Can you do that for me, Baby?”

The demon only whines pathetically as you kiss him, hands moving to land at your hips as you slowly begging to ride him, testing his reactions to see if you truly had gone too far.

When Mammon only thrusts his hips up to meet yours, you know he’s still got more in the tank. He lives to please you, and you both greedily take from each other time and time again in this way.

It doesn’t take long for you to start to feel the makings of your climax, looking at his fucked out expression, tongue lolled out as he pants your name, always excites you.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Baby.” your words come out slightly slurred after he meets you with a slightly harsher thrust, “Always so good for me- fill me up so perfectly. Can you feel it? My pussy wants to milk you dry. You’ll give it to me right?”

Mammon can’t even form words right now, the searing pleasure and burning in his throat stealing them away and replacing them with pitchy groans as your hot, gummy walls do nothing but massage his aching cock. Every slap of your hips against his has his dick twitching and his balls tightening. He just barely has the presence of mind to draw sloppy, tight circles around your engorged clit.

You leaning back, shifting as your hands lean against his quivering thighs so you can watch as your cunt swallows him whole is what finally pushes him screaming your name into oblivion with you right behind him.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” You’re breathless as you sink down one final time, trapping him in your slick, fluttering walls as his seed gushes into you with every delicious throb of his cock.

And Mammon’s equally as breathless, chest heaving as his strong arms wrap around you and he nuzzles into you, allowing you to give him sweet kisses as a form of apology for the best torture you’ve put him through.

“Love you too…” is all he says as his eyes begin to slip closed, lids too heavy to stay open.

Cleaning up can come later. For now, you just enjoy the feeling of your bodies pressed tightly to one another.

・・・〆・・・

End

[ejoygvf]

Lost in Fleet

Your first time seeing the band at Wembley Arena, London and of course… you get lost backstage. What’s the worst that could happen?

My first ever fic, please be kind. This is a mini Sam three parter! Enjoy 🤍

Content Warnings: Sexy talk, alcohol, angst, fluff💕

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

_______________________

The handle for the bathroom stall you were in started to turn, but before you could even process what was happening, the door had slammed back shut. Your eyes shot up, but you didn’t see anybody. “Ahh fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I am so fuckin’ sorry!” You froze, still sat on the toilet, tights and thong round your ankles with your dress bunched at the waist. You recognised that strong Michigan accent anywhere and your entire core felt like it had been set alight. “Oh, erm n-no worries. Im nearly done. Will be out in a sec.” I’ve gone from being lost at Wembley Arena, trying to re-locate my friend to now letting Sam Kiszka know that I’ve nearly finished pissing, great.

You tried to quickly sort yourself out with shaky hands and a now very rapid breath. Taking a gulp, you stared at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom cubicle you were in. Now terrified to step out of it, you took a deep breath, splashed some cold water over your hands and turned to get out and back to finding your friend. You felt like your hand was paralysed, not able to turn the handle, nervous for what or who was waiting on the other side. Pressing the door shut behind you and closing your eyes leaning back, head against the wood, you took the deepest breath in through your nose at what you’re pretty certain just occurred.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you supposed to be back here?” A kind voice came from the hallway behind you. Trying to collect yourself, you turned to see an absolutely beautiful woman wearing a pair of loose fit jeans and a black pleather crop top. You knew that smile, you’d seen it all over Twitter and Instagram, it was Jita. Was this real life? She could clearly see in your face that you were a bit shaken and certainly very confused. The main question being, how you ended up in the backstage area of the place you were supposed to be seeing one of your favourite bands, for the first time. You blinked back light tears and nodded at her “Yeah, I’m okay thanks. I’m lost to shit and have no idea where my friend is but she’s probably in the middle of pit by now and they’re about to play, so there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be able to get out there now and I’ve been wanting to see them play for so long and-“

You were talking a million miles an hour, not even taking a breath, the anxiety taking over your whole body. Jita so elegantly lifted her hands to your shoulders and held them firmly, looking up at you with the most perfectly lined, brown eyes. “Hey, hey, shhh, shhh. Take. A. Breath. Girlie! You’re okay, I’m here, I got you. You’re gonna be all good, you’re gonna watch the show and have a great time, alright?” Before you could even answer, she wrapped you up in a bear hug, so warm but still elegant and light as was every move she made.

“Where’s the rest of the team? And the family? Hannah, Karen, Kelly, Paige?” You knew who everyone was, of course you did. She turned to you, answering all the burning questions you’d been asking whilst hurriedly walking down the halls to side stage. Yes… SIDE FUCKING STAGE. Jita wasn’t going to let you go back through the crowd by yourself at this point, it would have been too dangerous. She managed to blag another backstage pass for you to hang round your neck. I mean, she could get away with it, she was pretty much the only long term and loyal girlfriend of any member. “Oh, well… Hannah and Sam broke up a while back and it’s just me on the European leg of tour. Apart from obviously the social media team, management and yadda yadda yadda…”

You didn’t want to pry when you heard about Hannah and Sam. You had had your suspicions and so had the entire fan community after the unfollowings on Instagram and removal of any couple pictures, but to actually hear it kind of made your tummy flutter. Especially at the fact, you’re almost certain about 20 minutes ago, he had seen you having a piss.

Jita grabbed your hand, dragging you up the stairs on the side of the stage. The boys were coming on from the other side and still had a little while to go, so you took this time to ask 101 more questions. You thought if you’d focus on just talking that you would manage to push through the sickening fact you were standing side stage of Wembley arena, about to be just feet away from Greta. Because in reality, you were absolutely shitting yourself, quite frankly.

“Sooo, does this happen often? Fans getting lost backstage. Let alone ending up side stage with you? Sorry, I know I’m probably pestering you and asking all the questions ever and for you this is just a standard Tuesday but-“ There it was again, word vomit. You weren’t hiding the nerves very well. “Erm honey… remember what I said about breathing?” She giggled and bumped your shoulder, making you relax a bit. She handed you a clear cup that smelt fruity and was dark pink in colour. “It’s some sort of fruity cider. You said you were old enough to drink, right? It’s like 18 and legal to drink in the UK? So just have a drink and it’ll calm your nerves. But you have no need to be nervous with me, I promise you’re in good hands.” She smiled. You took the cup, knocking back a gulp and actually, you almost instantly felt lighter.

You looked back up at her smiling and nodding before she carried on talking. “See? I told you it’d help. Anyway, to answer question 74 out of 200.” She chuckled to herself and lightly pushed your shoulder. Embarrassed you put your hand up to your eyes and mouthed a pathetic sorry to her. “I’m only teasing you, it’s actually really nice to have someone to talk to and you seem so chill. But to actually answer your question, no. No, this never happens and if the rest of the group was here, this wouldn’t flow. But hey, being the only girl on a tour with those four fucks can be slightly grating, so I’m allowing myself to adopt a friend and the guys will think you’re great too. I’ve met some really nice fans, don’t get me wrong. Then you get some that are absolutely batshit mental. But I dunno, there’s something about you y/n, you just seem different. Ya know? I wanna chill with you and dance lots tonight. I’ll introduce you properly after they’ve finished and if you want, we’re going for some drinks after… I think? Who knows, but either way… you’re coming with, so it’s not another sausage fest for me.” Now she was word vomiting and knocking back her cup of cider. But you didn’t mind, it was comforting to hear and the biggest compliment. What was so different about you?

You looked up to see where her eyes were focused. They were looking over to the other side of the stage and that’s when you saw them. All four of them. She was beaming, crinkles in the outter corners of her eyes forming from a smile plastered across her face, so big. The sight of her boyfriend, Jake who was goofily dancing around for her attention. She waved at them and they all waved back lovingly. You could see them all huddled before Sam pointed over at you and all eyes turned to check out what he was gesturing to. You wanted to die, you wanted the ground to swallow you entirely. “That’s who I saw pissing in the toilet backstage.” You just knew that’s what he must’ve been saying.

Danny waved at you first, dressed in a white, velvety tank and matching trousers with a gold stripe running down the sides of each leg. His hair perfectly tousled down the back of his neck, curled to an absolute art. His makeup was like always, almost Egyptian looking, totally stunning.

Josh, gave you a salute. His bare feet tiptoeing up and down on the floor to steady his nerves. He was wearing the gold jumpsuit with green vines and jewels that you had seen in so many photos and videos, but in person it was even more breathtaking. His smile took up almost his entire face and he just oozed a confidence, not cockiness, just confidence.

Jake, the moon. Still dancing like a goof with a guitar pick between his lips, shot you some gun fingers to keep in theme with his garish moves. Dressed in his usual two piece, black with the gold accents. Tummy poking through, not yet drenched with sweat like it normally is when you watch them on YouTube. You couldn’t be sure but it looked like he had a bit of eyeliner on too, which you weren’t complaining about.

Then, there he was. The fourth. The baby.

The now single Sammy. He was ethereal, god like, spilling pure sex appeal. You weren’t expecting to be so drawn to him. You’d always been in twin lane, mainly Josh’s. But seeing Sammy, casually lent up against the tallest amp on stage, a cocktail in hand, bare feet planted on the floor and his eyes laser focused on yours, you were driving your car straight out of that lane and right into his. He was fucking beautiful and he could not take his eyes off of you. No wave, no gesture, just the slightest curve of his lips on one side of his mouth. You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights and just to be sure, you turned around to check he wasn’t looking at someone behind you, but there was no one else. You looked back at him smiling slightly. He looked down to his feet, chuckling to himself. Embarrassed, you gulped another bit of your drink and tried to occupy your hands so you weren’t nervously picking at the skin around your nails. Sammy looked back up at you and winked, sending lightening bolts through your core. It wasn’t just a greeting wink, it felt like more than that and you knew it.

Neither you nor Jita interacted with the boys during the show. You had moved further down to get a better view of the stage. You’d text your friend and explained what had happened and she replied with “Go and shoot your shot. I’ve made some pals down here anyway! Love you xx” To be fair, she had only come along for moral support, she wasn’t a huge Greta fan, so deep down you didn’t feel to guilty. The show from start to finish was more than magical, it was everything you could have ever imagined and more. You felt physically electric. You danced, screamed, clapped, sung and jumped around with Jita. She made all of your worries and anxieties disappear. It felt totally natural, you two had really just gravitated towards each other, perfectly.

Just before the boys went off stage, Jita signalled for you to follow her. You threw your empty cup into a bin, mid run to keep up with her, punching the air when it lands. You can hear the screams slowly fading, the further backstage you get and you hear Josh’s last “sugaaaaaaar” of Highway Tune, which means you know the show is coming to an end. You’re led to a little green room backstage, near where the bathroom you were lost in earlier, was. Clothes scattered all over chairs, bottles of half full Fireball and Tequila on the table with a bowl of fruit, bags of nuts and a jar of honey. It smells like cedar wood, patchouli and sweet tobacco, mixed slightly with a hint of booze and sweat. “y/n, take a seat here and I’ll be back in a second. I’m just gonna pee and then find Jake and give him the run down of… this.” She signalled to you with her hands. She smiles widely at you and dramatically blows a kiss making a MWAH sound before running out the door and letting it slowly close behind her. Your mouth was left wide open, about to say something but it had all happened so quickly and she was gone before you’d even had the chance to produce sound.

You were facing away from the door, before you saw a full length mirror in the corner. You took this moment to go over, collect your thoughts and give yourself a pep talk. During the show your nerves had severely calmed and you were definitely more relaxed now after having three ciders. Jita did everything in her power to make you feel comfortable and you felt like old friends by the time you were flung into a green room.

You checked yourself over in the mirror, smoothing over the deep purple fabric of your mini dress. You adjusted it round your neck and trailed your hands down the long bit of chiffon that fell delicately down the side of it. Your hair was still perfectly in place, you bounced it up slightly. It had more volume to it since you had your fringe and layers cut in. Giving a Stevie Nicks 70s vibe to your style. Your lashes still long and eyeliner ever so slightly smudged, which you quickly cleaned up with your pinky. You reached into your bag, put on a bit of tinted lip balm and placed a tic tac in your mouth.

“You got this! You’re just backstage at Wembley Arena about to meet the entire band. It’s all good, just breathe…” As you turn to sit back down, your head quickly snaps back into the mirror “and DON’T say anything stupid!” A sweet smile crosses your face and you sit back down. You started to scroll through Instagram, your timeline filling up with pictures and videos of tonight’s show and it blows your mind to think you were just watching the same thing.

It felt like you were scrolling for a good 20 minutes and then you heard the door crash open behind you. Jumping up from your seat to catch your breath you hear “Ahh fuck, again?! I’m so sorry. I’m not doing so hot here, am I? Bursting through doors and scaring the living shit outta you.” You’re frozen into place. Yup, that’s Sam again. You’d bet your life on it. You slowly turn on your heels as the slow close door thuds shut behind him. A shy but warm smile creeps onto your face and you know that your eyes are lit up. Inside you’re internally screaming but you’re trying to appear as composed as possible.

“It is… you… right? The girl that I walked in on in the bathroom. Again… I’m so fuckin’ sorry about that. I’m erm- I’m Sam. Nice to meet you. Jita said something about a y/n. I’m assuming that’s you? You got lost or some shit and here you are?” You started to slowly nod and were about to speak before he started up again. “This isn’t some like crazy fan tactic to get backstage or anything? Jita is such a softie and will talk to anybody, but even this is a lot for her. We were all pretty pissed off when she told us that she met a lost fan backstage and decided to not only let her watch from side stage but invited her out to after show drinks.” It was at this point you stopped zoning out long enough to look at him and get a real good look. Bare foot, white cigarette style trousers, perfectly ironed to a pleat in the middle. They stopped mid hip with no belt. A little tuft of hair just under his belly button and on his chest too. He was glazed with sweat and his shoulders, chest and stomach were moving so animatedly with every breath he was taking. Clearly exhausted from the show. His hair, chocolatey brown slightly sticking to the sides of his face but mostly fallen behind his shoulders. A gold sword necklace hung between his collar bones and his eyes dark, warm brown were scanning over your entirety.

“So what is it then? Huh?” You must have looked ridiculous, mouth snapping back shut after your jaw had been hanging open. He was clicking in front of your face to knock you out of your daze. “Helllloooooo? y/n you there, precious?”

“Fuck, yeah… sorry. I-I didn’t mean t-, I never purposeful-, Jita found me after y-.” You sighed, feeling defeated and shrugged your hands up into your face. Walking yourself back to lean up against an empty space of the wall. “No. I don’t have any sort of tactics. I had no plan or intention of coming backstage, I’m totally out of my depth here.” You walked over to the booze scattered table, pouring yourself half a plastic cup of fireball and essentially inhaling the sweet spicy liquid. “I’m not a crazed, weird fan that’s trying to fuck you guys, if that’s what you’re thinking. This was supposed to be my first time seeing you guys live and then I got separated from my friend and ended up in a bathroom, where w- well, ya know what happened there. Jita could clearly see that I looked like a lost soul and helped me out, we watched the show and now, here I am… I guess?” You had at this point found yourself back up against the wall, your new comfort space which was a safe distance away from him. But you hadn’t even noticed that mid speech, Sammy had made his way over to you.

He was standing inches away from you. Your arms hanging beside you, palms flat against the wall. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, you could smell the sweat mixed with cologne. A faint but sweet smell of whatever cocktail he’d been drinking on his breath. He smirked at you, clearly revelling in the fact that he was turning you into a quivering bag of nerves. Even though you were trying to play it as cool as you could, he saw right through you. He leaned forward with his hand flat against the wall, next to your head. His forearm was brushing against your hair and you could feel him as he inched his face closer to yours. His lips must have just been centimetres away from your own. You felt his honey brown eyes searching over all of your features. For what? You’re not sure, but he looked hungry.

“Hey precious, slow yourself down. I never said it would have been a bad thing now, did I?” He licked his lips and you swore you could have felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. “What wouldn’t have been a bad thing?” You breathily sighed out, eyes fluttering between his lips and eyes. “Wouldn’t have been a bad thing if your goal was to end up back here, just to fuck one of us.” What the actual hell was happening. The acidity of the fireball you’d shot back was sat at the base of your throat, your entire body felt as though it had been lit on fire. You darent move your palms from the wall behind you, knowing they’d be drenched in sweat.

Before you could utter a sound he used his spare hand to reach up and tuck your loose strands of hair behind your ear, keeping his fingers lingering at the hollowed out space below the side of your jaw and below your earlobe. He was eyeing you like a hawk, curious as to what your next move would be, if you were going to be ballsy or let him take the lead. His face lit up and he smiled at you, a very menacing smile, oozing sex and lust. “Never fucked a fan before, let alone fucked backstage.”

“Tha- that wasn’t my intention, Sammy.” You choked out, feeling your breath heavier with each passing second. Get yourself together. Your inside voice was screaming at you. Don’t. Pass. Up. This. Opportunity. Try and exude any sexual prowess you can conjure up. You were telling yourself over and over. Dutch courage overtook you and you decided to play him at his own game. You coughed slightly and pulled yourself up from the wall to straighten yourself out. Faces still so close. Lifting a hand and gently brushing his hair from the side of his face, sweeping it over his ear and letting your fingers pass down his shoulder and bicep before dropping it back to your side. He shuddered at your touch, you were gentle but somewhat needy with it.

You’d for sure taken him by surprise. He wasn’t expecting that type of bold move from you. He leant his forehead against yours, your bodies were closer now, as well as your faces. That’s when you felt it and your centre ignited. It was just brushing against your hip bone, he was taller than you by a good few inches, so that’s where it naturally fell whilst he stood near on flushed to you. He was hard, not just semi, but rock hard and l… ME, little old me, had got him into that state of mind?!

You started to feel the warmth between your thighs, yourself. Was this really happening right now? He ever so gently pressed his lips against yours and you welcomed it, kissing back lightly. His bottom lip slightly overlapping yours, so it was on your skin too. It was brief, soft, warm, only a little wet but my god was it full of want and lust.

The door opened behind Sammy and his hand dropped from beside your head, pulling himself back all together at the noise of someone entering the room. He whispered loud enough just so that only you could hear “I guess we’ll experiment with that not so bad idea a bit later on in the night, hey then, precious?” And he shot you a wink. Your insides were mush at this point and the wetness pooling in your underwear had become almost uncomfortable.

“Sammy, don’t be a dick and stop bullying y/n. Jitabug says she’s great. Oh wait, your name IS y/n, right? I’m shit at names.” Jake laughed gently. “Yeah, it’s y/n. Nice to meet you, you’re so lucky to have Jita. She’s so sweet and you guys were amazing, by the way!” You smiled through all of your words. He walked over with arms open extended out to you, “Imma a bit sweaty so forgive me but gotta hug any friends of Jitabugs, especially ones she insists hang out with us after a show. Sorry if Sam was being a little COCKSUCKER.” He turned his head aiming the last words towards his little brother. “He thinks he’s really hilarious, but nine times out of ten, he isn’t. Hey Sam… don’t change your day job to be a comedian, you’d fuckin succckkk!” Sam shot you a cheeky grin and winked at you, knowing that his brother had absolutely no clue what had just occurred. He played right into it. “Can’t help myself, Jake. I love bullying fresh meat. Especially if it’s a crazed fan that’s pretending to be lost, just to get into one of our pants.” He let out a belly laugh and held his stomach as if he was in physical pain from cracking a shit joke. You swore you could feel your face burning red. Jake rolled his eyes towards you and shook his head “Fuckin hell, sorry about him, honestly.” Turning his eyes back to Sammy and half scowling. “Sammy, seriously. Stop being a fucking asshole. Jitabug said she’s super cool and real chill. She’s coming for drinks with us, end of. So let your friendly alter ego come out… yeah? Not everyone understands your warped sense of humour..”

Sammy giggled and nodded along whilst making his way over to you. “You’re right, Jacob. Sorry for being a miserable bastard.” He turned to look directly at you… “you don’t seem too batshit crazy, I’m sure we’ll have a great night and hey, I’m glad you enjoyed your first Greta Van Fleet show. What a great way to celebrate it, huh?” He said all this with a genuine smile on his face, sex still showing through his eyes. He leaned in and gave you a hug, wrapping his arms around your head, in an almost child like way. He pressed his lips to your ear, subtly enough for Jake not to notice. “Sorry, that was a bit harsh, precious. I’m just hungry for you and want later to be now.”

You felt his cock twitch against your hip bone just briefly before he pulled back, keeping a hold of your shoulders. You took in a sharp breath and giggled at him, not knowing how else to respond.

Jita ran into the room basically bowling into Jake with open arms. He welcomed it, sloppily dousing her face with kisses. Giggles, lip smacking and pet names were echoing in the corner of the room. Danny came bounding in next, wiping sweat off of his forehead, closely followed by Josh who was smiling from ear to ear after the show they’d just put on, obviously (and rightly so) very proud of himself. “Y/n! It’s so good to meet you. Weird circumstances but any friend of Jitas is a friend of ours. Come ‘ere!” Danny pulled you in for a warm cuddle and you almost stuck to his sweaty chest. He radiates the most beautiful, Greek God like aura and smelt like eucalyptus and peppermint. “Absolutely, and what a joy it was to have you enjoy your first show side stage, magical energy as always for us in the UK. S’a pleasure to meet you, y/n.” Josh lent forward, bowing his head and taking your hand in his, before placing a firm kiss on the top of your hand. He was, as everyone says, a human sunshine. A ball of nothing but pure radiance and love. A constant beaming smile and glint in his eyes.

“It’s so, so good… and slightly weird to meet you all. Still feels strange but my god, what an awesome show. I’m so glad to have finally seen you live and now… we’re getting drunk? Life’s weird, huh?” You chuckled out loud and were followed by giggles from the rest of the group. “Hell yeah, we’re getting drunk… and y/n, we fucking love weird! Have you met us? Well no, you hadn’t until just fifteen minutes ago, so don’t answer that. But now you have so-“ Josh started stumbling over his words, his mouth to slow to keep up with his brain. “Okay Josh bud, I think she gets it.” Danny grinned, patting him on the back. Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time. He had sat on the sofa at this point, a pillow strategically placed over his crotch. Christ, when did this rockstar last get laid?

[whumpiary]

content warning: noncon/dubcon vibes, intimate whumper, sensory deprivation

-

Cassius’ knees have long since gone numb, kneeling in the center of the bedroom like this. His shoulders are shaking from holding his hands so tensely behind himself, his spine aches from keeping himself upright. His thighs had been cramping, earlier. Whether they’ve stopped now or he’s just stopped feeling it, he can’t really be sure.

He could rest. If he wanted. Sit back on his calves instead of kneeling up. But… that wasn't the agreement.

“Would you like to kneel or be strung up?”

He hasn’t seen it, but he’d bet another hour on the floor here that the ribbon he holds between his fingers matches the one around his eyes. Red silk. Or satin maybe. To be honest, he doesn’t know the difference. Shiny and slippery and soft. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger, little circles over and over, as he holds it taught, the change of grain in the fabric oddly soothing and the one solid thing he has left to hold on to.

“Would you like me to tie your wrists together or would you like to hold the ribbon in place?”

It’s freezing in here. He keeps shaking. Bone-deep cold. He’d assumed, maybe stupidly, that the fire would be left going while Christopher was gone. That the heating in the room would stay on. That the fucking window was going to stay closed. Maybe it would’ve if he’d chosen differently.

“Naked for an hour, or clothed for two?”

There’s a part of him that’s glad for the noise cancelling headphones. For one thing, at least, his ears are still warm. Which is more than he can say for any other part of him. For another, the white noise isn’t as bad as he’d expected. He loathes the blindfold usually. Hates that he can’t see anything, can’t track anything, every noise a could-be-threat that he can’t help but stay hyper vigilant to. The static is a relief in comparison, a neutral wash that fades everything out to grey. Well, almost everything. 

“Shame we can’t take away that last little sense of yours, isn’t it?”

There’s only a small part of him that’s startled by Christopher’s return. The rest has been waiting for him patiently the whole time, tiny shreds of sensory information filtering through the grey wash of the cold and the dark and the static. The vibrating creak through a floorboard shifting. The deepening of shadow behind the blindfold. And louder, brighter, more vibrant than all of it, the thrum, thrum, thrum of all the things Christopher wants. Fucking ravenous. Cass has never understood how one person could be so hungry all the time and not starve.

I’ll be what you want, I’ll be what you need.

Let me feed you, let me feed you, let me feed you. 

He feels himself readjust, spine straightening automatically much to the protest of the muscles in his back. His breath picks up, sitting high in his chest. His nostrils glare, blindfold A shiver runs over his skin, sets it on fire, reminds each cell to wake up. Spike of adrenaline preparing him to run from the tiger that he can’t see. As though he could run now, on the long-numb legs. 

Christopher doesn't touch him at first. Cassius feels himself bristling with the need for it. 

The first thing that happens is a light bump of the headphones that makes him flinch in fright. Then a pause. Then they’re lifted away and the deafening cacophony of roomtone and the rest of the world floods his ears and makes him gasp, nearly in pain with it. He can’t tell if everything’s louder without the static or just horribly, horribly silent but his whole body sways with the dizzy nausea it sets through him. 

He whimpers. Christopher shushes him gently. He tries to tilt his cheek into a nonexistent hand, desperate for the reality of touch. 

“Did you move, darling boy?”

It takes him a minute to remember to respond, to shake his head. But when he does, he does so with fervour. 

No, he didn’t move. He was good today. Wasn’t he good today? Please.

“Did he move?”

A question over his head, to the back of the room, to someone Cassius hadn’t been given the privilege of knowing was there. He nearly turns his head to look. He catches himself a few millimetres to the right and stills, clenching his jaw.

He was good today. Wasn’t he good today?

There must be an answer in the affirmative Cassius doesn’t hear because Christopher’s fingers press into the soft patch of skin just under his jaw and tilt his head up. He’s kissed tenderly, deeply, softly, violently. He doesn’t drop the ribbon.

He can imagine Christopher’s smile against his lips, his glittering eyes.

“I’m so proud of you”

He wishes the praise didn’t make his heart sing. Wishes, too, that it wasn’t just his heart the words set alight.

Christopher’s hand pushes back lazily through his hair and he tries not to lean into it but he does all the same. The man’s fingers trail down along his neck, across his shoulders. The touch is like a prayer. Like he’s being prayed to. Like he’s something holy.

Venerated. Sacrosanct. Divine.

“You know one of my friends has his boy do this for hours and hours on end. Usually with a gag of some description…” The man’s fingers brush against Cassius’ lips and he parts them just a little, jaw soft and slack. Christopher presses his fingers past his boy’s teeth, pressing down on his tongue. Pushing in further. “It’s quite the sight.” 

Cassius opens his mouth wider. Relaxes his tongue. Sucks. He can hear the soft gasp of Christopher’s breath, the tug of his lust. What he wants. What he restrains from. The man’s fingers press further in. 

“His boy doesn’t need incentive, though,” Christopher continues, voice thick with desire. “He’ll wait and wait like a good boy with nothing but the promise that it’ll be over soon. Isn’t that lovely?”

Are you going to be good for me today? Are you going to earn it?

Cass wonders if his lips have gone purple in the cold or if they’re still the plump pink Christopher adores so much. When he was a kid his lips were always going purple. Cass used to secretly like the look of it. 

"You’ve been so good for me today, haven’t you? Indulging me like this,” Christopher says. He runs his fingers through Cassius’ hair, back and back until they’re tangled loosely at the back of his skull, ready to tug and pull and push as he pleases. He’s been good. He’s been good. Please, he’s been so good.

It’s the retreating of Christopher’s fingers, rather than the pressing in, that threaten to make Cass gag. He nearly does. Nearly. He doesn’t. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pressing forward into the hand at his cheek. The word comes from nowhere, falling from his lips unbidden. His head feels full of the static that left. “Sorry, I’m so sorry”

Christopher hums in his throat, thumb running across Cassius’ cheek to catch a tear that’s slid down past the blindfold. “What are you sorry for, my love?”

He shakes his head and turns his face until he can press it into the man’s palm. He holds back a useless whine. His body shakes with a voiceless sob instead.

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck? Why was he being like this? He wasn’t even hurt today. 

Please, for the love of God. Wasn’t he good?

“Oh, darling, you’ve gotten yourself all worked up for nothing, haven’t you?”

He whines, cries, sobs. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Tell me I’m good.

“Please ju-” he gags on nothing and his breath hitches. Even behind the blindfold, he screws his eyes shut. He wants the static back. “Help me.”

Christopher hums and cards fingers through Cassus’ hair again, settles a warm palm on his cheek. “Of course,” he says. “Always.”

Bullshit. Still, Cass accepts the kiss that’s laid to his lips like it’s his last chance for air before drowning. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

Christopher tilts Cassius’ head up with two fingers under his jaw, both still slick with spit. “Now, would you like to see Henri now or-"

“Tomorrow,” Cass says, all but cries out. He can’t say why he feels so desperate. “Please. Tomorrow.”

“Are you sure, darling?” the man asks, lips like hot coals against the curve of his shoulder. “That wasn’t what you wanted earlier.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t want to see him. Please, I don’t want him to see me like thi-”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” his voice is so careful and soft. Like a whisper. His fingers skirt the blindfold and don’t lift it. “Tomorrow, then.”

Don’t touch me, don’t look at me, don’t come near me. 

“What do you need, my love?”

Stay with me, hold me, don’t leave. 

“You,” he says, unbidden, unprompted, unburdened right now of the shame that comes with admitting it. “Please. For fuck’s sake. I need you.”

Christopher hums again, the self satisfaction so thick in his voice it’s practically dripping.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

“Come on, darling boy, let’s get you to bed.” 

I love you, I love you, please love me too.

“For what it’s worth, I think you look divine.”

[touyaspeach]

Summary ; You and Dabi play a sexy version of Russian Roulette.

Warnings ; dark content, noncon, dubcon, snuff, gun play, dacryphilia, fem! reader, kidnapping, uhh please lmk if I missed anything

Words ; 2.4 k

Thanks ; @katonshoko @cyancherub

A/N ; I've never written anything so dark before, I hope you like it! Though this fic is a far cry from the way I'd normally portray Dabi, it was still fun to write!

Letting him tie you up was a mistake that would cost you your life. You couldn’t fight back, you couldn’t struggle; all you could do was scream but it’s not like anyone would hear you. The ropes burned around your wrists as you tried desperately to free yourself, to no avail.

“Don’t be scared, little mouse. It’s just a game,” his deep voice rang out melodically above you. He spoke in such a soft way, gentle and sing-song while the gun he’d brandished was cold and harsh in contrast. The revolver that he loaded a single round into, spinning the cylinder and snapping it closed to your horror.

You were trembling all over, your body shaking against the restraints that you thought were for a fun and sexy time. Now, they were but a prison to keep you contained until...what? Until he fucked you until he killed you? The thought sent tears streaming down your cheeks as he slid off his belt and pants.

“Dabi, please,” you sobbed as he took his place between your thighs, “Please don’t do this!”

“Shhh…” he quieted you by pressing the barrel of the revolver against your pretty lips, the cold metal a shock to your system. “It’s just a game, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t just a game, you knew that bullet was in that gun, and that he’d planned on pulling that trigger. You choked another sob, bowing your head as you tried to process exactly what was happening.

“Here’s how this works. You’ll be a good girl for me, right? If you aren’t and you cum without permission, I’ll pull the trigger. It’s not that hard, so you should be fine, right?”

“Please…” you whispered, “please don’t.”

“I’m sorry, doll, it’s already happening,” Dabi trailed the barrel down the side of your neck, sending goosebumps to prickle all over your body. He pulled it down and over your collarbone, and between the valley of your breasts which made your breath hitch. His eyes were alight with excitement as you shuddered when the unforgiving metal grazed over your nipple, instantly hardening it.

The sight of you, shaking and crying while begging him to stop just made his cock harder and harder until he couldn’t wait anymore. “Be good for me, doll.” he cooed once again as he trailed his cockhead up and down your slit.

“Already so wet for me? Does being scared like this turn you on? So filthy,” he chuckled, pressing into you slowly. His cock stretched you out in the most pleasantly unpleasant way, rows of piercings slipping in and stimulating your walls. It shouldn’t feel so good, why did it feel so good? You were terrified and you were sure you didn’t want this. Right?

“Fuck, so tight. That’s it, that’s my girl. Take all of my cock,” Dabi said with a groan as he bottomed out. You felt better than he could have anticipated, so soaked with fear and arousal, you really were a freak. A freak who was so perfect for him, he was almost sad to play this game with you. But, well, he couldn’t exactly stop now.

You sobbed harder when he started thrusting in and out of you slowly, and even harder still when you realized that he felt good. That him fucking you like this felt so good despite how fucked up it was. His dick somehow hit every spot inside of you perfectly, cockhead kissing your sweetspot over and over. It was enough to turn your soft sobs into soft moans, something that he took care in noticing.

“See? Feels good, right? No reason to be gettin’ all worked up, doll.”

With that, Dabi picked his pace up until he set a rhythm that had you seeing stars. The squelching of your juices and the snapping of his hips combined in a lewd symphony as he fucked you. With an evil smirk he trailed the cold barrel of the gun down your torso again, down and over your mound, and pressed it against your neglected clit. You jolted at the feeling, already so sensitive. The metal was ice on your heat, a shock to your system, and your reaction drew a breathy chuckle from him.

“You like this.” it wasn’t a question, “you’re more of a slut than I thought.”

You started sobbing again, the reality of your situation hitting hard again as he started to stimulate your throbbing bud with the revolver. It was too much, god it was too much and your mind started to white out at your impending release.

Fuck, did he say something about asking for permission? Shouldn’t you do that? When you opened your mouth all that you could do was choke out a half sob, half moan as you came. Your walls fluttering around his length, your body lurching from pleasure, hips bucking into him even as he stilled.

Dabi cocked an eyebrow at you, “Now what were the rules? Didn’t you need to ask for permission to cum, little mouse?”

Ice flooded your veins colder than the harsh metal as you came back to reality. Your heart rate increased exponentially as you realized just what was about to happen. He was going to put that gun to your head and pull the trigger, and it would either fire or it wouldn’t. God, you hoped it wouldn’t.

You prayed then, to whatever god that was out there, for the gun to dry fire. For it to have landed on any chamber but the one with the bullet. The barrel pressed against your temple as Dabi leaned over you, supporting himself with one arm while the other held the revolver. The room was silent in anticipation and you were too scared to even sob now.

And then his expression changed, a warm and gentle smile graced his features and for a moment, for a fleeting, hope-filled moment, you thought it was all some sick joke.

Click.

You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding as the trigger clacked uselessly. A dry fire. Thank fuck. You couldn’t help but to pant, or was it hyper-ventilating? The only thing you were sure of was your own fear and that his dick was impossibly harder than before.

He was getting off on scaring you, on playing this dangerous, sick game where your life was on the line. You felt nauseous at the thought, which was exacerbated by the laugh he barked out.

“S’all good, y’see! Remember to ask next time, doll, or ya might not get so lucky!” Dabi flipped the cylinder out, spun it again, and clicked it back into place. Effectively resetting the chances that the next one would be the bullet.

Then he starts fucking you, hips snapping against yours, balls plopping against the fat of your ass as he trails that damned gun down your body again. You sobbed once more, fresh hot tears rolling down your cheeks. He groaned softly at the sight of you, shifting just slightly to pound into that sweet spot again.

Dabi laid the revolver on your belly, causing you to yelp as the metal burned your hot flesh. It was so cold, and your body was so hot that it hurt. He snickered, and palmed both of your tits with large hands and deft fingers, pinching your nipples and flicking them gently. Then he reared back and slapped both of them hard, causing you to cry out and sob more.

You were beyond begging him to stop at this point, and as he continued to assault your cunt in the best of worst ways you felt that coil tighten.

He felt it too, as your silken walls clenched tightly around him. He snatched the gun and pointed it at you, his pace never letting up. “Remember, sweetheart.” And as you opened your mouth to beg him to let you cum he shoved the barrel between your teeth.

Your muffled protests fell on deaf ears as he fucked you over the edge of your second orgasm. You had no say in the matter, you couldn’t even beg around the barrel of the gun and you realized then that the game was rigged from the start. Not that you didn’t already know that, of course, but to be faced with such a harsh reality as your cunt throbbed and gushed, nearly gave you whiplash between the fear and the pleasure.

Your moans and sobs mingle together around the revolver, saliva dripping down your chin and over the harsh metal as Dabi doesn’t relent in his pace. “God you’re beautiful when you’re terrified, I can’t believe how hard you came that time.” He barked out a laugh, an awful and wretched sound, “Too bad you didn’t ask for it, now we get to play again. Are you ready, princess?”

You shook your head as much as you could, not even caring about how awful your face must have looked coated in tears and snot and spit. “Alright, brace yourself, I’m feeling lucky on this one!”

You squeezed your eyes closed again, anticipation making you feel like vomiting. As you did, you became too aware of the assault on your body. Your mouth tasted of metal, gunpowder, and salt, the only sound in the room was your whimpers, Dabi’s taunts, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours hard enough to thump the bed frame against the wall. And your body ached, it hurt in so many places.

The restraints that held your arms secure by your wrists, along with the ones that held your legs apart by your knees and ankles burned and tore into the tender flesh there. Your back was aching from being held in this position for so long, and you couldn’t feel your fingers. Your cunt, despite being well-lubricated regardless of your own protests, was starting to throb too.

Click.

Another dry fire, as you choked a sob around the barrel. Dabi let out a small groan of annoyance, and removed it from your mouth, rolling his eyes. "Shame," was all he said.

You felt numb after that, your mind shutting down as he continued without stopping. Dabi noticed you still and quiet, oh no. No, his toy wouldn't stop working just yet.

He paused just long enough to reset the cylinder, then placed the revolver on your belly. You didn't even flinch this time. Maybe you'd be more responsive if-

Long, slender fingers wrapped around your throat as Dabi leaned over you, pressing his weight on your esophagus as he fucked into you harder and deeper than before. Your eyes widened as blood flow was restricted.

Spots clouded your vision and you attempted to struggle, to make him move his hands, for anything to stop this. You didn't want to die.

Just as you thought you would black out, he relented, drawing those hands down your torso to palm once again at your breasts. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as you coughed and sputtered and gulped in as much air as you could.

"No checking out on me, darling. I want you here and conscious when I pull the trigger," as if to taunt you he picked the gun up, waved it around nonchalantly, then pressed the barrel beneath your chin.

"And since you were so rude before, I'm going to give you a free one. Isn't that nice of me?"

You avoided eye contact, looking anywhere but his wicked grin. He didn't appreciate that,rearing back with the butt of the revolver and bringing it down over your jaw.

Hard enough to make you cry out, but not to break anything. "You should be thanking me," he hissed, hips still snapping against yours. "Get talking. I wanna hear how grateful you are."

You spat at him, saliva and blood that landed on his chest. "I'd rather you pull that damn trigger twice than thank you for this."

"Oh? So she's not broken yet, I see. Good, good. Twice? 'S that what you want, princess?"

You shouldn't have said that. What the hell were you thinking getting all cocky now? Maybe it was a poor attempt to seize some power back, maybe you just wanted it over with.

He pointed the gun down at you, pulling back to support his weight on his knees as he did so. Fuck, why did that send fresh heat to your cunt? Why did it turn you on so much? This whole situation was fucked up beyond belief, but...some deep and messed up part of you was enjoying it.

You stared down the gun with tears and snot and blood and saliva dripping down your face. And then you noticed it- the position of the bullet.

You see, what most people don't realize is that the way a revolver is constructed, if one should play a game such as this, and are able to look upon the gun at such an angle, you can see exactly where the bullet is in the cylinder.

Assuming he would reset again after the first shot, you should be safe. You would be fine. Right?

Without warning you gushed around Dabi's cock. Pussy throbbing and squirting all over him, making him groan. "You're so filthy. You really do get off of this, you fucking freak."

He threw his head back in a sick laugh, running his other hand through his hair, and regarded you with a twisted expression of...exhilaration.

Click.

This time you didn't flinch, because you knew. This time you stared him down and looked right into his eyes as he pulled the trigger. This caused him to quirk an eyebrow,and his smile grew so large that it ripped the staples in the corner of his mouth.

Spurred on by your newfound confidence, his hips stuttered. Was he going to cum? Finally?

"Mmm- fuck doll, you're so much fun. I'm gonna make such a mess of this slutty pussy."

Click.

He hadn't reset the cylinder, he pulled the trigger without warning but the gun didn't fire. Maybe you would be lucky after all.

As Dabi reached his high, his mind went blank. Every pump of seed from his cock matched with a pull of the trigger. He didn't even notice if and when the gun went off, he didn't care. Too involved in his own pleasure as he absent-mindedly clicked over and over and over while coming down.

"Ahhh, that was fun, doll." He said, pulling out and letting his cum drip down your cunt, "thanks for the good time."

[rosesareviolentlyread]

Bakery Box Boy Intro

CW: BBU, modern slavery, hypothermia, vague past references to abuse, this is a pretty light one WC: 1486

This is based on a post I can’t find again about a bakery that gets a box boy! This series will mostly be focused on recovery & fluff, that nice angst that comes with the struggle to heal. Jasper is a refurbished box boy, and I might do some pieces or flashbacks of his previous owners, but otherwise this will mostly be a comf/recovery series. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! I’ve got a few pieces drafted for this already that I’ll be putting out over the next few days. Thanks to @moose-teeth and @whumpywhumper for beta reading!

847650 felt so, so cold. It was all he felt now, besides tired. The bindings on his wrists, holding them in place in the box as he tumbled and shook and turned in transport, blended in, just another piece of the block of ice that made up his body.

It hurt less though, now. The shivering as rain seeped into the box, soaking around him until he feels cocooned in dampness that freezes first against his skin and then in his skin. It had made its way through him like a serpent, moving through his limbs until its icy poison made his ribs tighten like a vice around his chest, making it hard to breathe. After that, it seemed to slither so deep in him that it was him. Icy numbness incapable of anything. It felt like peace, somehow, leaving him with nothing to do much more than wait, no thoughts besides fighting the drowsy feeling for a reason it was getting harder and harder to remember. 

The frozen world that had become safe, and comfortable, abruptly shattered as he felt himself tipped, the world up-ending himself. He would’ve cried out, if it weren’t for the way he was slammed into the side of the box, pushing out his shallow breath into coils of frosted nothing in the air, setting his skin alight again with pins and needles of agony. 

He couldn’t be aware of anything, even as the world came flooding back in through the sounds of voices and rain and road and movement. It was just a blur, bookended by a second thump as his box slammed harder, throwing him against the other side in a way that felt like it shattered every bone in his body. Still, no sound came, no movement, as he existed only to suffer in his crystallized cocoon of a body. 

For long moments, his brain scrambled, struggling even to find the focus to breathe, let alone listen to the sound of swearing and latches being undone. 

He could only find that as worthy of focus, when the damp walls were unwrapped, and warmth flooded in like mist, sending his body in further pain as molten awareness filled the comfortable cold, pushing it out of him. 

Someone was talking, someone important and 847650 struggled to focus on why. 

“Oh my god, you’re soaked”  The words were spoken with horror, sending panic coursing through 847650 as he recognized the tell-tale tone of a mistake.

This is his owner, his owner towering above him, gray hair and pinched face and shaking hands. The sight makes the breath catch in his throat. He had fucked up. He had fucked up for his new owner before he’d even left his box. 

Adjusting to the light, he can see now it’s a woman, an older one. Hair with more gray than blonde sits loose on her head, damp strands hanging limp. Wrinkles and smile lines dot her face like the memories of a life lived long, but not easily. But her expression. Her expression is stern, and immediately recognizable to 847560, down to his still cold bones. 

Upset.

Fix it, his brain screams from a place of terror, and he tries to force out apologies on dry frozen lips, but it only comes as a wheeze, a whimper squeezed into raw air. 847650 shakes now, and tells himself its from the cold. But memories slam against the walls in his mind, sending shivers down his body. He wants to wilt away, but pulling away from an owner’s touch is forbidden. He isn’t sure how much he even could in the touches that feel gentle but only because his skin is like a shield of icy rubber still. His body feels stiff, unmoving.

Which isn’t good, because the next thing she says is, “Can you get out of there for me? These old bones aren’t as strong as they used to be.” A hand is outstretched, a confusing contradiction to her words. 

It’s like moving the arms of a doll, rather than his, as 847650 twists, putting his arms on the lip and trying to balance on the prickling sensation to push himself up. But all he succeeds is falling out of the box with a pained yelp as the wood slips out from the barely controlled limbs. 

But instead of the ground, warm arms catch his shaking body. “I gotcha big- well, you really aren’t that big, are ya? Just a skinny bean pole.” He looks up and her smile is tight, and strained, the words nervous. 

847650 twists out of her grasp until he’s all the way on the floor. “‘m so’y” the words finally come on numb lips, as he sees the big wet spot on her sweater, the one that had felt so soft and is now covered in dirty rain water. “I-I ‘an do it” He tries to push himself up, but the lingering effects of the drugs, the cold, leave his head spinning, and he slips in the water spilled on the wood floor, landing back down with a thump that sends another jolt of pain. It’s more intense now, the warm air having soaked away some numbness, but only enough that everything feels like pins and needles again. Tears prick his eyes, and he squeezes them shut as he tries to breath through the pain with a whimper.

“Oh shhh, shhh, it’s ok. Oh dear- I’ve never done this before, I just- you stay right there, I’ll be back.” It’s a blessedly easy command as the footsteps retreat, but he can’t stop the screaming in his brain about how much he has messed up. How many mistakes he’s made in painfully short minutes. He tries to pull himself together, to think of what to say, but all he feels is white terror. 

It’s too soon when his owner comes back...and drops something warm on top of him. Gentle hands rub through the fabric, soaking up the damp and cold as she coos gently with sushing noises at him. 

“There, let’s get you all nice and dry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were supposed to come until next week.” 

847650 doesn’t understand. Is this a precursor to punishment? He was a week early causing problems, being bad before he even was for this owner. But she doesn’t sound mad. She sounds...nice. 

Maybe..maybe she wasn’t his owner? Maybe she was another pet? But she didn’t have a collar, and he’d never met a pet this old. It was so hard to just think right now, with his brain feeling like it’d been left in the freezer.

“A-are you ‘y ow’er?” words tumble out ill-formed, even as he tries to enunciate. To be right. 

The hands stop, adjusting the towel so he can see her more properly, and he struggles to not shake more in fear at the loss of such foreign kindness. “Oh, oh, I’m really bungling this up, aren’t I? I’m sorry, my name’s Adele Brooks, yes, I’m your owner. But, you should call me Della.” 

And then. And then, she smiles at him, a real smile, without a trace of anger or sadism, so warm he feels his limbs tingle, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“W-wha’e’er you wan’ i’ ‘a be Miss ‘ella.” It was a risk, but he didn’t want to seem rude, using a nickname for an owner. It was unfathomable. He was already rude enough forcing her to dry him off because his body wouldn’t cooperate. 

“I- oh, right. They make me name you, don’t they? I read it online, thank god, since it looks like the booklet is ruined.” He feels enough of his limbs to manage sitting up, feeling her drape the towel around him. It’s...sad. To lose the touch, some deep part of him aching for reasons he doesn’t know why at the loss. 

She pulls a face, squinting at him. For a second his heart skips before he sees her smile return. “How about...Jasper. You look like a Jasper to me. What do you think?”

Does he look like a Jasper? What does a Jasper look like? He didn’t know if he did, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. So, instead, he just nods, hesitantly, hoping that’s enough of an answer. 

“Well then, Jasper, why don’t we get you a bit more warmed up? Hmmm, what would you think about a warm bath? I thought they’d..well, have you come more...decent, but you look like you might fit some old things I’ve got laying around.” The hand reaches out again, an offering, and gently pulls him - Jasper - to his swaying, numb feet. He feels light-headed still, shaky, but he determines he will not mess this up. Not make anymore mistakes.

Not if he gets to keep feeling the foreign sense of warmth that had touched his chest with his owner’s smile.

[jamespotterthefirst]

For Lost Time (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2K Premise: They continue to make up for lost time after their encounter in his car. Set during the events of Book 2, Chapter 12 

Warning: Strong Language and NSFW content. Please use discretion and caution when viewing this work. By viewing of this work, you consent that you are 18+ .

The fog clouding the glass had cleared almost entirely by the time they deemed it time to go inside. They haphazardly replaced their clothes in the small confines of his car, lightheartedly teasing each other until they shared a final kiss. Before their bodies parted, Ethan glanced down at her one more time, unable to keep a joyous smile at bay. The streetlights outside the car cast a golden glow on her as she glanced back at him, eyes alight with happiness, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. 

He couldn't resist the urge to kiss her again. It was one that was all too familiar to Ethan, except this time, there were no obstacles that stopped his lips from moving enthusiastically against hers. 

He groaned as she pushed her body closer to his. 

A mere kiss was all it took for every part of his body to hum with need for her again like a live wire. Lilac must have felt it too because her eyes were darker as they pulled apart, one fingernail coiling playfully around his tie. 

“You should come inside.”

The spike of sheer euphoria that coursed through him at the words almost left him speechless. Ethan, however, still had the words to lean in a whisper the filthiest turn of phrase he could think of. 

It worked because in seconds, they were out of the car, rushing through the rain to go inside her building. They made it to her front door in record speed, especially considering the black high heels she wore. The sleek contraptions did wonders for her legs and he decided then that he wanted them on through every filthy act he was about to perform. 

Unable to resist, his hands found her hips, fingers digging slightly into her dress as he pulled her close. 

“Unlock the door fast,” he murmured hoarsely against her ear. A thrill of satisfaction buzzed through his veins when her hands fumbled with the keys, clearly affected. “Unless you want your neighbors to see me taking you against it.”

Her responding sigh made him grow even harder against her backside, his lips pressing hungry kisses along the column of her neck. Vaguely, he was aware of how desperate he appeared, hands urgently roaming her body, but he found that he didn't care. 

Lilac didn't seem to mind either because as soon as she opened the door, she took his hand without ceremony and guided him straight to her room. 

“Miss my body already?” she teased when he pushed her against the door as soon as it clicked shut.

Ethan almost didn't hear the taunt, busy as he was tugging off her dress and kissing every inch of exposed skin. “Can you blame me? I've been missing it for months.”

As if to drive that point across, she rolled her body against his just like she had in the car less than an hour ago. And just like in his car, their bodies crammed and quivering with need, Ethan groaned. 

“I've been missing yours,” she confessed in a sinful whisper. “You're all I thought about when I touched myself at night.”

A low, guttural curse escaped him, lost against the tops of her breasts. 

“Shhh. My roommates are home so you'll have to be quiet.” There was amusement in her breathless voice. “Think you can manage it, Doctor?” 

Ethan raised his head from where he tugged at her bra with his teeth to raise a quizzical eyebrow. “That sounds more of a challenge for you. I'm not the screamer out of the two of us.”

The heady way in which he whispered it made her hips rock against his involuntarily. 

“I seem to remember otherwise.” The coquettish glint in her eye made him harder still. 

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“One you'll lose, yes.”

What promised to be a signature witty reply was lost in a moan as Ethan moved his lips to her ear and all but growled, “Turn around.”

Despite the bravado, she obeyed at once.

Wasting no time, Ethan firmly took her hips and steered her towards the dresser at the other end of the room, the scent of her hair as intoxicating as the curve of her ass pressing tightly against him.

 Their eyes met through the mirror before them, a questioning look on her pretty face. She no doubt wondered why Ethan had chosen to pin her against a dresser, roughly bending her over to balance on shaking arms. The truth was, he had spent too much time fantasizing about having her on every imaginable surface and he planned to make good on those ideas. 

A bed was decidedly at the bottom of his list of surfaces.

“Ethan,” she moaned when he all but tore her dress off the remainder of the way. 

“Shhh,” he said hotly against her ear, parroting her earlier warning. “It's already not looking good for you and that challenge.”

Before she could reply, he took her knee and hoisted it onto the surface of the dresser, exposing her body to him. The sharp stiletto of one of her black heels dug into his thigh. Lilac let out a small gasp that quickly turned into a soft, wanton cry as his fingers pushed the thin lace of her thong aside and teased at her folds. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing how wet she already was. 

“Only for you.”

A primal satisfaction overtook him at those words. His fingers slid and tapped with expert precision, drawing out the most maddening noises from her. When he used two fingers to tease her entrance, her supporting arms quivered, her body arching deliciously against him. 

“Ethan, please,” she said in a ragged plea. Their previous banter forgotten, he steadied her with one hand and slid two fingers inside her. 

He moved slowly at first, intending to savor the way he could still make her body sing, even after months of being apart. Soon, however, the speed and pressure of his movements increased, mostly at her urging. 

“Fuck, Lilac. You're so—” 

He couldn't finish the husky, senseless thought because Lilac demonstrated exactly what he meant by pulsing tightly around his fingers. Despite foolishly thinking he could exert control over her, Ethan allowed himself to fall at her mercy. 

As her pleasure peaked, she doubled over, her dark hair falling in curtains over her face. With one last cry, she quivered against his movements until she rode out the high. It was lucky the rain slashed loudly against the windows or her roommates would have undoubtedly heard her. 

He gave her a smug smile through the mirror. Lilac, looking flushed and blissful, rolled her eyes lovingly. “I still didn't scream,” she pointed out. 

Ethan took that as another challenge because five minutes later, she was on the verge of doing just that. He had her perched on the dresser, her thighs open to him, her back arching up from the surface. Ethan, on his knees like some kind of supplicant, met her gaze as his devilish tongue lapped at her folds.

“Ethan,” she cried, her hand delving into his hair. The light tug inspired his tongue to enter her, lavishing every hot inch of her body with the attention it deserved. Lilac cursed, writhing her hips desperately against his face. 

“Never get—” She moaned but tried again. “Never get rid of the beard,” she implored in a broken whisper. Ethan almost grinned and replied by taking the swollen nub in between his lips and sucking briefly. 

It was all she needed to climax again. 

“It's not fair.” Lilac hopped off the dresser moments later, legs trembling.

Ethan steadied her with ease, arching a brow. “Not fair? I thought I was being rather generous.”

Lilac pulled at his tie, shaking her head. “It's not fair that you're still fully clothed.”

Ethan laughed, leaning in to kiss her, his lips taunting her in a way that made her groan. Without further preamble, she made quick work of his shirt and tie, both falling in a heap to the floor. A smirk that was all wickedness pulled at her lips when she divested him of the rest of his clothing, the evidence of his arousal smacking against her hip. 

It was Ethan who was at a disadvantage now, fully naked while Lilac was still clad in her bra and panties. In one swift movement, he remedied that problem, using his teeth to slide off the straps of her bra. It was far more than she could take. 

“Fuck me, Ethan,” she pleaded in a heady whisper. 

He complied by swiveling her body around yet again, their eyes finding each other through the mirror . They started at one another with such intensity that Ethan felt his hands tremble against her hip bones. As soon as she bit her lip enticingly, however, he took himself in his hand and teased her entrance until she trembled. 

Soon, every ounce of his self-control had been spent, his body pulsing as desperately as hers. Unable to wait another moment, Ethan pushed himself inside her inch by glorious inch. Buried to the hilt, he pressed his forehead against Lilac's shoulder. 

“You feel so good,” he said hotly against the curve of her shoulder. 

Lilac moaned as he began to move in measure strokes.

She gripped the edges of the dresser as his movements increased speed. With every thrust, the mirror rattled dangerously against the wall. If their mingled cries and moans were not enough to alert her roommates, perhaps the smacking of their bodies would. 

Lilac's body gripped him firmly from all sides, eliciting a dark curse from Ethan. The erotic little way she moaned his name was proving detrimental to his plan of lasting as long as he could. 

“Faster,” she cried. 

His thrusts became shallow and pointed as he obeyed. Ethan watched through the mirror as her body bounced to the rhythm of his movements, her eyes closed blissfully as she raced to her release. 

“God, Ethan,” she cried. “You're so—” Her voice broke off as he drove into her with invigorated zeal, his lustful hand taking a firm grip of her right breast. 

“Finish the thought,” he murmured hotly in her ear. 

“You're—” 

Another calculated thrust and another cry.

“I’m what?”

“You're so big,” she finally managed.

Ethan cursed.

“I’m so close,” she breathed. 

“Good,” he growled.

“Ethan, you’re going to make me—” the last words broke into a series of moans as she finished around him. 

The sounds she made were the last push to his own release. With a guttural groan, he gripped her tightly against him until they both rode off the high. 

When they pulled apart, Lilac dropped into the mattress with a content sigh. Ethan laughed, joining her. 

“I missed that,” she admitted with a grin. 

He watched her expression closely, relieved to see genuine joy there. “Me too,” he said, leaning in to kiss her nose. 

Before either of them could say anything else, her stomach growled loudly. 

“Hungry?” 

She laughed, looking slightly embarrassed. It was almost comical to Ethan as she was currently naked in front of him. 

“Starving. We skipped dinner with all of our…” she trailed off, smiling slightly. “...catching up.”

He chuckled, rather liking the term. If they were making up for lost time they still had a long way to go. “Let's go out and get something.”

“Okay,” she said, perking up. At a brief pause, she wrinkled her nose. “But please, no more bland foods. I can't eat plain white rice again. I will scream.”

At this, he laughed fully, shaking his head. “What are you in the mood then?”

“Tacos,” she said without a thought. Ethan nodded and made to stand up. She reached for his arm, a serious expression on her face. “Real tacos. If you give me this hard-shell, ground-beef nonsense I won't make it, Ethan.”

He scoffed though the effect might have been ruined by the way he grinned. “Of course. Who the hell do you take me for?” 

“A white guy from the east coast?” she said innocently. 

Ethan laughed, having lost count of how many times he had done that in his brief time with her that evening. As his laughter subsided, however, he could feel the tendrils of dread that still lingered starting to take root again. The events of the past few days, seeming a distant memory only moments ago, began to fog his consciousness once more, despite his every effort.

Lilac met his eye, perhaps sensing the serious edge in his demeanor. Without saying anything, she took his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly. 

“We…we will be okay.” The words were directed at him but Ethan suspected she meant them for herself too. 

Ethan glanced at their joined hands and nodded, believing it for the first time in months. 

_______

Author’s Note: I don’t know.

Thank you for reading this! 

Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for your help with this one! 

_______

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[snidgetwidgeon]

My excitement rivalled Impa’s here when @jabberwockyface brought this scene from my story to life. It is a true delight and I adored the addition of the cuccos!

I have been working on my longfic for quite some time now and was only intending to publish when complete, but this art has me so pumped I thought I’d drop a ‘trailer’ XD

Please enjoy Chapter 1 of Insurrection, a ZeLink story set mainly after the fall of Calamity Ganon

The Horizon

Impa woke early and sighed as she looked up at the large wooden beams in the ceiling of her house. One of the small, lidded lanterns hanging there, usually alight with a soft, golden glow, had gone out during the night. No matter, she thought. An oil refill would just be one of the mundanities to be dealt with over the course of the day. She had always been an early riser, though for the past two decades or so, her aged bladder was demanding she be up at sparrow’s fart to cater to its whims.

She was nestled atop her three red pillows which were stacked like a pyramid. This was where she liked to stay these days, meditating and even sleeping. Her granddaughter, Paya, had long since had the upstairs bedroom to herself.

Rising to stand atop her pillow tower, with quite a few bodily creaks and vocal sound effects, Impa hopped down. She gently removed her large round hat and placed it in the vacated spot, then saw to her ablutions before a morning walk. She poodled around the ground floor of the spacious living quarters, which also doubled as the town hall. Having the largest house in the village was one of the perks of being the Elder. Her seating platform was centrally located toward the rear of the room and looked out across a spacious, open floor plan. Dark blue mats decorated with a diamond pattern sat neatly aligned in rows and served as a comfortable place to sit when village meetings or festive gatherings took place. Her pillow tower looked straight down an aisle, lined with a blue rug, toward large double doors that led outside to the veranda.

Set in a free standing wooden frame behind her perch was a canvas tapestry. Its earthy color palette and tribal art style depicted a very specific history of the Kingdom of Hyrule. There was a large monster embroidered in the center, and it was flanked by what seemed to be a divine person on the left, and a warrior on the right. There were hundreds of machines surrounding them and in each corner were strange animals ridden by pilots of varying races. Due to the nature of the design, it was unclear if they depicted any of the races residing in Hyrule today.

The platform was flanked by two staircases which rose to the back of the house and then turned on ninety degree angles to meet in the middle at the top. To the right and left of her platform on the outside of the stairs were four posts topped with frog guardian statuettes. They bore the red Sheikah symbol on their bellies, an open eye drawn in a minimalist style with a central tear. Various banners and lanterns hung from the rafters, and low shelves lined the walls. Like the other dwellings in Kakariko Village, furnishings and household items were sparse as most Sheikah lived a simple and humble life, free from clutter.

Impa regarded her wide and wrinkly face in the water basin that sat on one of the low shelves. The reflection reminded her of how much time had passed. She splashed the sleep out of her eyes and made her way upstairs to check on Paya, as she did every morning. She favored going up the right staircase, so she could come down the left in a satisfying circle.

Reaching the second floor, she went over to the bed against the back right corner to look upon her sleeping granddaughter. The young woman usually slumbered well into mid-morning as she tended to pray until very late at night. Impa pressed her forehead against Paya’s and their matching, but different colored Sheikah eye tattoos touched. Though she hadn’t meant to cause a stir, Paya yawned and whispered, “Grandmother?”

“Shhh, it’s still very early, dear,” Impa cooed. “Go back to sleep.” She wanted to tell Paya that she stays up much too late praying outside to the village guardians. But she knew the young woman was doing her best to help bring success to their courageous Hero. He needs all the help he can get, she thought earnestly.

Satisfied that all was well with Paya, she headed back down and paused to view the large painting which hung above the low shelves on that side of the house.

The verdant marsh it depicted was spotted with just a few trees and a grey range of hills in the backdrop, topped by fluffy clouds in a blue sky. Toward the rear of the landscape, to the left and right of the center of the canvas, were two weathered stone ruins indicating that this area had not always been a marsh. Spread out in the foreground were some strange looking, bell shaped machines. The one closest to the viewer on the left side of the frame had a single eye-like protrusion in the middle of its bucket-shaped head.

They were all partially sunken into the marsh, becoming overgrown by time. The furthest one had a single, tentacle-like limb sticking out from its wide base, as if it had once been going in that direction. Overall, they seemed oddly out of place- yet also part of the greater scenery. Impa sighed and wondered, like so many times she had sighed in this spot before, if that fateful marsh would ever again reclaim being just a beautiful field.

Time to get moving before breakfast, she decided as she headed for the front door. She had just started to open it before realizing she had forgotten her hat. She tut-tutted herself as she headed back to claim it. One had to look proper if going outside. Her large, straw hat had a very wide and circular red brim which swooped up into a tall metal ornament that brought it to a point. The Sheikah symbol was prominently featured in red on the front. It also had five chains hanging from the brim with axe blade-esque ornaments that swayed metronomically as she walked. Placing her beloved hat on her head, she headed outside.

She was greeted by a bright, blue summer sky and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the golden glow of sunlight spilling over the valley walls. She never tired of this tranquil vista. Tall, steep mountains with weathered, rounded peaks flanked her view to the right. These were aptly named the Pillars of Levia. She followed a flock of ducks with her gaze as they flew over the mountain vale in a perfect v-formation. They passed a lone peak on the left which towered above the forest on the hill behind the village. This small mount had a more flattened mesa at its peak rather than a weathered mound like the others. Another group of birds she couldn’t make out through the bright sunlight swirled around the top.

As she descended her long front steps, she felt content, taking in the sounds and smells of her home. The breeze which blew through the valley from the west carried with it the scent of the grassy slopes and the wooden chimes that were suspended from ropes between posts all around the village, were gently teased into their soft rattle by it. The cuccos added their crow to the morning chorus.

At the base of the steps was a wooden-framed, open gate. She tilted her head slightly to the side so that as she passed under, the ornament of her impressive hat could avoid catching on the three banners hanging there. On either side of the gate were some young plum trees. The lovely white blossoms they produced in spring were something she looked forward to seeing every year. These plum trees, as well as the others scattered around the village, acted as the residents’ protectors, just like the frog statuettes. They also symbolized endurance and prosperity, two values which Impa had instilled in her people for the better part of a century.

She nodded to the guard who kept the late night and early morning watch at her gate. He was adorned in standard Sheikah attire, a pair of beige trousers and a tunic with a high back collar and red trim. A dark blue undershirt could be seen that matched the blue diamond-shaped pattern on his straw hat. His hat was much different than Impa’s in that it appeared to be a woven disc of straw that he folded over his head and strapped under his chin. It also sat prominently forward to allow for his high, white bun to stick out at the back of his head. Some red chopsticks poked stylishly out of the side of his big bun.

Cado returned the nod with a short and respectful bow. “Lady Impa.” He waited for the Village Elder to take several paces before retrieving his quiver from against the gate and followed at a polite, but observant distance. Though her residence was always guarded, he felt he should be extra vigilant about her safety when she ventured out, especially since there had been an unexplained theft not too long ago.

He checked over his gear as he followed Impa through the canyon pass that led north out of the village. On his back he carried a darkwood Phrenic Bow, good for long distance accuracy. On his waist was sheathed an Eightfold Blade, the traditional, single-edged sword of the Sheikah people, and one of the remaining vestiges of their ancient technology. Etched at the blade’s base was the tell-tale eye symbol, believed to offer the user an extra layer of spiritual protection.

Impa walked along at a slow but comfortable pace, enjoying the sound of the breeze whistling through the canyon walls. As she approached a large open gate, one of three marking the entrances to the village, she paused at the sound of a rustle. She looked back at Cado who had drawn nearer, with one hand reaching for the handle of his blade, ready to react to the disturbance.. She merely smiled and shook her head. After taking another step, a lizard dashed out of a tuft of grass and made its escape up the canyon wall.

The north canyon did not lead out of the village as such. After about a ten minute walk, the narrow walls fanned open to a natural platform which offered a scenic, if slightly restricted, view of Hyrule due to the high cliffs on either side. The serenity of this place and the breathtaking view overlooking Hyrule had inspired the community to recognize it as a sacred site. Here they paid their respects at the graves of their loved ones. Unlike Hylian graves, which tended to spread out over an area, the Sheikah piled narrow, upright stones on the left side of the clearing. They were placed without any inclination to create neat rows, and their jumbledness added a certain charm. The only markings were caused by the passage of time, demonstrated by how weathered and overgrown with moss they were.

To the right was a single, large tree, its shade offering a welcome respite to those who visited during the hottest hours of a summer day. Just past the tree stood a simple wooden fence. A precaution for children, or perhaps for those foolish enough to get too close to the drop off overlooking Lake Telta.

At this time of the morning, the sun had yet to reach the clearing, so it was still in the shadow of the cliff walls. Impa slowly shuffled up near the fence, her head bowed in respect as she passed the graves. To offer Impa privacy with her morning prayers, Cado held back just before the canyon opened up.

Goddess Hylia, she prayed, keep Princess Zelda safe within your womb. Lend her your strength so that one day, with the aid of the chosen Hero, she may overcome and banish the Calamity. Even now, as over the course of a century, the Princess was trapped in the castle, bound in an endless battle of wills with the malice of Ganon. Impa would never forget the night the poor young woman had come to the village in ruins.

In those days, she had been assigned as an Adviser to the Royal Family of Hyrule. Her duties in this capacity focused mainly on heading the research into various ancient Sheikah technologies. Her older sister Purah and another scientist, Robbie, ran their own divisions under her guidance. Princess Zelda had eventually joined their ranks as well after she showed a great aptitude for scientific research. During her spare time outside of devotions, she possessed an unrivaled curiosity for a wide array of subjects, which was beneficial to the research teams. Having such a high connection within the Royal Family meant that their work was well funded continuously.

Their efforts were in answer to a prophecy that had been delivered to the Royal Family. It spoke of the revival of a legend known as The Calamity, a primal evil which had risen to plague the land ten thousand years ago. King Rhoam was hoping to use the same means their ancestors had to defend against the possible return of The Calamity. The more they uncovered, the more they realized the legends were true.

Relics, which came to be known as Divine Beasts, were unearthed in various locations across the land. Impa’s teams began an intense study of these artifacts, as well as the many Shrines that dotted all of Hyrule; though they were, as yet, unable to ascertain how to gain access to their inner sanctums. They also uncovered the smaller, autonomous Guardians. Robbie took a great interest in these contraptions and even brought some back to working order.

But Calamity Ganon had outsmarted them.

~~~

As the sun was setting, a young Impa and her team of scientists were concluding their experiments for the day and packing up under the stone pavilion in the castle courtyard. Suddenly, a large rumble echoed around the area, followed by a short earthquake. Everyone fled out from under the roof in case it collapsed but immediately froze in shock upon seeing the castle being engulfed in a swirling pink and black miasma. It circled around and took the shape of a boar-headed demon. A cloud continued erupting into the sky and started to spread, mirroring the overwhelming sense of dread everyone was now feeling. No, we’re not ready!

Before they had time to react, globs of malice erupted from the castle and began to rain down on the ground. The creature roared menacingly to the sky from the epicenter as if to announce its freedom and dominion over all. Impa watched a large glob soar over them like a meteor. She turned northwest to follow its trajectory. Is it possible it was headed for Rito Village?

Someone screamed and she snapped back around to see that the stationary Guardians they had been working with had become active on their own. They were glowing magenta with an evil energy, their heads spinning back and forth as if they were calibrating. Her instincts kicked in and she ordered everyone to grab the most important things. “Take the research! We must get it safely to Kakariko!” At once, people ran in all directions trying to gather their most important work.

Purah ran over to her younger sister and looked at her frantically. “Impa, the Guidance Stone!”

Impa closed her eyes and bowed her head. “We should only save what we can-”

Purah grabbed her arms and Impa looked back up at her in surprise. She was hardly ever so serious. “Anything we take from here will be useless junk unless we have the Guidance Stone to access it. This is not a discussion. It’s a necessity and you know it.”

“Fine. But just us. I’m not risking anyone else going in there.” She looked up towards the high pointed towers of the castle, some now covered in a dark ooze.

“Fine,” Purah acquiesced and started to walk away. “Just us, and Robbie.” Robbie, who had been stuffing schematics into a satchel whipped around at the sound of his name.

Impa grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her back. “What did I just say?!” Suddenly, one of the Guardians stopped spinning its head back and forth and now focused its single blue eye on the Sheikah women, who were too wrapped up in their stare-down to notice.

Robbie paled. “Oh... shit!” They had seconds. His eyes darted around for something, anything... There! A Royal Guard, easily identified by his red tunic under a gold embroidered dark blue tabard, was running their way carrying a large, half-bodied shield.

The Guardian began emitting an ominous beeping noise and a red laser targeted Impa. Robbie pounced on the guard and grabbed his shield away. “Sorry, my man!”

Purah gasped when she saw the red laser on Impa’s shoulder, and utterly terrified, yelled, “Jump back only when I say!”

Impa’s eyes widened in fear as the beeping got faster. Robbie scrambled over to them as the Guardian made a piercing noise, and blue energy shot out of its eye with the intent to destroy. There was a massive ricochet as Robbie parried the energy back at the Guardian with his pilfered shield. Its eerie pink glow fizzled out and it blew to pieces, cogs and gears flying everywhere.

“WOOOOO!” Robbie exclaimed. “Yeah!” He pumped his fists and stretched out a bit. “Man, I saw the Champion do that once and have been wanting to try it ever since.”

Impa, who had ended up huddled on the ground with Purah behind the thrill-seeker, now stood and pulled her sister up as well. “Right, so it’s just us, and Robbie.”

She watched as the rest of the Royal Guard’s unit arrived and set upon the other stationary Guardians before they also had the chance to start working. Robbie returned the shield to the guard he had ambushed and instructed him on the technique to parry the blasts. “The shield should withstand a number of hits this way,” he explained.  

Impa’s mind was a flurry of questions. Was the miasma poisonous? How did it take control of the Guardians? Could they make it to the Guidance Stone?

The Royal Guard unit had now taken out the other three legless Guardians, but she feared it was a small victory. The research team tried to settle now that the immediate danger in the vicinity was over, but every noise set them off, causing them to pause and look around like prey at a watering hole.

She then heard members of the Garrison yelling from the Western Gatehouse, “They’re coming out of the pillars! DOZENS!”, “Hylia above, they’re headed for the town!”

Her stomach flipped over as she thought of those monstrous contraptions overtaken by evil. The very machines that were supposed to protect them were instead destroying everything in their path. All those people...

They had to get out. Now.

Her researchers started to panic after also hearing the desperate cries. She had to focus again, lead them. She addressed them in her authoritative tone, “Everyone, stay calm. We’ll make for the docks. The south exit is... compromised.” Impa looked over to see the Royal Guard leaving to heed the cry from the Western Gatehouse.

“Sir Karane!” she called out. She ran over from under the pavilion to hail the Knight who had just led the assault on the stationary Guardians.

Karane held out an arm to stop her men. When the last one fell into line, she turned a pair of steely blue eyes toward Impa and crossed the same arm over her chest, tilting her head forward in respect. “Adviser.”

Impa regarded the soldiers, some of whom seemed itching to get to the battle. Luckily, she had a better fate in store for them. “The ancient tech research team requires an escort. It’s imperative we get this material safely out of the castle.” Karane spared a glance at the scientists stuffing papers and artifacts into any available containers they could find.

“We have a possible escape route via the docks,” Impa continued. Best case scenario is obtaining some horses and a cart for this gear,” Impa continued.

Sir Karane bowed curtly and then turned sharply to address her unit, her red braid whipping behind her. “You heard her men! We are now on special assignment for the Royal Adviser! Three of you with me,” she gestured to the men on her left. “We’re going to commandeer ourselves a ride. You four, make sure the way is clear to the docks. The rest of you escort our scientists!” She held an arm out to Impa and they clasped each other’s wrists.

“Thank you, Sir Karane.” Robbie and Purah came up beside Impa and she nodded their way to indicate to Karane that they would be working together. “We must retrieve the Guidance Stone. We’ll do our best to meet you there. If these things find you,” she looked towards the felled Guardians, “then leave without us!”

“I’ll give you an hour.”

Impa nodded. “If we don’t make it, there is another stone at the Royal Ancient Lab. I imagine they are doing the same and taking what they can.” She regarded the remaining regiment. “Can you spare your fastest guard from this lot and have them instruct the other team to rendezvous with us in Kakariko?”

“A solid plan, leave it to me.” Karane walked away and yelled, “Konba! I hope you’ve had your rushrooms.”

Impa then left her team in good hands as she went to fetch the Guidance Stone with her sister and Robbie; who was grinning, as he’d acquired himself another shield.

It was a rather large blessing that when they arrived at the docks, the research team was still there, unharmed. It seemed like they got ahead of the Calamity just enough to slip out the back, though the same couldn’t be said for the residents of Castle Town. Impa tried not to think about it as she helped shove the cart with the Stone and its activation pedestal onto the boat.

They made it across the river in the two boats which had been moored at the docks, and battled their way up the sloped bank. The ones who weren’t pushing stared blankly across the river at the scene of destruction unfolding before their eyes. The ones who didn’t want to see busied themselves with helping. Once they reached the grassy Irch Plain, they moved quickly without resting to scale the Elma Knolls. These would at least provide them some cover before heading east. It was unsettling to be so close to a pillar behind the castle, but it appeared that, at least for now, the invasion was focused on Hyrule Field.

After retreating to her village, which was currently safe in the mountains, Impa had sent out a search party for Zelda. She stood in the same spot near the graveyard under the tree, looking in horror at the castle across Hyrule Field. It was still engulfed in a swirling black and magenta miasma. The giant pillars, the existence of which she was aware but had never seen before they had risen out of the ground, were angled toward the castle. They had originally been meant for protection and housed the Guardians that, in the past, defended Hyrule. But all the Guardians had been turned against them, and the pillars were now menacing rather than a comfort. She thought they looked like the fingers of a demon come to enclose the castle in its grasp.

At the base and to the left of the ominous cloud was a wide, orange glow. Castle Town was destroyed; engulfed in flames.

~~~

When Zelda was later escorted into Kakariko, Impa discovered she was there on a mission, and had come bearing a request. She was a bit weak on her feet, but refused rest and clean clothes. Even though she was muddy and her white prayer dress was in tatters, she would not be deterred.

The worst had befallen the Kingdom and she just had one hope: that their Hero would return one day, as she saw when the Master Sword spoke to her. She sat in Impa’s old house at the time, bathed in a soft yellow light from the lanterns. She explained to Impa and the other scientists, her friends, Purah and Robbie, “Link must regain control of the Divine Beasts! Ganon has taken them from us. He controls them now and… and the Champions were… they’re gone.” Her hard stare and exhaustion made it look as if she was going to cry, but at this point she was out of tears, trying desperately to replace them with determination.

Impa felt a weight pool in her gut at the news. So the malice she had seen heading for Rito Village was meant for Vah Medoh, and spelled Champion Revali’s doom. She thought of each Champion, having returned to their Divine Beasts, only to find a deadly trap. She was silent for a moment, unsure; wondering if she should offer comfort or if that would merely be a distraction at this point. Her sister was fiddling with random items she could reach on the table, but rather than be annoyed, she knew it was Purah’s way of dealing with stress.

Zelda then gave a weary sigh and continued. “There’s a chance that Link may not retain some of his memories while in the shrine, so I have an idea of how to help him when he wakes.”

Impa nodded and silently agreed with Zelda’s sentiment. It was when he wakes, she thought, not if he wakes. It was best to be thinking positively in such dire circumstances.

“Purah,” Zelda looked at Impa’s sister, who stopped braiding the frayed threads of the tablecloth as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I sent the Slate with Link and the Sheikah who found us to the Shrine of Resurrection. He’s going to need it when he awakens.” She paused and then added, “For guidance and access.”

She thought back to her discovery of the towers underground, the existence of which she had not yet been able to discuss with anyone due to trying to keep her research a secret from her father. He would have her only praying to awaken her power, rather than try to help in any other way. So she had been biding her time, not knowing that it would soon run out.

Now, there was only time to act, so she focused on the most important things and didn’t bother to elaborate. Telling Purah and Robbie about the towers was pointless anyway since only Link, as the chosen Hero, would be able to access them.

“I need you to take the contents of the Compendium out of the Slate and keep them in your Guidance Stone. Hopefully the images, or visiting the places where I took the pictures, will help him remember things.”

Purah agreed and nodded, “The Guidance Stone will keep them safe.” She stood from her chair and looked over at Robbie. He seemed to be lost in the shadow of self-loathing, head down and fists clenched at his knees, all previous bravado gone. “Robbie, let’s go see to Link. He’s not going to heal himself.” Robbie looked at Zelda sadly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. Purah snapped his attention away. “Quick smart!”

They made to leave the house and prepare their things when Zelda called out, “Purah wait! The last picture in the Compendium. Can you delete it but keep a paper copy like the one you made of us before? When the Champions were alive and happy. He should remember that last. It was where he… where I…” She tried, but couldn’t bring herself to talk about what had just happened, “it was where we parted,” she finished, while lowering her eyes in emotional defeat. “I don’t want him to be overwhelmed right after he returns to us.”

Purah blinked her red eyes, suddenly feeling trapped into a sense of responsibility that felt heavier than putting Link into an untested machine. That’s going to be fascinating- Focus Purah!

“I… of course I can make a copy, Princess.” She looked furtively over to Impa. It was one thing for the Guidance Stone to hang onto something in its database, but she, personally? She thought of the state of her workspace at the Royal Ancient Lab, which probably didn’t look so different now that it had most likely been reduced to rubble.

Impa knew her sister well and fought off a massive eye-roll in the presence of the Princess. “Once you are finished in the Shrine, bring me the picture and I will keep it safe for Link,” she offered reassuringly.

Purah visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, Sis.” She prodded Robbie to open the door as he was nearest.

Robbie slid it open and before stepping out, softly spoke to Zelda. “Good luck.” He couldn’t manage much more than that.

Purah looked back at Zelda, looking so small and forlorn, and stuck her chin out with conviction. “Zelly,” she said, “You give that Ganon bastard what for. And don’t get dead!” She followed Robbie out and the room suddenly felt heavier in her absence.

Impa placed her hand on Zelda’s shoulder, and though the young woman was doing everything she could to remain brave and strong, she was shaking. Impa was certain that there was a good amount of fear behind that shaking, but if any part of it was due to lack of nourishment, she wasn’t having it. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink before you go.”

Zelda’s head snapped up. “No, I should leave right away. I’ve already stayed too long. The more time I take, the farther the Guardians can go. They’re laying waste to the Kingdom!”

Impa tutted, “As if I’d let you face Ganon on an empty stomach. What would Sir Link say!?”

~~~

Since that day, Impa prayed for her Princess, overlooking a horizon that never changed. She eventually married, had a child, and then a grandchild. And though her life had known massive loss, and this sacred ground where she stood was for mourning, it was also a place of hope. Hope that one day the Hero would return, and things would change. As more time went by, she became uncertain if she would see Link again. She had started to seriously consider passing Zelda’s message on to Paya should he wake after her death.

But he had come, and with him, an ever-changing vista as he reclaimed the Divine Beasts from Ganon’s control one by one. His successes were revealed to her when she would come out here to pray. The Beasts aimed their divine light as red beams towards the castle from their respective perches across the land, ready to fire when the Hero finally faced his evil foe.

Now there was only one hurdle left, though it was certainly the highest. Before Link was awake, Impa had given most of her prayers to Zelda. But since his return, she prayed for his boundless courage to succeed in the fight against Calamity Ganon. For if he failed, she couldn’t imagine the dark world her granddaughter would inherit.

Impa finished her prayers and raised the brim of her hat to look at the castle on the horizon. She sucked in a breath as she took in a change to the scenery she’d been waiting to see for a hundred years. The cloud of malice had gone. “Eeeeee!” She gave a toothy grin and smacked her thigh.

At the sound of her shriek, Cado rushed over, his weapon drawn. “Lady Impa, what is it!?” She practically barreled past him at top old lady speed, leaving him confused as to where the danger was. He, too, then saw the castle and chin dropped silently agape.

“Cado!” She yelled, while hobbling back to the village. “Get everyone to make preparations. The Princess is coming!”

She rushed toward the house and almost ran over a cucco that unfortunately strutted in front of her gate. It squawked and flapped out of the way at the last second, allowing her to huff up the stairs. Cado, who was following just behind, picked up his panicked cucco and scratched under her wings until the cuddle calmed her down.

“You’re ok, my lovely. The mean old lady was rude, wasn’t she?” He whispered. He waited until Impa was safely inside before walking across the main path to the Inn to inform Ollie to prepare a suitable place for the Hero and the Princess. Lady Impa would want only the very best hospitality that Kakariko could offer.

Ollie blinked as he groggily woke up from sleeping at his desk, and stated, “Hey, no cuccos allowed in the- wait,” he squinted, “a princess is coming?”

Cado lifted an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance. “I’m holding her, she just had a scare.” He stroked the cucco’s tail feathers. “Did you not hear anything I just said?” The Innkeeper just blinked slowly again, so he raised his voice, “The Calamity is gone, Ollie. The Hero was successful, and now Lady Impa is sure that he is to arrive here with the Princess at any moment!”

Ollie now made an ‘O’ of realization with his mouth and gazed off into space. After a moment passed he looked back at Cado. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Yes. So make sure they have every comfort,” Cado repeated as he turned around to make his way back to his post. He paused at the open door and looked back at Ollie, his cucco now tucked under one arm clucking softly. His stern stare implied that he needed affirmation.

“Right, right.” Ollie waved with a dorky half-smile. Cado, now satisfied, slid the door closed behind him. Ollie immediately slouched again. I’ll get to it in a bit, he thought before swiftly falling back asleep. Claree, who ran the tailor shop in town, was convinced he was actually a cat who could shapeshift into a Sheikah because of how often he slept.

As Impa entered the house, she yelled for her granddaughter “Paya! Paya, wake up!”

Paya’s eyes flew open and she kicked her covers off, her feet thumping on the upper level as she rushed to her grandmother’s call. Impa had only made it halfway up the lower steps when she ran into a descending flurry. “Grandmother! What’s wrong?! Are you ok?” Her two red hair bun chopsticks, which she usually forgot to take out before bed, had come loose during sleep and fell out, clattering down the stairs. She paid them no mind as she dropped to her knees in front of the small woman to immediately begin looking for injuries.

Before she had a chance to become too frantic, Impa took Paya’s hands into her own and gave a toothy grin, wherein a gap on the top left added an endearing charm of age. “Be still, child. I’m fine. All of Hyrule will be fine. Our Hero has done it!” She squeezed Paya’s hands in excitement. “Sir Link and Princess Zelda have rid us of The Calamity!”

Paya gasped. She began thinking of so many things at once. Is Link ok? Is the Princess ok? Did her fervent devotion help them even in some small way? How can she help now? “But Grandma, does this mean-?”

“Yes, dear. I think they’re coming.”

“Eeeee,” Paya jumped up suddenly, “I have to clean my room!” She rushed back upstairs and then turned around and came back down to grab her chopsticks. Then she scurried up the stairs again. Impa chuckled as she heard furniture moving and things being tossed around. It was amusing because Paya’s room was already spotless; but yes, a place would need to be made for Zelda. And she would be welcome to stay as long as she’d like.

Impa made her way slowly down the stairs now and back to her pillows. At long last, she thought. Today was certainly no longer mundane. Ah, yes, the oil. “Paya!” She barked as she settled onto the top cushion, “When you’re done up there, one of the lamps needs a refill!” Can’t have the place looking anything but perfect for the Princess.

“Yes, Grandma!” Came the muffled reply.

Impa looked over at the painting on the wall again and thought back to a time when this future was still uncertain.

Link had just returned to her after visiting the place detailed in the frame. He seemed very unsettled and wasn’t his usual self. Or, at least, he was unlike his new self. He was actually emulating his old self quite a bit. Stoic, measured, and a bit guarded. Zelda was right. It would have been too hard for him to remember so much all at once. He now reminded her of how Zelda had been the night she left to face Ganon on her own, trying to be so brave.

“You’re troubled by what you’ve remembered.” She peered at him from her perch in a way that made him feel like she could tell what he was thinking. “You haven’t lost your courage though. So what’s weighing on your mind?”

Link sat on his knees before her on one of the blue mats, free of his gear which he had left leaning by the door. He carefully considered his answer. Looking down at his blue Champion’s tunic, he let out a soft, ironic sniff at how it was the very same he’d worn that terrible night. The night he almost died. It must have either been remade entirely, or so lovingly repaired, that it did not show any of the damage it had once sustained.

His eyes moved over the painting on the wall and he marveled at how a decoration, which before today was so unassuming and almost lost to the background, could now stir so many emotions from one glance. The Guardians in the frame, which were now still and decaying, had been there in the marsh, glowing magenta under Ganon’s control. Hunting them.

As he remembered, he was surprised at the sense of fear that it brought back. In the past few months he had become proficient in fighting all types of Guardians, especially with the ancient weapons that Robbie had since created. But experiencing that night again, hearing the sound of the gears turning, and the thumping of their spidery legs on the ground as they searched for anything and everything to destroy, that really unsettled him. Perhaps because he had failed.

The Chosen Hero had managed to defeat so many of the machines as he and Zelda fled south from the castle; a feat that no other warrior of Hyrule could accomplish. But they never stopped, never tired. They were relentless. And when he had nothing left to give but his very body as a shield, a golden light and a comforting warmth spread over him, and somehow he knew that he was finally free to relax, to let go. Zelda was holding him, and then there was darkness for a century, until her voice reached him, urging him to wake up.

He focused again on Impa, who, in her wisdom, was waiting patiently for his response. He thought the Princess now seemed familiar. But she also still felt like someone he did not know. “I’m just not sure what to do for her if I defeat Ganon.”

“When.” Impa corrected.

Link smirked, “Very well. When.” He couldn't seem to stop the smirk from turning into a genuine smile as he considered her faith in him. He appreciated the interjection of positive thought, even when it was delivered with a bit of sass.

There he is, Impa mused.

“As her sworn Knight Attendant,” she began, then squinted at him and added as an aside, “should you wish to still honor that oath?”

Link nodded his head forward slightly in agreement, so she continued, “Then it would be best to simply follow her wishes.” She paused a moment and, after considering other possible outcomes besides the ideal, mentioned, “Of course, should she be worse for wear, bring her to Kakariko and we will take care of her. At least here she will have someone who knows her if you have not regained your memories by then.”

Link stood and bowed respectfully before taking his leave. He knew that she had not meant the statement to be a slight, but it still stung. Not remembering his past made him feel like he was failing all over again.

[wendimydarling]

Worship (Chapter Four)

Title: Worship

Summary: August puts on a front, but he finally receives the care that he truly needs.

Pairing: August Walker POV x OFC

Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: Oral sex

A/N: Hey guys look, a new chapter!! I needed some soft!Aust badly. This chapter is being divided into two parts for the sake of flooooowww, cause it was getting hairy there for a moment; thanks @agniavateira​ for that wonderful idea. Also thank you to @yespolkadotkitty​ for the beautiful banner that I COMPLETELY FORGOT to use!

 I should hopefully have the second half to you later this week! Enjoy, my lovelies!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m outside Eden’s door, flowers in one hand and the terrifying and thrilling, mysterious package she had mailed to my place in the other. I’ve knocked three times, but there’s been no answer, so I check my watch again. 7:03pm; I know I was on time. Hmm. 

I try the handle, and the door swings open. This concerns me, as she knows better than to leave her door unlocked; she works for the CIA for crying out loud. I close the door and drop everything in the entrance to grab my gun, chambering a round as I move swiftly and silently through the apartment.

Kitchen is clear, living room, bathroom, bedroom…

As I peek into the bedroom, I see Eden lying there on her bed, curled up in a ball. I can’t see her face, but the way her back quivers as her lungs inhale and exhale, it doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s crying. I click the safety on my gun and set it on her dresser, breathing a sigh of relief as I climb behind her on the bed. She startles at the shift of the mattress, turning to look at me and sitting up, wiping the wetness from her face vigorously.

“Oh my god, August, is it seven already? I’m so sorry. Just give me a minute, and I’ll--”

“Shhh,” I admonish her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Her face crumples slightly, and I can see her fighting more tears. She’s taught me enough that I know what she needs; I lace my fingers with hers, bringing them to my lips.

“Eden… may I touch you?”

Eden smiles softly at me through her tears and nods her head. My free hand returns to her hair, smoothing it down as I cup her neck. I duck down to kiss the salt from her cheeks, slow, unhurried, and gentle. She utters a shaky sigh and closes her eyes, tilting her face and unfolding her body to be closer to me. I take my time, kissing everywhere but her lips and she smiles, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and drawing me into her mouth. Deep, open, and inviting; languid kisses accompany our descent to the mattress. I hover over her, pressing my lips into her supple skin. 

My fingers trace the hem of her shirt, gliding over Eden’s hips as a small huff escapes her nose. I smirk, continuing the light tickles while slowly revealing more and more of her torso. My lips soon join my fingers, my mustache making short work of the sensitive skin on her belly. Giggles join her forced breath, and I look up briefly to see her looking down at me, a smile on her face as she bites her lip. That’s what I wanted. I switch to wet kisses, my tongue tracing a path along her curves upward, and her giggles shift to soft gasps.

I pull the shirt over her head finally and take in the sight of her breasts. Eden is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. After all, she is a garden, and I can’t help but to wander through her breath-taking scenery when she allows me to. 

My mouth surrounds a nipple at once, and Eden arches her back into the feeling. I cup her chest with my hands, kneading her flesh with reverence as I taste her. She is cinnamon and fire, warm nutmeg and flavorful anise. She tastes like Christmas, and I can’t get enough. Her moans, her scent, the way she writhes beneath my body; it all alights a fire in me that I’ve never experienced before. Her fingers tangle in my hair as I lavish upon her other breast, and she shoves me further down, her intent clear in her silent command.

As sad as I am to leave her the valley of her bosom, I know the treasure that waits for me in the cavern of her thighs. The sweetest honey, the most luscious of nectar hidden in the rarest of flowers; it’s intoxicating aroma already reaching my nostrils through the thin cotton veil of her shorts. I kept my eyes on Eden as I peeled the fabric from her body, exposing the fragrant scent of her wondrous mound to the air. 

I can see her arousal dripping over the entrance of her cave and I spread her folds greedily, lapping at the drops in earnest. Eden’s breath hitches and she moans, and I can feel her pulse beneath my lips. Her soft petals are no match for my talented tongue, and they soon swell with need as I avoid the very spot that will release her flower’s delicious juice. 

“August, please!” I hear her cry so I attend to her wants, exploring the depths of her cave with two of my fingers as my lips continuously avoid what she craves. Eden’s hands grasp my curls and I hum into her folds, nipping lightly at them as my fingers strike gold. I can see that she’s close, her head fallen back on the pillow and her eyes shut while her mouth hangs open, her torso quivers as she gasps and bucks her hips into my mouth. I press her abdomen down with my free hand, which only elicits further wanton wails from her as I purposefully ignore her aching clit. 

Because I want direction. I want her to tell me what she wants, I want her to tell me what to do. As much as this is about Eden, it’s about me, too. I desire it, I crave her control over me. I’d never admit it to anyone but her, but to not be in charge for once? To not be required to make decisions, to have the ability to release all control into the hands of someone else and be at their whim and mercy? The thought is highly arousing and liberating. And so I play. I tease Eden, goading her into giving me that satisfying freedom.

“Fuck, August! Touch my clit already, would you?”

Eden’s voice is heady, and full of need.

“As you wish,” I reply, savoring the order. I dive in, pumping her in earnest as I suck her sensitive nub into my mouth. I rub my tongue against it as I suck and add a third finger, watching her stomach heave as the coil within her snaps. Her hands fist the sheets, a delicate cry of pleasure filling the air as she comes around me. I feel the gush of warmth spill onto my fingers and I drop my head quickly, letting the aromatic taste fill my mouth as I lick up every drop of her captivating arousal. 

Eden is gasping, staring at the ceiling as I lazily lick her. I return to her clit and her head is up in a flash, staring at my lips as I work her swollen button into a frenzy. She rises to her elbows, only to fall back down onto the mattress as pleasure sweeps through her again, far sooner than she was expecting or ready to. This orgasm is stronger, longer, and more delicious than the first, and once again I accept every bit of nectar her flower is willing to give. 

Fingers tangle in my hair and I’m forcefully drawn above Eden, her mouth surrounding mine as she enjoys the taste of her need on my lips. I’m so very hard at the thought, but I touch her instead. I haven’t been given permission. I grind against her, hoping she’ll get the hint, and she smiles against me, pressing her forehead into mine.

“Such a good boy,” she praises me, and arousal seeps into my belly. She strokes my face and I stare into her red eyes, wondering what it was that had her so upset. Whatever it was, whoever had caused it, they would suffer a hundred fold. 

“Did you bring the package I had sent to your house?” Eden whispered, running her fingers over my cheek. I swallowed thickly and nodded, searching her face for any sign of what she had in mind. She smiled, kissing me gently before shoving me off of her and sitting up in a sudden display of dominance.

“Then let me touch you, August. Get on your knees.” 

Holy shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

Fan Club: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​ @fucking-hell-cavill​ @brexrif​ @peakygroupie​ @viking-raider​ @constip8merm8​ @daniig95​ @elinalfrida​ @hell1129-blog​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @agniavateira​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @sofiebstar​ @wanderinglunarnights​ @mary-ann84​ @onceiwasanun @luclittlepond​ @thekingstachemademedoit​ @iloveyouyen​ @lestersglitterglue​ @funnygirlthatgab​ @wondersofdreaming​ @yoursecretsmutblog​ @valkavill​ @kevia1000 @trippedmetaldetector​ @lifeofrileyp​ @captaingothgirl1996​ @sasusakubae​ @princess-of-riviaa​ @vivodinson​ @paradisecitychild​ @stuckupstucky​

[flashbackharry]

Here, there and Everywhere

Best friends to lovers

5.4k words

Masterlist

Harry and you were best friends, have been since the beginning of your formative years, Harry has always been there. You were there before his X-Factor days. In fact he asked if you would take his shift at the bakery you both worked at, so he could go and audition. You were at work mopping when he asked you again. The begging has been going on for a few days now. Harry offered to do the most peculiar things for you. “I can teach you how to play guitar so when I become famous you can go on tour with me’’

You laughed, you were only 16 then, but his piercing green eyes and unrelenting ambition got the best of you and you huffed a “Fine” before grabbing the mop from his hands, he grinned and scooped you into his arms.  Little did he know you would've said yes regardless.

“You’re locking up right?” He asked. You slowly nodded.

“I'll be by tomorrow night to let you know how it went.” He said, kissing your cheek and walking out the door.

***

Your whole body was aching. It was a long day of being on your feet and your brain was exhausted from having to use your customer service voice all day. You had just finished sweeping the floor and putting the money in the safe. It was half past 11. Harry said he’d come by. But It was getting late and the boss liked the store to be completely locked up by 12. You waited a little more before leaving him a  voicemail and grabbing your things and walking towards the door. Right when you turned the lights off you heard rapping at the door. It was Harry. You tried to gauge what he was feeling just by looking at his facial expressions but it was dark, the only source of light was coming from a singular lamppost outside.

You pointed to the “Sorry We’re Closed” sign on the window and pouted, gesturing to your imaginary watch that it was after hours.

“Haha, let me in.” He said, his voice muffled because he was outside the glass.

You unlocked the door and he stood there, staring.

“So?” You said, biting your lip, nervous for him.

What happened next happened so fast you couldn’t relay it.

One minute he was staring at you, the next your body was half way in the air, held together by Harry's arms wrapped tightly around your torso while he simultaneously screamed,

“I got through! I’m gonna be famous!”

You begged Harry to put you down through a fit of giggles. You put both your hands on his cheeks, grabbing his face. He looked longingly into your eyes.

“I’m so so proud of you bub.” You said, hugging him again.

“Ready to go?” he asked, once you pulled back from the hug.

“No quite.” You shrugged your coat off and set your bag down on the floor. You grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen. You led him to a stool and ordered him to sit. He did, his eyes never leaving your figure. You rummaged all the cabinets and found two champagne glasses, you went to the fridge next and found some cheap wine. You poured the glasses halfway and handed him his.

“Tonight? We celebrate.” You said, clinking his glass against yours.

You both got drunk that night. Taking the glass with you after locking the store up. You walked the streets late, stumbling and giggling.

“Don’t forget me when you're famous.” You said, pausing once you both realized you were outside your house.

Harry narrowed his eyes, “Can't forget you when you're right beside me.” You smiled at that and hugged him goodnight. You pulled away first, again, there was that pause. You looked at his lips, and bit yours. He narrowed his eyes again, a pout forming on his lips. You were drunk, and exhausted and needed some sleep.

“Good night Styles.” You said, letting him go fully and walking up your driveway to your house.

“Night.” Harry said, his voice laced with confusion. You turned around. You saw him look at the ground, kick a few rocks and walk away, it wasn’t until his shadow was no longer visible did you go back inside.

***

You smiled sadly at that memory now. Heartbroken. That was 4 years ago and today you just found out the girl you've been with for the past year was cheating on you the whole time. You called Harry and when he heard one word spill from your trembling lips, he said he was on his way. You’ve just been balled up on the couch now, reminiscing and trying not to leave her a nasty voicemail, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to even do that. Not sure if it was the surprise of the fact you’ve been lied to this whole time, or that you believed all those lies.

A knock at the door pulled you out from your thoughts. You went to open it and it was Harry. One look at him and your shoulders sunk, you sighed and tears threatened to spill again.

“C’mere.” Harry whispered. Pulling you into a hug. He closed the door behind him with one hand. You stood in the front entrance, underneath the light. It was late.

“Have you eaten anything today?” He asked, his voice sounding concerned.

“Do Cheez-Its count?” You asked looking up at him. Underneath the light, his features seemed more enhanced. His eyes were more prominent, maybe it was because of the situation at hand, but he looked sadder.

“Lets go.” He said. Grabbing your coat off the coat rack, putting it on you.

“Where?” You asked.

“To get some food.” He said, motioning you to put your shoes on.

You did and in 10 minutes, you were walking the streets of London late at night.

It was difficult finding a place that was open so late and so after walking in circles for a bit, you both stumbled on a Chinese Restaurant that was doing take out only. It would have to suffice.

You placed your orders by the window and stood outside waiting. It was chilly out but then again it always was chilly here. After grabbing your food, you and Harry walked across the street to the park and found a picnic table and sat down across from each other.

“How’d you find out?” He said after you guys sat and ate in silence for a little bit. You were just pushing around the food with your fork now, already a bit full.

“The other girl she was cheating on me with found my number in her phone and asked if I was the other girl.” Harry winced like it physically pained him to hear it.

“Ouch, I’m so sorry Y/n. I never got the best vibes from her.” He said, grabbing your hand over the table, running his thumb across yours.

“Yeah.” Was all you said. You sat in silence again.

“Did you love her?” Harry asked, his eyes searching yours.

“I think I was beginning to. Oh God, am I that stupid? Why didn’t I see it?”

“Hey, none of that. None of this is your fault. She's the shitty human being who fucked up, not you, okay?” Harry said, his voice rising a little.

When you didn’t respond again, Harry began to rummage in your bag. He grabbed the journal he gifted you a couple years ago for your birthday, you never left the house without it. He ripped out two pages and pulled out two pens he found in the bottom of your bag. You lifted your head, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. He slid the paper and pen to you.

“We are going to write letters addressed to people we’ve loved in the past and then burn them.” He said, pen in hand, already beginning to write the first sentence.

“This is dumb Haz.” You said, grabbing the pen anway, beginning to write.

“Shhh no talking.” He said.

After writing in silence for about 15 minutes Harry looked up and asked if you were done, you met his eyes and nodded.

He took out the lighter he had in his coat pocket and lit it.

“Wait! Who did you write about?” You asked questioningly. Your mind going through his past lovers.

“Not important.” He said before lighting it again.

“No!” You yelled, walking over to his side of the table and standing beside him, trying to grab the paper. He held it out of your reach. You got on his lap, trying to pull his arm down so you could grab it. Harry crumbled it in his fist, getting up. He was a good 6 feet away from you now.

“Harry that's not fair, you know who I’m writing about.” You said whining a little, hoping he'd fall for it.

“It's not important bub, I’m trying to move on that's all.”

“But you tell me everything, we said no secrets.” You said, actually disheartened now.

“Fine, wanna know? It's Felicity, from year 9 remember? She really did a number on me.” He said, smiling. You weren't having none of it.

“I’ve been lied to enough, Harry, not you too.” You grabbed your things and started walking in the other direction. Harry's entire mood shifted. He ran after you.

“Wait! Y/n, wait up.” He was in front of you now.

“Its you, okay? He huffed. His eyes searching yours.

You looked at him. Not knowing what to do. Your heart hitched in your chest.

“It was when we were younger, when we both worked at the bakery. I had a thing for you..but you never reciprocated so I gave up.” He said in a shaky breath. You remember. You liked being his friend, in fact he was your only friend and you knew it was going to be something so special that you'd never want to lose, so you didn’t risk it. Didn’t want to.

“Obviously I don't feel that way still. You’re my best mate Y/n, I would never.” He said quickly when he noticed you weren’t saying anything. You didn't know why you were hurt by that last statement but you couldn’t help the aching you felt in your heart right now. Anyhow, you quickly shook the feeling and grabbed the lighter from his pocket, setting flame to the letter in your hand. Once you saw the ashes die down and turn into dust, you handed the lighter to Harry.

“You don’t wanna read it?” Harry asked, his voice sounding surprised.

You shook your head.

“Do you want me to?” You asked. You figured whatever he said in that letter could unravel something in both of you and suddenly you were regretting guilt tripping him into telling you.

Harry didn’t respond, instead he just took the lighter from your hand and set the paper alight.

The walk back to your flat was a silent one. Harry spent the night on the couch and you were afraid this was only the beginning.

***

One Year Later:

You never saw Harry so down. He was in the studio, Jeff left the two of you alone. Said you were best at getting him to come up with lyrics. The wound of leaving a serious relationship was still fresh and it wore on Harry heavy. It hurt you to see him so sad, but you knew he needed to be in this state- so vulnerable, it was when he got his best work done.

“Harry?” You cooed from below him. He was sitting on the couch and you were sat criss crossed on the rug, a journal in your lap as you wrote down the ideas that came flowing out of him.

“I know it's tough, but we have to put a dent on the final song today. You're so close. Just write what she made you feel.” You finished.

He looked down at you, and leaned forward.

“Temptress.” He said through gritted teeth. You jotted that down quickly in your journal. Progress.

You worked diligently for the next 2 hours, and may or may not have had a mini dance break to Fleetwood Mac, which in hindsight helped immensely .

“Harry I think you're done…” You said slowly, trying to suppress your smile.

“We're done?” Harry asked.

“Yeah you've got a great bridge, you got down the chorus, you still have to figure out the instrumental part but-” You were cut off by someone's lips on yours.

Harrys.

You were surprised at first. Then you realized your best friend was kissing you. And you were kissing him back. You couldn’t imagine how many times you had imagined this. Then you remembered you were fucking kissing your best friend.

You put your hand on Harry's chest and broke the kiss.

“Harry.. We can’t” You said softly.

“Why not, we've never in the past because there was always someone else, now there's no one else.”

“Wait what?. We can’t because you're my best friend. And you're sad, and just ended a very serious relationship and I’m not your fucking rebound, I’m your best friend.” You said, getting up off the floor. Harry also got up, you could tell he was getting revved up.

“You know we are definitely more than friends Y/n don’t fucking lie to yourself ” He said. You were grabbing your things and he took them from your hands and threw them back down on the groud, taking your hands in his, shaking you a little.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t love me Y/n” He said, his voice shaking.

You pushed him off you and stepped away.

“It's not that I don’t love you, its that I can’t be the one to mess this up, I don’t wanna lose you and I know me and I know you and we will fucking crash and burn Harry.” You bent down to try and grab your things again and this time Harry didn’t stop you. Tears began to slip from your eyes and you wiped away at them while you were putting your remaining things in your bag, your hands shaking.

You felt a gentle hand close over yours. Harry picked your bag up, and grabbed your hand to help you up off the floor. You took your bag from him slowly.

“Will we be okay?” You asked, your voice breaking.  

Harry gave you a small smile.

“We’ll be alright.” He said, and with that you walked out.

***

It's been one week since the kiss that transpired between you and Harry in the studio room.

You talked over the phone later that night and although awkward at first, it was a conversation you needed to have.

You both listed all the reasons why the two of you dating would be a bad idea.

“If things got bad between us I’d have to stop seeing Anne and I don’t think I’m ready to give up Anne.” You said and Harry laughed softly.

“If things got bad between us” Harry started,  “I think Mitch might actually choose you over me.” and it was your turn to laugh.

You went on like that for a little while longer, the sun was about to rise when you both got done talking.

“I’m sorry, you were right. I rather have you in my life as my best friend than not at all.”

You paused and thought about what to say next.

“I love you H, good night.” You said sleepily and hung up.

Things felt different, because they were different, but like Harry said, you’d be all alright.

***

It's been 6months now since the rift in your friendship with Harry happened. From a complete outsider's perspective, you guys were the same, nothings changed. But between the two of you, things were..off.

Harry stopped coming over as much and he struggled with ways to show you affection. Before, he’d hold your hand constantly, kiss you on the cheek, lay his head on your shoulder whenever he got the chance. Now? You were lucky if you got a hug goodbye. Your close friends, however were beginning to catch on that something was wrong.

“Are you sure guys are okay?” Mitch pulled you aside one day while you were over at Sarah's place.

“Yes, we're fine Mitch, I promise.” You said raising your eyebrows back when he raised his.

“Okay...only asking cause he seems.. Different. Sad.”Mitch said softly.

Your heart sank.

“I'll talk to him.” Was all you said.

You were also trying to move on from him, trying not to think about him. You loved him but what else could you do? He initiated that kiss, he burnt that letter to you 6 years ago, he said things would be alright and they were far from it now.

Which is why when Ezra, the sound guy from the studio asked you out on a date, you said yes.

You got dressed, feeling nervous but not because you were about to go on your first actual date in 4 years, but because one way or another, Harry would find out and you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

“Oh how pretty! Someones got a hot date huh?” Sarah said from the couch where she was snuggled in Mitch's neck. Harry must’ve been in the bathroom. You figured this was your chance to leave before he came out.

“Thank you! Gotta go! Wish me luck!” You said and with that you were out the door.

***

After your date, Ezra walked you back to your flat, he leaned down to give you a kiss, you panicked and he ended up kissing your cheek. You started blushing and he looked down, confused.

“Goodnight” You said, biting your inner cheek and unlocking the door to your flat.

“Night.” He called after you and began to walk away.

You turned around, hoping he too would turn around. He didn’t.

The date wasn’t bad, he was nice and knew a lot about music which you admired. Reminded you of Harry. You cursed yourself for already comparing him to Harry but you couldn’t help it. Harry infiltrated every part of your life. You slipped your heels off, sighing at how good it felt, and walked into your kitchen to grab something to drink.

You and Harry already talked about what would happen if you were to be together, but now that you felt deprived of the usual love he encompassed you with, you wondered if it was worth the risk. You were miserable without him, and was this the friendship you worked so hard to salvage? A friendship where you couldn’t even look each other in the eye for more than a minute without looking away, a friendship where he couldn’t even hold your hand. Maybe you guys were always destined to be more than friends.

A knock at the door pulled you away from your thoughts. Maybe it was Ezra returning to give you a proper kiss.

You opened the door, and Harry's face appeared, his eyes were glossy, almost as if he had been crying before, and he smelled of liquor.

“Ezra? Really Y/n? My fucking sound guy!” He said angrily, slamming his hand on the door as he got the last part out

“Harry, I-” You started but he cut you off.

“No, Y/n, you always said it was about not ruining our friendship but fucking look at us! We’re miserable! I’m gonna make this easier for the both of us. We’re done, whatever this” He said gesturing between the two of us. “Was.” He walked away after that. Tears were falling from your eyes now, you called after him but just like Ezra-just like he did when he got back from X-factor all those years ago, he didn’t look back.

You went back into your flat and slammed the door, not caring it was nearly 2 am, and sunk to the floor.

***

You hadn’t seen Harry in two months since he came to your apartment drunk and severed your friendship.

Not even a peek at him in two months. Whenever your friends invited you to things, your first question was always, “Will Harry be there?” If they said yes, you politely declined the invitation.

“You can't avoid him forever. You’ve known him since forever, he's your best friend.” Sarah whined. You were sitting around the dining table making art collages.

“I can damn well try. He wanted this, I’m just respecting his wishes.” You said, suddenly angry.

“Well, do you know what next friday is?” She asked slowly.

“Cinco de Mayo?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“No..” She said, raising her eyebrow at you.

You paused a moment to think. Then it hit you.

“Oh! It's your birthday!” You exclaimed.

“Yes, and I’m inviting the both of you and you're both coming.” The air suddenly left the room as you processed what she just told you.

“It's your birthday so I won't make it about me and my melodrama but just know, I hate you so much right now.” You said getting up and placing a strand of her behind her ear.

“I love you too.” She called after you, laughing.

You spent the next week pacing your floorboards till they had a distinctive creak to them.

***

Sarah's birthday party was a weekend getaway at her parents beach house.

You sat in the backseat, Mitch was driving and the birthday girl was in the passenger seat.

You pulled into the house's driveway, it was a modest size house, the most beautiful part of it was the ocean it overlooked a few feet away. You've always had a fascination with the ocean, it always brought you peace. It was dusk the sun was setting and it’d be night soon.

You walked into the house, you had packed a small bag considering you'd only be here for two days max. You took the room in the attic, it was recently renovated so it didn't look much like an attic but you liked how you still had to pull the stairs down to get up there. You were tired but you felt gross so you brought a change of clothes with you and hopped in the shower, hoping the hot steam would clear your mind.

After your too long of a long shower, you realized you couldn't stay up here during the entirety of your stay, that would make Sarah sad and today was all about her. So you swallowed your pride and went downstairs where everyone was, music was playing and you heard the clashing of plates. Dinner.

You walked in and everyone was around the table. Mitch and Sarah sat side by side, Jeff was there with his wife, Charlotte and Adam were there as well as their dates. And Harry.

He sat next to Mitch, on the opposite side of Sarah. He was teasing them about something because Mitch was pushing his hand away from his hair and rolling his eyes playfully.

“Ah, look who's done from the longest shower ever.” Sarah said, giving you a smile.

You smiled and walked over to take a seat at the other end of the table. You felt Harry's eyes follow you to your seat. The whole room was watching the small exchange between the two of you. You've never felt so uncomfortable in a room with the people you loved the most. You wanted to go back upstairs and crawl under the covers. Your hair was still damp and you had on jeans and a t-shirt you were covering with a zip up hoodie, still you felt bare.

Adam fixed you a plate and gave you a small reassuring smile, you returned it and ate slowly.

The remainder of the night was spent laughing and storytelling, eventually someone suggested we get a bonfire going and now you were all walking down towards the water. Adam and Jeff got the fire going and you helped carry some pillows and blankets down. You all gathered around the small fire. You sat across from Harry. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was a calming one and maybe it was the alcohol working but you felt less tense. Harry had a guitar in his hand and was strumming it lightly. The glow of the fire illuminated his face and he looked so beautiful, you felt your heart strings tug, you swore at yourself underneath your breath and shook your head.

“Any requests?” Harry called out over to the group.

“Beatles. Eleanor Rigby?” Jeff asked.

“Mhmm I dont know that one on guitar.” Harry admitted, his eyes scanning everyone.

“Let it be?” Adam asked, he was poking a stick at the fire.

“So we're sticking with The Beatles?” Harry said, pulling his phone out to search their discography.

“Here, There and Everywhere?” You asked.

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes met yours, he just held it and parted his lips as if to say something but nothing was coming out. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the neck of the guitar, tuning it. You thought he was ignoring you but then minutes later, the beginning strum of the song played softly. You listened softly. Everyone joined in on the “Oooo” parts of the song and Harry sang beautifully.

This was you an important song to you. It was played on car rides at night and on momentous occasions as well as when you had trouble falling asleep, Harry would hum this song in your ear and you’d fall asleep almost instantly.

“There, running my hands through her hair

Both of us thinking how good it can be

Someone is speaking

But she doesn't know he's there”

“I want her everywhere

And if she's beside me I know I need never care

But to love her is to need her everywhere”

…

“Each one believing that love never dies

Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

“I will be there

And everywhere

Here, there and everywhere”

Harry's eyes never left yours during the entire duration of the song. It was painful to keep his gaze, wanting nothing more than to break it. Slow tears were streaming down your eyes now. You didn’t even bother wiping them away. Harry's eyes were also watery. When the song ended, Harry kept his hand on the guitar, he looked down now and you couldn’t do it anymore. You excused yourself and started walking in the opposite direction. Your shoes were off and the sand felt nice.  

You walked until the fire was merely a small speck in the distance. You sat down, close to the water but no too close so the water hit you. You pulled your knees to your chest. You saw a figure walking towards you, it was Harry. He must've also excused himself and walked away minutes after you did. He had his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked conflicted.

He leaned down and occupied the space next to you.

He put his hand in your lap, his palm out. You looked down at it, pausing before lacing your fingers through his. He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it before guiding it to his lap.

“I’m sorry.” You said.

“I’m sorry too.” He said, his eyes piercing yours.

“How did we end up like this?” You cried out, letting out a pathetic laugh while lifting your head up to the sky.

“I don’t know,I do know that I've missed you.” Harry said. You looked at him, holding his gaze, your eyes looked over his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual. 2 months is a long time to not look at someone's face. You decided to just say the thing that's been on your mind this whole time.

“Harry?” You whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder, your hand still in his lap. He was playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

“Mhmm” He murmured, you felt his voice rumble through to youyour chest because of his proximity.

“I love you so much. And I think it's taken me so long to admit that we are just more than just friends because I didn’t want to lose you but maybe it just means I get to love you in a different way. I think we could be more, and if you're willing to try...I would like that.” You lifted your head from his shoulder and pulled yourself into his lap. A leg hanging from each side. You held his face into your hands. He was smiling softly, looking as if he were about to cry any second now. He slowly nodded his head and you felt your hands move.

“Yes, I would like that.” He said, biting his lip.

“May I?” You whispered against his lips, a breath away from kissing him. Harry didn't answer. Instead he closed the gap between the two of you.

Your lips met and danced in a paced and calculated  manner. His tongue wrestled with yours. It was warm and you could taste the bitter sweet alcohol you both had consumed earlier. You pulled away only ever to catch your breath. This was nothing like the kiss you shared almost a year ago, no this one wasn't rushed, this one wasn't a surprise but in a sense, it also was because you weren't just kissing your best friend, you were kissing the great love of your life, your soulmate, the only person you ever wanted to be with. As if making up for lost time, you kissed if this would be your last. Harry pulled away ever so slightly to bite your bottom lip and he moved to your neck, your arms were wrapped around his neck and he put one hand on your neck and the other on your waist only to move you to the sand as he hovered above you, all while his mouth never left your lips or neck.

A sudden noise pulled you two away from each other, you let each other go and looked off into the distance. They were all walking back to the house. Harry crashed on top of you and let out a laugh. He rolled over until he was also laying down in the sand. You were looking up at the sky, smiling to yourself and trying to catch your breath when you felt two hands pull you close to their chest. Harry kissed the top of your forehead.

“I’m so glad we waited all those years, that kiss almost made all the agony worth it.” Harry said, chuckling.

You smiled and put a hand to his chest.

“We should go back, they probably think we killed each other or something.” You said, starting to get up. Harry pulled you back into him.

“Lie here with me, I wanna remember this some more.” He whispered. He looked peaceful and content, you were happy you were the reason. You obliged, placing a kiss behind his ear.

You sat watching the sky and listening to the sound of the waves. It was a while before anyone said anything, your breathing was in sync. Then Harry spoke again.

“Wait, you're not still with sound guy right?” Harry asked, pretending he forgot his name.

You laughed and pinched his side before answering.

“Ezra and No, I wouldn’t kiss you if I was still in a relationship.” You said and Harry smiled at how kind you were.

“Remember that letter I never read about me that you burned?” You asked.

Harry nodded.

“You said you were just trying to move on. When did it start though, when did your feelings about me change?” You breathed that last part out quickly.

“Uh I think it was when I got back from my Audition, we had that little celebration in the kitchen. You believed in me so much and I remember thinking how I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with you. What about you, when did it start?” He asked, running his finger gently across your arm.

“I had feelings for you that night at the bakery but it didn’t solidify until we were in the park that night we wrote the letters, when I knew you at least at some point felt some way about me.” You said, your heart fluttering at the fond memory.

“Can I be honest?” you said, sitting up now.

“‘Always.” He said, his expression matching yours in seriousness.

“I’m worried we’re not gonna be compatible the same as we were when we were friends.” You said sheepishly, drawing circles in the sand with your finger.

“Where you the person I was just kissing? Did you see that chemistry?” Harry asked, lifting your chin with his finger so you’d meet his eyes. When you were starting to tear up again he pulled you into his lap again.

“Hey, were gonna be alright. This time I mean it. I’ve got you and I don't intend on letting you go.”

You grabbed his face again and planted a kiss to his cheek, then his other cheek, then the tip of his nose and finally to his lips. You murmured a low “We’ll be alright” to his lips.

[smearsyd]

Day Again | Sehun | Part One

Kim Haru knows loss. She knows what it means to miss someone, to find out what isolation looks like in the flesh. These things, she expects them and she patiently waits for the day she may wake up and greet them as griefs of the past.

What she does not expect, is the same grief reflected back in another's face. She doesn’t expect to find solace through this person either, nor does she expect to cherish her days with him, rather than wait them away.

— Or —

I am not bothered to figure the why of this story, but instead to focus on the how. For Kim Haru does not know the why of things, and neither does anyone else. She must come to understand that what she makes of things are far more important than why they happened in the first place.

characters:

+ oh sehun (exo), you as kim haru (because names are important)

what to expect:

+ christmas + friends to lovers + fluff and romance

warnings:

+ mentions of death, grief + sensitive topics

length:

+ five parts + 30k plus total 

read it here: (updating… stay tuned)

+ masterlist + part one + part two + part three 

author’s note: 

+ i want to dedicate this chapter to anyone who has lost a loved one or who is suffering due to the absence of another. in regards to the chapter, this is the heaviest it will get. the rest will be way more fluffy and about the healing process. they will also be a lot longer than this one! so buckle up!! 

if you want to be tagged, please reply to the masterlist! 

“Oppa!” She cried out, eyebrows furrowed as she wiped the powdery flour from her fingers onto the material of her shirt. “Oppa! I n-need help!” Her tears fell like dripped honey as she looked at the ruins around her, smashed eggs running on the counter and loose sugar coating the bottom of her feet. She just wanted to surprise her brother–– she didn’t think it would be this hard.

Her brother rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sight before him, coming to land on her small figure as she frantically tried to brush off her soiled clothes. “And what is this?” He teased, reaching out to take her small fingers in his. “Cooking?”

“Oppa…” her voice barely above an ashamed whisper, “I was making your favorite Christmas dessert, but I forgot how…” she trailed off, fixating her eyes on his feet. “I made a mess and now it won’t be a surprise.”

Her brother’s thumb soothed away the beginnings of crocodile tears, his eyes alight like the comforting warmth of a candle. “How about this,” he proposed, “Oppa will help you write down the recipe so you don’t forget it and then we will make it together.”

“You and me?” She questioned like she didn’t quite believe him.

“You and me,” he promised and watched as her smile bloomed back to life.

“Ready to write it down?” She nodded her head animatedly, the pencil fitting like a foreign object in her grasp. “Okay, repeat after me, you’ll need flour.”

“I got flour.” She checked.

“You’ll need sugar.”

“I got sugar, too.”

“You’ll need two eggs, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, eggs are easy to remember!”

“What about honey and pine nuts? I bet you didn’t remember those.”

Right, I muttered, I keep forgetting the pine nuts. Pine nuts and honey, pine nuts and honey, pine nuts and honey… but what else was there? My fingers tapped against the metal cart as I searched up and down the aisle. Sleigh Bells was playing through the store and the aisles wafted the warming scent of cinnamon and pie.

My eyes drilled through the cart as if it could whisper to me what I wished to hear. I got flour, sugar, eggs, honey and pine nuts, but what else did he say? My next breath came out like a pent-up sigh and I found myself deciding to lean my weight onto the silent cart rather than beg it for anymore answers. Twenty years later and I still can’t remember.

If I make them next week, I’ll break our yearly tradition— decorating the tree isn’t the same without snacks. Do I mind coming back to the store? My nose scrunched up as I figured the answer to that.

My fingers inched towards my phone, my mouth going dry as I scrolled through my contacts to find his name. Oppa slid across the screen and then I was listening to the constant humming of the dial rings. My stomach was starting to feel queasy, but I ignored it as a small smile tugged on the corners of my lips; I know he’ll tease me for forgetting. At least I remembered pine nuts and syrup. I scoffed, no Haru, honey, honey, pine nuts and—

—It went to voicemail.

I lowered the phone from my grasp, my hands beginning to tremor with a gut-wrenching plea. Why did I do that? My eyes blurred as I reluctantly brought the phone back to my ear and even though I knew what was coming, I couldn’t numb myself fast enough, or turn away like I know I should.

And then it hit. His voice, like he never left me.

“Shhh, I’m recording,” he had company that day, the boys in his room and me outside the door trying to weasel in. “Hi, I’m obviously busy with more important things, but you can try again if you really want to! No promises!” The recording cut off in the middle of that special open-mouthed laugh of his that made anyone in the room smile. I always thought his voicemail was ridiculous, especially when I was the one subject to being ignored in light of more important things, but now, I’d call sometimes just to hear it.

Forgetting the recipe, that was one thing. To forget this, though?

A small part of me whispered that I had known all along— maybe I had, but that thought was too much in of itself for me to grasp. That twisted kind of heart-in-your throat feeling fell onto me like burning coal and all I could hear was his gentle voice echoing in my mind. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

A warm tear strayed down my cheek, passing through a flurry of curses that I couldn’t seem to contain. Fuck it.

I abandoned the sugar, the eggs and flour, the pine nuts and honey too. Bodies strolled by me, but I could no longer hear the jazz or smell the cinnamon and warm chocolate; his face filled my vision, and the time since I have last seen his smile felt infinitely isolated in a dream that always seems to evade me. Instead, the time that has passed haunts me with a warped jeer.

Has it been a day? A week? A month? What is a year if it’s just a blur of days without him?

I let myself believe that the entrance was the exit from these emotions; let me outside, then I can think of him in the way I wish to— smiling and making cookies in the mess of a kitchen that will always be his more than it will be mine.

The problem, though, was simply getting there.

I felt pulled back by myself, stumbling step-over-step. My legs were jelly, bending and pulling, forbidding. My body wanted me to stay, my body wanted relief, even if it was a simple moment of remembering him. I, however, wasn’t sure I could survive such a thing— for thoughts of him always conjured my last thoughts of him. Those were cold, iced over even. Those thoughts were buried ten feet below.

My eyes focused on the setting sky, and I knew then that I was almost out and free from the shock and fear of what it meant to be so alone. But then I collided headfirst into what felt like a wall of warming wool and hard chest and that setting sky disappeared from around it.

My body sighed in relief, but I exclaimed in shock, quickly pushing myself back from the tall male I had ran squarely into with a stream of apologies flying from my lips.

“Oh god, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” I quickly bowed and hurried away— I couldn’t even pull myself together enough to look at the said male as I feverishly brushed another tear from my cheek. All I wanted was out, get out, get out, get out.

I blanked.

My hand was embraced by another’s and slowly I was drawn into an embrace so tight, so secure, that for a second, fear drained from me. Those same hands that grasped my own began to run soothing tracks down the narrow field that was my back. My muscles eased and a breath filled my lungs that smelled of fresh pine, light cologne, and something so familiar I didn’t think I was capable of forgetting it— that’s when I realized who was holding me.  

“Sehun?”

Shhh, he calmed. “It’s me, just me.”

“Sehun.”

His response came in the form of a hum— to calm me or to calm himself, I wasn’t sure, but I clung to him nonetheless. Arms that hadn’t known touch in so long knitted themselves so tightly through the soft sweater he had on; My hands too, gripped the material like they were afraid to let go.

Maybe I am afraid, maybe I have been for a long time.

We pulled back from one another’s embrace after what felt like the opposite of a transient hour, apologetic nods made to the innocent bystanders trying to fit their groceries around us. But then I looked back and was taking in the pooling warmth of his endless brown gaze and the grip of his fingers winding back through mine. Those eyes of his, they were always so stormy, so conflicted, but never for me.

I didn’t know what to say. Are there enough words to fill a year of silence? Enough to explain why he found me crying in a grocery store like some unstable asshole? Perhaps there were, but he didn’t seem to know what they would be either.

“You look different,” was what I settled on before he could ask what was wrong. He ran a hand through his dyed blonde hair, an unsure gleam crossing his eyes. His sunset-like sweater contrasted nicely against it and he was even wearing a pair of glasses that were different from the boxy ones he wore in grade school. “It looks good, different, but good.” I added as a second thought.

“Yeah?” He smiled one of those small Sehun smiles, the one where he’s actually really happy, but isn’t sure how to show it. There was a list shoved haphazardly in his pocket and instead of wearing his usual clean-cut loafers, slippers adorned his feet. I had the thought that the person inside was the same, but the person I was seeing was unfamiliar. “Jisung and I did it right before moving back.”

My eyes stopped roaming what seemed like new terrain to land squarely on his. “Moving back?”

His shoulders tensed and I could tell that he had things he needed to say, but from the set of his grimace, I wasn’t sure he would. “I’m sorry I didn’t call… We got in a week ago since my graduation was postponed a semester. I got your card in the mail too, I even bought a post card to send back but I never ended up writing it. Jisung kept bothering me about it, he was mad at me for not calling more often…” He trailed off, his voice caked with the word sorry.

I squeezed his finger, “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re home.” I gulped down the feeling of dejected distaste. Had he moved on? Was he able to forget, unlike myself?  We both stared down at the white, grimy tile like long lost twins, our feet shuffling back and forth and my fingers inching to separate, yet begging that I force them to stay.

“I just wasn’t sure how— I didn’t know what— it was hard.” He sighed, coming to look back at me. “I know you understand this more than anyone.”

It was my turn to look sorry, a shame like the shattering of glass overcoming me. A part of me felt relieved, though. He too, must feel the weight that surrounds me, that surrounds him. I can’t blame him for trying to swim to shore, even if it means leaving me to drown.

“Yeah, I would I guess.” I found myself confessing, my mouth filling with an acrid taste. “It’s alright, though, we seem to find one another anyhow.” Sehun gave me a faint smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Is your brother here?” I asked.

He scratched the back of his head in assumed apprehension. “Technically Jisung is in the car waiting. But yeah, I forgot to buy groceries and now I’m stuck trying to figure out dinner.” He let out an exasperated chuckle that fell silent as he looked at me, his head tilting to the side in question. “You’ve been crying, what happened?”

“About that…” I murmured, still not quite believing in my actions. “I did something really stupid.”

“That’s nothing new.” He teased, his head etching with a sarcastic tilt that I hadn’t realized I’d missed.

“Actually,” I huffed, a smile finding its way onto my face despite the situation— maybe it was just easier to pretend than to give it more worth. “I came in to buy the ingredients for my brother’s Christmas dessert, but I forgot—”

“—you forgot the ingredients?” He finished with a slight bend to his lips. I nodded. “And let me guess,” he let out a breathy chuckled, “you got to the pine nuts and honey and couldn’t remember the rest.” I nodded again. It felt like the air had gotten lighter between the two of us, as if we had finally relaxed with one another. His eyes gazed down at me with a soft tenderness akin to lit candles, the only gaze in a room full of people that truly understands. I felt for a moment, that maybe he has done the same as I this past year.

“It’s a good thing I remember it then.”

I couldn’t be surprised, it was Sehun after all and he always was the one to come swooping in last minute. But still, I said: “Do you really?”

“You are the one that forgets things between the two of us, not me. I’ll tell you, but at a price.”

I cut my eyes at him. “And what would that be?”

“Have dinner with me?”  

I pretended to look like I wasn’t completely thrilled, but even as a small girl, I was never able to hide how much I missed him. I guess, in a way, that had always been our relationship. It wasn’t until this moment that I remembered— Sehun, too, was always with us when we made the desserts. He liked doing the last steps because Oppa hating peeling ginger and I was always too small to help with that part.

“Ginger, sesame oil, and soju… you always brought them over.”

His face lit up and it felt like his warmth radiated into me. “I knew you’d remember.”

…

“I’ve missed this,” he spoke quietly. Sehun was turned away from me, cleaning the dishes that had piled up from dinner. Soap was crawling up his arm and I could tell that he was struggling to keep his sweater from falling down the bend of his elbow. It was burnt orange and a little oversized, but I remember him getting it as a present from my brother a few years back. The memory was a warm one— it made me want to smell it, even though I know any traces of my brother was long, long gone from its material.

“Me too, it’s so quiet here by myself.” I rolled the sleeve back up for him and he sent me a small smile of gratitude. He never was one to show too much emotion, usually letting his words express how he was feeling, but now, it seemed he had less to say and more to show.

I could see Jisung, Sehun’s younger brother, asleep on the couch, his hand gripped around the TV remote and soft voices coming from the device. It was comforting, even something so small as them being here feels as if it has brought life to the silent house. A big part of me, though, already felt itself hollowing out, anticipating their departure and the vibrating creaks on the empty, wooden floor. I’ve never felt something so empty before.  

“Do you invite friends over ever?” He questioned, looking over his shoulder to take a glimpse at me. His eyes never seemed to miss anything.

I kept mum and continued chopping the pine nuts. I have never been the best at keeping friends, maybe I was just bad at relationships in general, but still, I felt ashamed for losing the friends I did have. Sehun seemed to take my silence as an answer, a light hum falling from his lips. He turned the water off and came to my side, picking up the ginger to start grating it.

“I honestly didn’t make any new friends either…” He whispered, like a confession. “It feels wrong to let anyone come in his place. I just—,” he stopped, taking a deep breath. “I see him everywhere and there’s still things I go to tell him all the time, but I can’t. Maybe that’s the worst part about all of this,” he sniffed, bumping my arm as if we weren’t talking about such a heavy subject, “forgetting that he’s gone rather than remembering that he is.

“I guess what I mean is that I miss my best friend. I miss him a lot and I miss you too. I miss the three of us together.”

I smiled at him. My eyes were watery, and tears threatened to spill over, but there was a certain kind of heart comfort that came with just talking about it rather than trying to forget.

“I understand that. In a way, I didn’t think I would ever need more than just the two of you. Now that he’s gone and you’re busy with grad school, I feel lost, I guess?” I breathed out, shrugging my shoulders.

I pushed the crushed pine nuts into a bowl and fetched the bottle of soju. The glass seemed foreign in my grasp and even as I popped the cap open, I could hear Oppa telling me not to ever drink any, that we were different than our parents. The small bottle seems powerless now compared to then, but I know he was just looking out for the both of us. Sometimes though, it feels like he spent his life looking out for others, maybe in the end, that’s why he fell short looking out for his self.

“I think,” I started again, pouring the measured soju into the batter before placing it back in the cabinet, “that he would want me to take my time healing instead of rushing into things.”

Sehun hummed, adding his ginger to the batter as well. I thought that we made a good team; the two of us together like this was a comfort I hadn’t felt since he left. “He always was wise like that, huh? Maybe he was even years before his time.”

“So are you,” I returned his arm bump from before. “You always know what to say and when to say it, that’s why you guys worked so well together. The two of you were always so good about taking care of me, and now Jisung too.”

Sehun’s eyes travelled over to his brother’s sleeping form, a cloudy haze taking over his already stormy eyes. “I’m not too sure how much of that is true anymore. I’ve been so scattered these days. I’m still trying to figure out how I graduated.” He chuckled, “And when my birthday passed and I was suddenly twenty six, all I could think about was how we were all just fifteen and fucking around—” he paused, “well I guess you would have been around twelve then, but you know what I mean.”

I smiled and stirred the batter. “Yeah, we moved into this house when I was twelve. I remember Oppa threw a party and all of your friends came over. Jisung was so young, but you brought him along and he ended up just sleeping on the couch like he is now.”

We both snickered from the memory, but Sehun’s eyes turned softer as he looked at his younger brother. I knew all too well what he was thinking. Just as my brother saw it as his responsibility to care for me, Sehun sees it as his to take care of Jisung. The four of us seemed congruent in that way, put on the same path, with the same people, in order to make things a little easier. I guess somewhere along the path, things got a little twisted and we are still trying to work out the kinks.

Sehun took the bowl of batter from my hands and began pouring it into the square dish for baking. He had an apron on over his sweater and at some point, it had become covered in flour as if the bag had been dumped on him. There was a smudge of batter on his cheek too that was the same honey blonde color of his hair.

“Have you considered moving?” He asked casually, slowly working the batter into the pan. I sighed at his question in response, leaning against the cool counter in a slump. He quirked his eye at me with that spit it out look that had my lips pulling up on the ends.

“I have had some serious thoughts,” I drew out. “But, I’m not too sure.”

“Why not?” He asked, seeming somewhat surprised.

His focus turned to me and some of the batter began to spill out onto the counter as his arm relaxed to the side. I jumped to catch it, fitting my hand over his and steadying it back over the baking pan. His palm was warm and soft against my own. I looked up to him, only to find his brown orbs already centered on my own in a penetrating gaze. There was a streak of the pillowy batter laying upon his cheek and a smudge of probably sugar dotted his nose.

His eyes traced the movements of my fingers as I took my hand from his and gently wiped away the smudge of batter from his cheek with my thumb. I plopped it into my mouth and tasted of it.

“Maybe we should add vanilla to the recipe next time.”

Sehun appeared lost in thought, his eyes, however, burned into mine as he followed the path between me and the small of my fingers. His lips tightened before he pulled away, shaking his head slightly as if to clear certain thoughts. Or maybe he was just agreeing with me.

I watched as he placed the batter in the steamer box before coming to lean back against the counter next to me. I thought that cooking seemed to suit his character.

“Anyways,” I breathed out, disturbing the silence that had fallen upon us. “I feel bad about moving out. I mean all of his stuff is here and we made so many memories in this house. Even though moving would be nice since it would be closer to the university and the city, I’m afraid of what he would think if he was here.” I looked around, and Sehun did too. “He loved this house.”

“He did,” he added, “but it’s just a house, and he loved you more. If moving is what’s going to be better for you, then he would want that over you staying somewhere just for him— especially since he’s gone. He’d want you to think of yourself first.”

I sniffed, my nose crinkling in distant distaste. I didn’t think the words he’s gone would ever sound right. “There’s a house,” I finally settled on saying. “It’s really nice and the owner worked down the price for me. It’s actually really close to the neighborhood you moved into.”

Sehun’s eyes grew brighter, “Really? Will you show me?”

I nodded and he followed me into my room where my laptop was. He plopped down next to me as I navigated to the photos. Our bodies were practically resting against one another’s and I could feel his warmth seeping into me. I had the lingering urge to rest my head on his shoulder, but I pushed it down as the screen loaded and he let out a noise of approval.

“It suits you so well.” I could see the smile through his voice even though I didn’t turn to look up at him. “He would want you to get it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Maybe it was his kind words, or maybe it was the fact that his arm had at some point slithered around my body, encapsulating me next to him, but I realized that I trusted him in a way that was much different than the way in which I trusted my brother. With them both, it was natural, but Sehun brought a sort of calming reassurance that spoke further to soothe my mind.

Perhaps it was simply because I knew he was the only other person who shared the same emotions as I did, that could relate to my memories and remember with me the good and the bad. I understood that he too, felt the same way about me.

At some point, my head did find its way to his shoulder and his to mine. We stayed like that for some time, folded around one another, before he spoke.

“You know, we’re going to be okay. Right?” His statement, or his question rather, embedded itself in me. It was the same one I had been asking myself for the past year. The uncertainty in his voice brought out a wounded kind of need to make sure we were, regardless of whether or not I really knew the answer.

I took his hand in mine and he threaded our fingers together tightly. “One day at a time,” I assured him. “We’ll get better one day at a time, even if we get stuck at the beginning and have to start over. You and I will get there.”

“We’ll get there together.”

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Part two of the first words au suggested by my girl, Sima, as demanded requested.

I am Not Happy about this

I'm a very big fan of saying "fuck canon" in favour of my otp happening but honestly ,,,,, the pain is too great to pass up so here we go.

It took months for Hamish to properly open up verbally. When he did, Vera asked about the ring. He told her all about Cassie and Nico, save the bit about the Knights.

It was a few more months when Hamish started visiting the old places he used to love to favourite with Cassie, but they still weren't the same. He didn't mind, though. They were just places now. Places that held pleasant memories. Now, important places are where he goes with Vera.

Hamish is on his way to meeting Vera when he runs into Randall Carpio. The man is crazy, Hamish first thinks. Then, he'd make a good knight.

"Who's the lovely lady? Hi, I'm Randall Carpio, and you are?"

"Taken."

"Damnit, Hamish!"

Vera finds him endearing, somewhat, as one would a toddler. Two days later, Hamish decides to invite Randall into the Knights. Greybeard chooses him and they celebrate. It feels good to have someone to talk to about things only a Knight would understand. He thought about Vera, but after Cassie, he didn't think he could handle it. Besides, Randall looks like he'd take on a wolf without being one of them. He's perfect for the job.

Hamish knocks on Vera's door late one night.

"Are you okay?" "Can I stay here tonight? Please."

Vera obviously lets him in.

"You ever meet someone and you know they've done nothing wrong at all, but it feels like they're trying to replace someone you've lost?" Vers tries a joke, "This isn't about me and Cassie, is it?" Thankfully, Hamish finds the joke funny. "You, no. Cassie, yes. Randall's made this friend and honestly there's nothing wrong with her but . . . it's like she's wearing Cassie's favourite jacket and I can't get her to take it off."

Hamish intentionally leaves out the part where he was the one who opened the doors for Lilith. Vera would find the metaphor much more impactful if she knew Hamish meant Timber.

Hamish doesn't talk much about Lilith to Vera, though it's not as if they get a chance to talk at all. Now with Randall and Lilith knighted, Hamish has found purpose outside of Vera -- taking down the Order. They were what got Nico killed and they were what got Cassie killed. Hamish knew the Order was the bad magic he's supposed to fight. In addition, Vera's just been made Temple Magus and it is a lot more more work than she'd anticipated. Not to mention, having the university in her jurisdiction included attaining the seat of Chancellor. Fuck the social life, I guess.

At least they're always able to come home to each other.

Unfortunately, that too starts falling apart.

Hamish gets pulled deeper and deeper into uncovering the Order with Randall and Lilith, slowly figuring out how to find the pledges and get rid of them. Since he'd told Vera about Cassie, talking about the departed Knight becomes easier. He struggles a bit to explain it all to Randall, but he's able to speak properly and tell Lilith all about Cassie. When Hamish reveals that Cassie had been Timber's champion, Lilith understands. She is harsh and brash and often rude, but she also has a heart to love, no matter how guarded and hidden. She makes an effort to distinguish herself from Timber and from Cassie. Hamish makes an effort to see Lilith instead of Cassie's replacement. Once they succeed on that, their relationship improves tenfold. (Randall is relieved. He was worried his days as a Knight were gonna be filled to the brim with tension and loathing)

Vera gets pulled deeper into the Order. She's sucked into the position she's been granted and no matter how much she tries to leave it for a break now and then, something or the other pulls her back. It doesn't help that the pledges decrease in number every year due to at least one of them dying.

By the time Jack Morton makes his way to Belgrave, things have quite nearly fallen apart. Hamish has stopped visiting an empty house. Vera's stopped trying to call when she finally leaves the temple, only to reach the voicemail of a sleeping Hamish, who's stopped trying to send texts every odd hour.

Given that Jack never actually said Vera's name to the Knights (I believe, and if I'm wrong shhh it's an au), it's no surprise that the the earlier parts of Finals Pt.2 is slightly more comedy than pain. (Let's assume Lilith never mentions Vera's name upon regaining her memories either)

Let it also be known that I, for the life of me, cannot recall how the entire scene plays out, so we just gonna make it up as we go along =)

Hamish is down in the basement when Jack brings a new ally to the den. An injured Lilith is there.

"Miss Bathory." "Bitch." "Fair enough."

Randall is in next, excited to see Lilith back in the den. "Hey! I knew you weren't dead!"

"Randall?" "Vera! Heyyyyy, long time no see, huh? Wh -- what . . . what are you doing here?" "You -- you're one of them? The werewolves?" "Shiiiiiiiit, you know?? Wait, you're not like,, in the Order, are you?" "How long have you been a werewolf?" *guilty face* "FROM THE START????"

Lilith & Jack: 🤨 wtf is happening here

Hamish returns. "Guys, who's. . ." Hamish stares at Vera. For a while, he wonders how she found the den. Then he wonders what she's doing at the den. Then he recalls Jack mentioning that he was bringing an unlikely ally. He'd figured unlikely ally meant someone in the Order. ". . . here?"

Vera shoots Jack a glare. "What the fuck is this, Mr Morton?"

"Uhh . . . I didn't-- I wasn't aware you guys were, uh . . . friends?"

Hamish is still staring at Vera. "This what you've been doing for years? Magic? The Order? That promotion . . . it wasn't about the chancellor position, was it?"

(Lil bit of comedy = Randall: WAIT, SHE'S THE TEMPLE MAGUS??????)

"You say magic like it's evil. Have you ever once thought about the fact that you've been murdering my pledges every year since Miss Bathory was expelled from the Order? Which is more evil, Hamish, protecting magic or killing its practitioners?"

"Your people got Cassie and Nico killed," Hamish hisses, "those practitioners you're protecting are the reason Cassie and Nico died. Magic. Is. Evil."

"Magic isn't evil! I was barely a Magistratus when your ex-girlfriend was killed! Do you think I enjoyed all those respondeo incantations? Wh-- why do you think I started spending so much time at the temple? Making sure I stayed Temple Magus? I am trying to make the Order better. But you? All you care about is murdering my Neophytes. Children."

(Randall: intense wincing as his parents fight. Jack & Lilith: perplexed but very invested in the drama. Jack's a lil upset that he's got plans to go and confront Edward. He kinda wanted to see the rest of that argument.)

"Oh, that's rich, V," Hamish snaps. Despite the clear rage radiating off of Hamish, Vera isn't afraid. The nickname is familiar and welcome. It's home. Hamish, no matter how far he is from her, is home. Doesn't mean she's not got her own barrel of problems to spill.

"Rich?? I'm not the one out here killing people before they get the chance to even live. You -- you -- you are -- you're a monster, you know that?" She says it factually, as if it's something common knowledge.

"Really, V? Are we doing this now?" "Might as well! If we're all going to die, I'm not going down without getting everything out. You know, while we're on the topic of being brutally honest before we die, Mr Morton, your sense of style is horrendous, Miss Bathory, your temper is infuriating and Randall . . . you -- you -- your jokes are lame!"

Funny enough, Randall is most offended. And then Lilith has his attention because she's hurt. "Can you help?" "I don't trust her." "I don't recall caring, do you want me to save your life or not?"

Hamish is pissed as Vera turns to help Lilith. Amusingly, he's pissed because Vera isn't paying him any attention. But there are more pressing matters, like the incoming army. "We have company."

"Fucking Kepler," Vera mutters.

Both Hamish and Randall squint at Vera. "Bitsy Kepler?" "Isn't she a bit . . . fickle and stupid to be in the Order?"

"Oh, you know Kepler too?" Lilith asks, more of a rhetorical question.

"No, V just complained about her a lot." "Don't call me that, Randall." "Sorry."

"They are circling the house. What are they up to?" "Knowing Kepler, something unoriginal."

*sounds of the order throwing burning spells.* The look of awe on Hamish's face as he watches Vera cast a protection spell does not escape Randall and Lilith.

"How long is that gonna last?" "Long enough for us to deal with them."

Vera is already following an undressing Hamish to the doors. "No killing." "No promises."

Lilith stares at the empty doorway. "Are we going to talk about th--" "Nope. Not at all. Never. Anything else. Anything but whatever just transpired."

When they get into the temple and set the Vade Maecum alight, Hamish thinks maybe it isn't so bad. Maybe Vera's right, maybe she can turn the Order around. Maybe magic isn't evil. Vera takes his hand. He gives hers a little reassuring squeeze. Come hell or high water, he'll always come back to her.

It's what soulmates do.

"So, Grand Magus, huh?" "Mhm." "I didn't think you remembered this spot exists."

Vera, despite her new persona of professionalism and perfection, gets down on the grass beside Hamish. She looks at him carefully. Is she doing the right thing? Probably not. But will it keep him safe from her and the Order? More likely than not.

"What is it, V?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Us. What happened to us?"

"Magic," Hamish jokes, lightly tapping his forehead against hers. I missed you.

Vera squeezes his hand twice. I love you.

Hamish closes his eyes. So much trust he has in Vera that despite knowing she's on the other side of the great divide between the Knights and the Order, he still trusts her enough to be around her blind. Vera's guilt starts eating at her insides already. It makes her sick, but she hasn't got a better choice. The alternative is allowing the order to launch an attack on the Knights -- and if the Order could kill werewolves before, they can kill them again. Vera never wants to feel the pain Hamish felt after losing Cassie.

This is losing him, but at least she knows he's alive and safe. Safe from the Order, from magic, from all of Belgrave's dirty little secrets.

She wants to be the one to monitor him, but Grand Magus duties steal her time and attention worse than Temple Magus did. She hates having to leave him in the hands of one of the Medicums, but she can't exactly do it herself, despite wanting to.

"I thought I was the quiet one," Hamish jokes.

"Shh. Some . . . peace and quiet is welcome."

"V, are you--" Vera quickly claps her hand over his eyes. "Sh. Don't . . . don't say anything. Don't open your eyes. I just . . . I just want to see you for a moment."

Hamish smiles and complies. Vera fights to keep her shaking breath quiet. She lowers her hand slowly. Could she spare time for one last kiss? Just one? No. One would never be enough. And she knows that if Hamish kisses her now, her entire resolve will break.

She squeezes his hand twice. I love you.

Before he can respond, Vera blows the powder in his face. She sits up slowly. Dear God, she was sure she'd done something horrible in a past life to warrant this kind of torture. At least for Hamish, losing Cassie hadn't been the product of his own making.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You go to Belgrave University. You're a TA and -- and you study psychology. Forget the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. Forget the Knights of Saint Christopher. Forget . . . Vera Stone."

Vera pulls him up. "Hey, that looked like a nasty fall. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, I think. Thanks."

"Sure." Vera can't help the two subtle squeezes she gives his hand before leaving. I love you. She doesn't want to be there when Selena Durov leaves her class and arrives. She doesn't want to see what Selena says to Hamish, what lies she feeds him and what she does. Vera wants to lock herself in her office and never see another person again.

Hamish frowns as he watches her leave. He wondered what had happened to her that her eyes were so sad. Part of him want to run after her and ask her. Ask her name at the very least. But something keeps him rooted to the spot where he stands.

Who was she and why did he feel like she'd said something very important?

Hamish holds his own wrist for a moment, feeling the ghost of her touch. The slight squeezes he thought he'd imagined.

I love you.

Who the hell was she? And why did he feel like he really ought to know her.

Part 3

Did I win yet, ladies? Or do you want part 3?

@gingersimasnapsandvermishthings @bakulka @everythingabouthatship

See some other soulmate aus I've tried my hand at

[whitewolfandthefox]

Call of the Wild Part 6

Summary: You meet the man who has been hunting shapeshifters

Words: 4.5k

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A/N. Next part, lovelies! Please let me know what you think, reblogs and comments really help me find the motivation to write.

The Sorcerer

You woke slowly, your whole body feeling fuzzy, head hurting. You groaned, sitting up as you lifted a hand to your forehead. The smell of tepid water invaded your senses, forcing you the rest of the way awake. You cracked your eyes open and froze, mind refusing to connect the scene in front of you to where you thought you were supposed to be. Suddenly, your memories of the night before came back to you in a blinding rush.

Kiala coming to warn you, frantic packing, hearing the shouts outside your home, seeing Vissen leading a mob towards you. Friends and family calling for your death, shouting and chasing you. Pain from the blows rained down upon you, shifting, running, hiding, someone help me, please, help, help, help, I don’t want to die-

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, afraid of what would happen if you let yourself sink too deeply. Looking around, you took in your dark surroundings. You were in a small cell, bars forming one side of the room. There was a small bed and a chamber pot, a chair being the only other furniture in the dreary space. The floors were made out of cold stone, the same as the walls. Hearing footsteps echoing around the space, getting closer, you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall, staying as far away from the door as you could. 

A group of men came into view, dressed in dark clothes and armour, except for one. The man in the middle was dressed in intricate robes, a dark maroon embroidered with black detailings along the sleeves and hems. He stared at you in interest. “This is it?” he asked. 

Your upper lip twitched, upset at being called an it, though you didn’t move. A man pushed his way to the front. “Yes, m’Lord, this is the shapeshifter who has been terrorizing our town.”

Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl as you saw who the man was. Vissen.

“Good, good,” the first man said absently, tossing a small bag his way. “Here is the rest of your payment.”

Horror flooded you as you realized that Vissen had thrown you out of your home for money. A growl slipped out of your mouth at that, causing Vissen to blanche and the other man to smile. 

“It does have teeth.” He gestured, and a guard threw your cell door open, the others rushing in. You were quickly apprehended, though you fought, squirming and trying to land blows to free yourself. It quickly ended with you hanging between two men, a third securing you against his chest as the man in maroon robes glided into the room. The man grabbed your face, turning it to examine your features. You growled at him, wrenching your face out of his grip and slamming your head into the nose of the guard restraining you, fighting to get free.

He laughed, a sharp unpleasant sound, ignoring the cursing of the man behind you. You winced as the guards tightened their grip on your arms, keeping you secure between them. Taking a step back, he looks you up and down, examining every inch. You shiver, his gaze is clinical, as if he doesn’t consider you worthy of feelings. At another gesture from him, you are dropped to the floor, pushing yourself away from the men as soon as you hit the ground.

The guards exit your cell, lingering in the hallway as the man seated himself on the chair. You shrunk against the wall, not liking the way his gaze rested on you. After a drawn out silence, he nodded to himself, relaxing back against his seat.

“Welcome to the new world, little creature.” The drawled nickname rankled you. “You have just become part of the research to further the survival of the human race. Not that you are one, of course.” He laughed, a bitter sound.

“You shapeshifters are the key to healing human diseases. With your regenerative powers and your accelerated healing, we could save thousands.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “If I could just figure out how you do it. But that’s why you are here, little creature, to help me discover just what it is that makes you tick.”

“You may call me Master Astarion, little creature, if you address me at all.” He stood as he said this approaching you. “I will teach you what we expect of you during your stay here, so that you will know to behave.”

“I will do no such thing, you bastard,” you hissed, struggling to your feet. The world spun around you as you tried to evade his grasp. His hand brushed you, causing your whole body to stiffen as a wave of burning heat swept through you. You dropped to the floor, writhing in pain at his feet, tears leaking out of your eyes. He crouched next to you, observing your actions with a clinical disinterest. As the fit subsided, your chest heaved with your desperate gasping, struggling to pull breath into your lungs.

 Your screams split the air as he again brushed his hand over you, muttering something under his breath. Lacerations appeared on various parts of your body, skin and muscle splitting to allow the blood within your veins to spill forward, staining your dress and pooling on the cold stone beneath you. Astarion reached into his pocket, staring at you as your back arched off the floor, rigid with pain. It was like nothing you had ever felt, a burning that never ended, setting all of your nerves alight with fire.

“Stop, please, stop, it hurts,” you begged of the man - sorcerer? - who was inflicting this agony upon you. 

“Shhh, I know,” he murmured, almost soothingly. You felt a hand brush down your cheek, but you were in too much pain to care. A pinch to your shoulder caused your eyes to fly open just in time to see the man produce a dagger from his pocket.

In one fluid motion, Astarion buried the dagger into your left shoulder, drawing a choked scream from your throat. Your body slumped, folding in on itself as pain shot out from your shoulder, overwhelming anything else in your body. Sobs wracked your body, breath catching in your throat as you choked on blood, reeling as you tried to deal with the pain surging through your body.

Distantly, you heard the man stand as he brushed his robes off. Stopping in the door, he turned to observe your fallen figure.  “Rest up, little creature, I will be back for you soon.” With that he left, the door to your cell clanging shut behind him.

Curling in on yourself, you dissolved into silent tears, pain overshadowing every thought. Absently, you reached for the warm feeling inside of you associated with Geralt, wrapping yourself in the warmth and trying to forget your situation. As you fell into darkness, you thought you could smell Geralt’s distinctive musky scent, an earthy smell underwritten with the flavour of pine and sweat. 

**~*~*~*~**

Busying himself with stripping and packing Yennefer’s tent, Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see Jaskier chasing Ciri across the clearing as her laughter filled the clearing. “Jaskier, are you and Ciri packed? We need to be ready to leave when Yenn gets back. You know how she is about waiting for you when you’ve been goofing off with Ciri and ignoring your tasks.”

Coming to a stop, Jaskier put his hands on his hips, and offered Geralt an offended look. “I am highly offended that you would even suggest that I wouldn’t finish packing before playing. “ He shushed Ciri as she came alongside him. “I am of course ready to go as soon as you are. Why, it's you and Yenn who are slowing us down!”

Geralt’s lips twitched as a black raven set down behind the bard, ignoring the continuous stream of protests coming from him.

“What about the clothes you have left to dry by the river? You are not bringing those?” Yennefer’s voice caused Jaskier to startle as she appeared behind him. Ciri giggled at her sudden appearance. “Seriously Jaskier, we’ve only been here a few days, how could you possibly have lost them already?

“My- what clothes?” Jaskier spluttered.

“We washed some of your doublets yesterday, Jask, don’t you remember? I was going to remind you, but you were too busy complaining.” At Ciri’s words Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, stalking away to retrieve his forgotten clothing, muttering under his breath about stupid Witchers and sorceresses. 

“Did you find the keep, Yenn?” Geralt demanded, turning to the woman as she fixed her dress from her flight.

She looked up, meeting his gaze as she studied him. “I did. I think they have a new shapeshifter they are experimenting on; they brought someone into the keep late last night.” This revelation drew a growl from Geralt. “You have never been so invested before, Geralt. What changed?”

He said nothing as he continued staring at her before looking away. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that-”

He cut himself off as he staggered, hand flying to clutch at his left shoulder as pain shot through it, as if stabbed. 

“Geralt!” Ciri was immediately at his side, supporting him as he regained his equilibrium, Yennefer also moving towards him.

“I’m ok, my shoulder just burned for a moment.” he reassured her, patting her shoulder as he stood, pulling back his tunic to look at his shoulder, marked with nothing but old scars. He raised his eyes to meet Yennefer’s gaze. She was looking at him with a perturbed expression on her face. 

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his shoulder before hissing as she snatched her hand back as if burned. Stretching her fingers out, she examined them before looking back at her companions, both staring at her with confused expressions. “I felt someone else’s presence there, just for a moment. It felt almost like a…” she trailed off. 

“A what, Yenn?” Ciri inquired, Geralt staring at her with an almost guilty expression on his face. 

“Never mind, Ciri. I thought I felt something but I was wrong, it wasn’t what I thought. Would you mind going to help Jaskier collect his clothes? We need to leave soon.” She smiled gently at the girl as she sent her off after the bard before spinning and pinning Geralt with a glare.

“Geralt! I can’t believe you! Why would you leave that incomplete? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Geralt stared back at Yennefer with an unreadable gaze as she ranted at him. “You should know better! Of all the things you could have done, leaving that unfinished was the absolute worst choice! You could get seriously hurt if anything happened!”

“I didn’t know I had started one!” Geralt stalked away, tension radiating from his posture. “And I know the dangers, Yenn! I wouldn’t have left it unfinished, I would have…” he trailed off as Yennefer came to stand beside him, posture softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know, Geralt,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

**~*~*~*~**

You drifted on a haze of pain, never really surfacing, never going under. You could hear voices moving around as you felt yourself being shifted.

“Show me your other form and the pain will stop. Just change, I need to see your demon form, little creature.”

Sobbing, you shook your head. 

The pain increased, back arching, nerves feeling as if they had been set alight. 

You couldn’t give in.

The burning pain came again, screams tearing their way out of your throat, voice breaking. You remember pleading, no, please, don’t hurt me, I can’t give you what you want, I don’t know what you want, stopstopstopstop. Stop, I want to go home, please stop, please stop, let me go home, ithurtsithurtsithurts.

Geralt. Help.

Again you reached for that warmth, that string that you felt extending from you, cloaking yourself in its presence. You floated, trying to distance yourself from the pain, time passing as you sheltered within the presence.

“Just change, you little bitch! I need to see your shape shifter form!”

You could feel the knives, the pain, the warm blood pooling beneath your body as it cooled against the stone. Could feel the hands on your skin, in your skin, poking and prodding at you. Diving deep down, you curled your mind around your heart, hiding deep within yourself to escape the pain.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt fell to his knees, pain surging through him as Ciri cried out, Yennefer reaching for him, concern in her eyes, Jaskier frozen in place.

**~*~*~*~**

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness, your head spinning with blood loss. “It’s coming around, just give it another moment.”

Astarion’s face swam in your vision before solidifying, a sharp grin on his face. “There it is. Welcome back, little creature.”

You shot up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards until you hit the wall. Astarion was crouched in the middle of the room watching you, now dressed in dark pants and a loose grey tunic. He toyed with a dagger in his hand, the same one that he stabbed you with, you realized. Your hand came up to your shoulder, finding the wound scabbed over and tender to touch. Finding it mostly healed, you scrabbled at your arms, finding the same thing there, that the wounds that have been inflicted on you - hours? days? - before were sealed over, thin pink lines the only evidence they had ever been there.

“It’s quite remarkable isn’t it?” The words jolted you from your thoughts, pulling your attention back to the sorcerer. “A few days and you’re almost as good as new.”

“And just to think you disgusting creatures can heal like that. I don’t understand why your kind have been given this ability and my family had to die.” A sneer pulled his upper lip back from his teeth. “But that is no matter. Soon I will discover what your healing stems from and I will be able to share it with the rest of the human race. No one will have to die needlessly.”

As he said this, he approached you, dagger still in his hand. A tear ran down your face but you didn’t move, too tired to muster the energy. Astarion traced your features with the dagger, your eyes closing as another tear slid down your face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine specimen; you have healed exceptionally well, little creature. I will let you rest for now, I need to look over my notes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning, not to worry.” 

Suddenly he struck, burying the dagger in your stomach. Your breath left you as if punched, body curling to protect yourselves from any other blows. At your actions, or lack thereof, Astarion frowned.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrowed, “I thought for sure that would make you change.”

With his last remark, he stood and left your cell, leaving you lying on the floor, shivers wracking your body as the blood cooled beneath you. You reached a shaky hand down to press it against your stomach, hissing when the blade sliced your palm. You lay there for what felt like hours as the blood slowed, scabs starting to form around the wound. You grasped the hilt, yanking it out as you muffled a scream into your shoulder, pressing as hard as you could with both hands.

As the heaviness pressed in closer, you could feel the familiar warmth consume you. You went to it willingly, felt the world shift. You opened your eyes to see the world with sharper sight, heaving yourself to a standing position and yelping at the pull in your abdomen. You nosed at your side gently, seeing blood still glistening in your fur; the skin underneath was intact, although irritated and tender.

Lifting your head, you surveyed the room. The coppery scent of blood was strong, tinged with a bitter something underneath, of what you weren’t sure. You wrinkled your nose at it, not liking the smell. You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the slippery stones beneath your paws, coated in your blood. Your wounds pulled, but the pain was bearable. You began exploring the room, limping towards the edge of the room as your left shoulder protested the action.

It was rundown, an old castle that hadn’t seen occupants in decades. You had explored the surrounding area as a child before someone disappeared, after which your town kept well away from it. You knew that some of the outer walls had started falling apart, and hoped that this one was one of them.

Snuffling along the edge of the floor, you caught a whiff of fresh air. Darting towards it, you found a small hole in the wall, enough to allow a breeze into the room. You wouldn’t have noticed it had your senses not been enhanced.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you would fit through that whole, it was far too small for you. Closing your eyes, you nudged at the hole half-heartedly, despairing that you were so close to escaping, but not able to.

As you pushed, you felt some of the wall give way, a rush of air and dust filling the space. You ducked your head, rubbing your eyes on your leg in an attempt to remove the dust from them before observing the space. Although still not big enough, it was closer to your size now. Your heart lifted slightly as you ducked your head to push at the stones again, using your front paws to push the excess material out of the way.

Suddenly, your head pushed through the opening into the forest, your eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. It was dark out, a waxing crescent moon hung high in the sky providing little to no illumination.

Pulling yourself back in, you pushed the rest of the material aside, widening the hole enough for your small body to fit through. As you were finishing the opening, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Shifting back, you slumped against the wall to hide the opening.

Vissen rounded the corner and stopped in front of your cell. You glared at him as you felt hatred bubbling up within you. This man was the reason you were here in the first place, his greed had driven him to do unspeakable things. He leered at you.

“Bet you are regretting rejecting me now, bitch.” Rage swept through you as you realized that he had done this as revenge. You schooled your features, the anger that was boiling within you threatening to spill over. “No words for me? I’m glad I didn’t take you as my wife now, a beast like you could never love anyone. You just maim and murder; I did the town a favour by ridding them of you.”

“You know nothing -” you cut yourself off, stopping your movement as you leaned towards him, hands itching to wrap around his throat.

“What do I not know?” he taunted.

When you didn’t respond, his smirk grew larger. Something sparked in his eyes. “Too tired to move, sweetheart?” Your skin crawled at his words. “Perhaps I will just have to help you.”

Moving slowly, he unlatched your cell, stalking towards where you sat motionless on the floor. Come a little bit closer, you bastard, and you’ll be able to help me so much more.

When he was within reach, you leapt, pulling at his arms, hands forcing him to the ground as you reached for this throat. In your weakened state, he quickly overcame you, rolling so that he was pinning you to the ground, hands on your shoulders, hot breath against your neck. “Even if you didn’t want me, I will still have you, my sweet.”

You squirmed as his hands roamed lower, tears burning in the back of your eyes. You fought desperately, reaching for the power within you, covering yourself with it like a blanket, body shrinking as you shifted. You sank your teeth into his hand, gripping as hard as you could, letting go when he started flailing, small body flying through the air to hit the wall. You yelped at the impact, pain flashing through you before you rolled to your feet, shaking your head to clear the fog.

He wailed, clutching his hand to his chest as he rolled to his knees. “You demon!” He froze as you regained your feet, a low growl rumbling out of your chest. “I’ll show you! Guards! Help! She’s changed, she’s - ack!”

At his words you leapt, aiming for his chest. Your weight knocked him to the ground, landing on his chest as you snarled, lips pulled back from your teeth. As Vissen flailed, you jumped forward and ripped his throat out with your teeth. The man slowly went still, gurgling as his death rattle left his chest.

You rolled off his body, going still as you stared at the man choking on his blood. You had killed someone. I didn’t mean to! Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Staggering to the side, your front legs collapsed as you retched, trying to rid yourself of the taste in your mouth.

Horrified at what you did, you backed away, eyes not leaving the body of the man you once knew. You could hear the shouts and footsteps getting closer. You turned, rushing towards the hole you had made, slipping out of it and disappearing into the night, the sounds of men rising behind you as the body was discovered and a search party organized. As you ran, you tried to forget the taste of copper on your tongue, forget the body you were leaving behind.

**~*~*~*~**

After Geralt had collapsed, Yennefer had insisted that they stop for the night. Geralt had protested at first, but gave in as more waves of pain washed over him. Jaskier had motherhenned the larger man for the rest of the evening, Ciri tucked into his side. Every once in a while Geralt would flinch, and Yennefer would stare at him with a knowing look. Geralt wouldn’t say anything, just staring back, a challenge in his face. 

Once Jaskier and Ciri had fallen asleep, Yennefer gestured at Geralt, the two of them standing and moving a little farther from their fire. 

“What’s her name?” Yennefer fixes him with a piercing look that said he better tell her what was going on or he wouldn’t like the consequences. 

Geralt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Y/N.” His voice was pained, expression tight. “She was a healer that found me in the woods. I had been injured, ambushed by a monster, and when she healed me, she had a conduit moment. I stayed a few days to help her learn more about our kind.”

Yennefer stayed silent, marvelling at the softness that had crept into her companion’s eyes as he spoke. “She was kind, didn’t judge me for being a Witcher or for being a shapeshifter, even before she knew she was one. It was easy with her, it felt right to be with her.” He turned to Yennefer. “It wasn’t intentional, I just… It just happened.” 

“You need to go find her.” Geralt started at Yennefer’s words. “This could harm both of you and something has clearly happened, I’ve seen you flinching all day. Don’t argue with me, Geralt.” She held a hand up as he opened his mouth to protest. “I need you at your best and you aren’t while you’re separated.” 

His body slumped, a sigh escaping from between his lips. “Okay.” His response was quiet. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Yennefer was surprised; she had expected Geralt to have put up more of a fight on this. This girl really was something if she could make Geralt listen, even when not present. “We will go tomorrow. We are not separating, Geralt, not this close to the sorcerer. I will not risk any of us.”

Geralt nodded as she turned back towards their camp. He followed her to the fire, laying down on his bedroll as his thoughts turned to you. Your face and voice filled his dreams that night; he could hear you calling out to him. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, Jaskier and Ciri were confused when Yennefer told them they were making a stop before they went to the keep where the sorcerer had been hiding, but quickly fell into step when she mentioned something about another shapeshifter. Geralt was even quieter than normal as they travelled, growing more tense the closer they got to their destination. 

When Jaskier started singing, trying to amuse Ciri and annoy Yennefer, Geralt snapped at him to be quiet. When Ciri asked to ride with Geralt on Roach he pulled her up, but only grunted at her questions rather than answering them as he usually did. Realizing the severity of the matter, both Ciri and Jaskier fell quiet, their conversations subdued as they travelled.

It was dark when they arrived, the small pack finally turning a corner to see a little house set back in the woods. Geralt was flinching at anything that spooked him, Roach nervous beneath him, having picked up on her master’s emotions. Reaching the gate, he quickly dismounted, shoulders relaxing as the house appeared to be untouched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached the door, knocking gently to alert you to his presence. “Y/N? It’s me, I’m back.”

“Y/N?” Jaskier whispered, turning to Yennefer. “Who is that?” Ciri popped her head out from behind him, curious as to the answer to her counterpart’s question.

As Yennefer opened her mouth to answer, they heard the sound of a body against wood, the door breaking beneath Geralt’s shoulder as he forced entry to the house, disappearing through the entrance. His three companions quickly ran after him, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Geralt. He was standing motionless in the middle of the trashed room, looking down at something in his hands. Tables and chairs were upturned, books scattered across the floor, 

He turned slowly to look at them, a dagger that they recognized as the twin to his own held in his hands. His face was emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. His golden eyes were full of anguish, a storm of horror and guilt washing through them.

“Geralt?” Yennefer took a hesitant step forward, hand reaching out to do what, she wasn’t sure.

Geralt slowly sunk to the floor, staring at the dagger cradled gently in his hands. At the sound of Yennefer approaching, he lifted his head, face filled with fear.

“She’s gone.”

**~*~*~*~**

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[cringe-phase]

Sisterhood of the Travelling Deleted Scene

This is the deleted alternate beginning of....many abandoned ideas. First it was gonna be a quick one-shot to practice stuff in preparation for a multichapter project, but I decided to just start the multichapter instead. I tried to make this work for the beginning of “One Two Three (Four)”, but I was too sold on Draxum being the cause for Don’s amnesia, so I rewrote it and liked the new beginning better anyway. Then I tried to make it work for two other ideas that I quickly lost interest in for being too serious--I like my lighthearted moments too much. 

Nowadays I think it's destined to be forever unfinished...but I still dig it even without a use...so, here just take it in it's abandoned and unedited glory.

Summary: The brothers stumble upon the Foot Clan and get into a fight on the rooftop when Donnie gets blindsided. Takes place early Season 1.

Disclaimer: characters use the concept of using a crutch as an insult and is not a reflection of what the author thinks.

It had all started so well.

Four brothers were on their way to their go-to pizza joint. The pizza joint was in no way their favorite, it was simply their go-to because it was owned by a Yokai and therefore they could dine in for once and enjoy an atmosphere that wasn’t a sewer. They adored their home and all, but no windows and the same view day in and day out would be a bummer to any free spirited teen. So off they went for some well-deserved pizza and socialization on the same night that the universe decided that today it was going to roll the dice.

It was Mikey that spotted the breaking and entering taking place. The little orange turtle immediately pointed it out, and much to the middle children’s displeasure, Raphael’s moral responsibility steered them to the crimes instead of the pizza. Said displeasure was expressed through groans and claims of “The police can handle it, not every little thing had to be our problem bro”, but was quickly silenced by the reveal of the perps and this week’s villain of the week.

“It’s those flame head guys again. For such a big city, we run into them a lot.” Raph pointed out, scratching his chin as they perched on the building next door.

“I think they have a stealing things obsession--”

“Kleptomania.” The purple turtle interrupted the slider.

“--they’re always breaking and entering when we find them.” Leo ignored his brother.

“I mean, that’s probably in the bad guy job description.” Michelangelo said from his seat on Raph’s shoulders.

“....D’you think they’re hiring?”

“Leo!” Raph scolded and Leonardo immediately shrugged unapologetically.

“Whaaat? It was just a little question.”

“No, you are hereby BANNED from joining the bad guys!” Raph nodded at the finality and jumped to the roof of the break-in-in-progress.

Donatello casually joined his blue banded brother’s side as Raph leapt with Mikey still on his shoulders. Leo glanced at him curiously.

“What do you think the pay’s like? Theoretically.” Donatello asked with an interested tone.

“Better than ours probably, considering we don’t get paid.” Leo crossed his arms to pout. “But Raph said we can’t. Oh well.”

“No,” Donatello smirked and looked at his brother slyly before lightly bonking him on the forehead with his tech bo, “Raph said you can’t.”

“What?! Donnie?!?!” Leo gaped as his snickering brother leapt off to join the rest of their quartet. He pouted as he jumped after him, fully intending to snitch on the purple teammate but immediately getting shushed by Raphael upon joining. “I didn’t even--”

“Shh, Leo, look!” Raph gestured to the turning of the knob of the stairway door to the roof. “Hide, now!”

The turtles had just barely all gotten into hiding spots as the door finally swung open, the hand on the doorknob connecting to a large brutish guy. The Brute held the door open for his skinny partner.

“I thought I heard something out here.” The Brute said, suspiciously looking around.

“I told you,” His Lieutenant said, “You need to get your tinnitus looked at.”

“I don’t think it was that Boss, it’s not even that bad.”

“Then you’re being paranoid.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Boss, I’m onto something! Everywhere we go those turtles show up!”

“Hey!” Although Mikey was whispering, he was doing so quite loudly. “They’re talking about us!!”

“Mikey shhh!” Leonardo slapped his hand over his younger brother’s mouth, nervously peeking back around the structure they had both hidden behind. The Foot representatives hadn’t noticed them, and Leo breathed a sigh of relief. He could see Donatello hidden smartly behind the structure with the door the bad guys had walked out of, ready to move counter to their location to remain hidden indefinitely, and Raphael was camouflaged as a gargoyle perched on the corner of the building just out of the light enough to be a vague shape. He looked to his brothers to gauge what the plan was going to be and ignored Michelangelo’s tapping on his wrist. Were they going to wait out the bad guys and follow them in like real ninjas? Were they going to ambush right here right now? Was Donnie hacking into the building right now to locate what the Foot was even here for?

All of a sudden Leo’s hand was warm and wet. “Ew!” He recoiled his hand back and looked at his little brother, betrayed.

“Hey, who’s there?!”

Leonardo hastily started wiping his hand on his brother’s head, ignoring his quiet protests and peeked out from their hiding spot and met the eyes of the Brute. He yelped and quickly hid again.

“Look! Boss it’s the turtles, I told you!” Brute exclaimed. “They’re here just like always!”

“Enough of your conspiracies, just deal with them!” The Lieutenant commanded as he started folding paper faster than an average human.

Leo swore as the Brute ran towards them and grabbed Mikey by his shell to move him out of the way while he wiped his own spit off of himself. A fist came down on their hiding spot as Leo threw Mikey out of the way and ran the opposite direction to get some distance.

“Leo! Mikey!” Raphael sprung into action as the Brute turned to pursue his blue brother. A trio of origami soldiers poofed into existence and cut him off. “We were supposed to be stealthy!”

“He licked me!” Leonardo complained as he dodged a swing and backflipped onto the roof of the doorway. “It caught me off guard!”

“Mikey!” Raph scolded as he blocked a punch and threw one of his own.

“I couldn’t breathe! He wouldn’t move his hand off of my face!” Michelangelo defended as he ran to assist his eldest brother.

“All of my brothers are evil!” Leo continued on his drama streak.

Donatello emerged from his hiding spot in the shadows and landed a surprise attack on the Brute, his tech bo in its hammer format and sent the bad guy to the ground momentarily. “Can we save the family bickering until after we are no longer in combat?!”

“Why do you say that like this is a game?” The Brute asked from the ground, curious. “This is real life, kid, we could really hurt you.”

“Roll for initiative!!” Donnie yelled as a battle cry, using his bo to vault himself over the Brute and toward the Lieutenant, smacking into a hastily made Origami soldier instead while Raph hurried to cover him.

Combat was successfully initiated. Origami soldiers were created and fists continued to fly. (Do better transition)

“As much as I love the impromptu field test of my new tech bo addition,” Donatello swung his bo with a manic grin, the chainsaw application tearing apart the paper soldiers like they were butter, “We’re going to be here all night if we don’t focus on the source!”

“Oh yeah,” Michelangelo thoughtfully added, “Like the spawners in Minecraft! They’re just gonna keep coming forever.”

“I mean, we actually have a decent handle on this. Plus I’m kinda having fun shredding these bozos!” Leonardo had taken the opportunity to practice some more extravagant swings and flourishes. Since upgrading to a single sword he’s been curious about pulling off one of those fancy spin-attacks he’s seen on some fighting games.

“Yeah I’m down with downing more of these paper pawns!” Mikey agreed, eyes alight as he set some origami soldiers ablaze with his mystical kusari-fundo.

“Ok so we got two for having fun with these jerks for once, how about--”

“Raph would like to hurry and be done here!” Raphael yelled from his side of the battlefield, punching a stray origami soldier as he dodged another punch from the Brute.

“You didn’t have to crash our outings, y’know.” The Brute mumbled.

Donatello sighed as he shredded another group of paper soldiers into confetti before activating his battle shell to initiate hover mode. He flew above the field, his younger brothers immediately picking up his slack and cutting through his share of soldiers, and zeroed in on the Lieutenant frantically making origami man after origami man like a well-oiled machine. Honestly, the speed in which he pumped those out was admirable. But, Donatello wanted pizza and he was bored shredding the same kind of enemy multiple times a minute. 

Spinning his tech bo back into its bo format, Donatello dove towards the Origami-spawner and swung, narrowly missing as the Lieutenant jumped out of the way. The jets of the Battle Shell whirred as he hovered back into the air, glaring down at the man with a cocky grin. A better challenge than the Origami Soldiers, which the flame-headed human kept folding and throwing into the battle as he dodged Donnie’s dives.

Donatello swung again and the Lieutenant ducked and blew a raspberry, much to Donnie’s annoyance. He could feel his eye’s want to twitch but honed his willpower to keep it at bay, honing in on taking this disrespectful villain down.

His tunnel vision left him blindsided by the paper hand that grabbed his ankle and slammed him back to the ground, another immediately jumping into his shell jet pack to sabotage any attempts to flee to the skies. He glared up at the human puppeteer, grin replaced by a frustrated frown.

“Not so tough without your little gadget, are you?” The Lieutenant rasped, now the one with the cocky grin. He circled the turtle, examining the spluttering jets shredding the fingers of the paper soldiers holding it down. “Why does a turtle need a fake shell anyway? Is it like a crutch?”

The “crutch” in question immediately sprang free from the purple turtle’s back, sending it and the paper man attached to it directly into the Lieutenant. Donatello immediately swung his bo to swat his legs free of soldiers and jumped to his feet. His glare upon the man sharpened.

“I don’t need a crutch.” He growled, softshell open to the evening breeze. It wasn't a sensation he was used to, but capable of ignoring nonetheless. He raised a judgmental eyebrow at the twitch of the Lieutenant's hands on paper. "Do you?"

The Flame Head immediately halted his folding and narrowed his otherworldly eyes at the teen. He knew he was being baited--he did the same thing to the kid--but he couldn't back down lest his honor and ego take a hit.

Lou Jitsu would meet the challenge head on.

The Foot Lieutenant tossed his paper to the side and took a defensive pose.

[moveslikebucky]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crowley Has Anxiety (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Established Relationship Summary:

Crowley overthinks things, Aziraphale is there to ground him back to reality.

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Hello friends!  Expect to see more fic posts from me I’m about to queue up a bunch of them!  Life has been a bit uhhhh life-ish and I haven’t been crossposting to Tumblr and Twitter like I would like to, so I'm gonna queue up some fic posts!

This fic is for my dear friend @cassieoh, who drew some frankly stunning art of Crowley and Aziraphale having a bit of a romp in the plant room.  Look for the art coming soon in the Bottoms Up! Zine, but for now, have some words!  This one is a short one, but it is NSFW so mind the tags.

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Crowley grimaces.  His coffee is bitter, not enough sugar.  Made it wrong, wasn’t paying attention.  Too many thoughts swimming around in his head for that.  He’s not all here, not present in the moment.  Not like he should be.  

Things have been good lately, simple and easy.  Maybe a little too easy.  Crowley is always wary of danger, always circling.  His serpentine nature has him peeking out from the grass, always on the watch for the hawks above.  

His shoulders tense, his pulse quickens.  He gulps down some more of the bitter swill, letting it burn down his throat, stick to his tongue.  It brewed too long as well, going stale and stagnant as he stared at the French press, dissociating and unfocused..

His fingers start to shake, the cup in his hand does, too.  His weight shifts from one foot to the other.  His robe suddenly feels sweaty and scratchy and entirely too uncomfortable.

Below him, on the street, water traffic drifts by on the Thames, the streets bustle with life and activity.  It shouldn’t be here, none of this should be here.  It could all be gone in an instant.  Colors shift and deepen as his eyes are swallowed by yellow.  Any minute now, everything will be gone, they’ll come back for their war and everything—

Soft fingers alight on the back of his neck, gently gathering and brushing his long hair to one side.  Soft lips press ‘I love you’ onto his shoulder between breaths.  Two strong and angelic arms wrap around him, grounding him back down to this building, to this flat, to this room.

Crowley breathes.

“Shhh, darling,” Aziraphale coos in his ear, “I’ve got you, love.”

“Angel,” he sighs in relief, feels his pulse slow.  His breath evens out, matching Aziraphale’s.  Aziraphale does this on purpose, sets the pace and leads by example.  Crowley would follow him everywhere, he follows him in this too.  

“What do you need, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers as his hands ghost the planes of Crowley’s stomach, settle on his hip bones, strong and sure.  “What can I do to help?”

“Just need you, angel.”  Crowley sets his coffee aside and slides his hands down Aziraphale’s arms, twining their fingers together.  They stay like this for a few moments, Aziraphale tracing his thumbs along Crowley’s hands, whispering words of affection into his ear.  Calming him back into himself, back to their world and this reality.  

Aziraphale kisses along the nape of his neck, up into his hairline, pushes the robe a little further down Crowley’s shoulder.  He shivers when the cool air touches his skin, lets go of himself, lets Aziraphale take control.

“I won’t be going into the bookshop today, I think,” Aziraphale says as he pushes the robe the rest of the way off Crowley’s shoulders.  “I think there are much more pressing matters to attend to here.”

He lets go of Aziraphale’s hands, lets the robe pool on the ground at his feet.  Revels in the soft touch of his lover’s hands roaming over his body.  Dancing along his ribcage, tweaking at his nipples; a firm yet gentle touch roaming his arms.  Crowley turns his head, capturing Aziraphale’s lips with his own, moaning at the feel of this blessed angel worshipping his body like this.  

Aziraphale cups his cheek with one hand, deepening the kiss.  It’s a weird angle but Crowley doesn’t care, content to take communion from his angel’s lips.  Affection freely given, reminding him that this is their home, that this is their life.  They get to have this, together, for as long as they live.

“Shall I, darling?”  Aziraphale asks, an already slick finger teasing along the cleft of Crowley’s arse, “Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” Crowley isn’t too proud to beg, not anymore.  He leans against the glass, cool under his hands as Aziraphale gently opens him up.  He takes his time, slow and languid.  Crowley keens and grinds back onto his fingers, trying to speed him up.  Aziraphale is relentless, settles his unoccupied hand on Crowley’s hip and holds him steady as he curls his fingers.  As Crowley cries out against the glass, fogging it with his breath.

Below them, London bustles.  People go about their daily lives, paying no mind to the two of them.  They’re too high up to be seen, in any case.  Aziraphale leans over, trailing kisses down Crowley’s spine, covering his hand where it rests on the glass.  Aziraphale’s fingers fit perfectly between his own, small pinpricks of sunlight lighting through the small gaps in between.  

“Are you ready for me, dearheart?”  Aziraphale asks, answered with repeated yes’s falling from Crowley’s lips, crashing down to the concrete.  Crowley leans against the window, taking in the sky, the buildings, even the thrice-damned river.  It’s all here, this world, their world, their home — and they get to keep living in it.

There’s a rustle of fabric behind him, the clang of suspenders hitting the floor.  Aziraphale’s hands ghost over the curve of his ass once again, coming to rest between his legs, gripping him tightly.  “Do hold on tight, darling.”

In one swift motion, Aziraphale has Crowley up in the air, legs spread wide and grip solid on his thighs.  Crowley yelps as he throws an arm around Aziraphale’s neck, hanging on for dear life.

“Angel, what the fuck are you—!”

His questions are silenced when Aziraphale lowers him down slowly, impaling him on his cock.  Crowley hisses with pleasure as he takes Aziraphale in all the way to the hilt.  Crowley grips Aziraphale’s hair as he moans, adrift on the sensation of being filled so completely.

“How’s that, darling?” Aziraphale asks, nuzzling his face against Crowley’s chest.  Bastard shouldn’t be able to be adorable right now, Crowley thinks.  Not when he has him in this state, using his angelic strength like this.

“Yes - Ah!- amazing, fuck ,” Crowley gasps out as Aziraphale starts to move.  His feet scrabble for some purchase, finding their landing on the edges of a couple of the stone planter pots.

“You’ll have to do a bit of the work, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, breath hot against Crowley’s skin, “My hands are a bit occupied.”

Crowley nods, taking himself in hand, leveraging himself against the plant pots.  He matches tempo with Aziraphale; slow strokes along his length timed with Aziraphale’s careful thrusts.  The push and the pull of it making his toes curl into the soil, arches pressing into the stone.

It feels like flying, light weightlessness.  Being suspended here, depending on Aziraphale to hold him up, to keep him safe.  There’s a distinct pleasure in it that’s different for the uncertainty.  For the knowledge that one wrong move and he’ll be splayed out on the cement.  

He closes his eyes, biting his lip as Aziraphale hits just the right spot.  He moans loud enough that the plants start to shudder and shake; though out of fear or what, who’s to say?  The combination is enough to undo him, and soon enough he’s spilling over his own hand, strings of it trailing down to the floor, landing on the robe.

It’s not long before Aziraphale’s movements become erratic, before his breathing stutters.  Crowley braces his legs tighter against the planters, grinds down onto Aziraphale’s cock with meaning, grips his hair tighter.  “Let go, angel, I’ve got you.”

Two more thrusts and Aziraphale is spilling into him, holding him steady despite the way his arms shake.  Crowley’s feet are cramping, his arm is sore, and he doesn’t care.  They’re here, after the end of the world, in this flat in Mayfair with each other.

Aziraphale sets him down slowly, helping him find his feet again.  A wave of the angel’s hand and the mess is gone, an afterthought at best.  Crowley is pliant in the afterglow, always is.  Being seen to by Aziraphale, loved wholeheartedly by Aziraphale, calms his usually racing existence.  Aziraphale maneuvers him carefully, helping him back into his robe.  He kisses Crowley’s forehead, a long and soft press of lips.  Crowley leans into it, like a sunflower chasing the sunlight he chases the warmth and comfort of his Angel.

“How are we feeling now, darling?”

“Much better,” Crowley says as Aziraphale kisses him again, gentle but insistent.  They both have traumas of their own to work through; thoughts and anxieties that keep them awake, keep them looking for danger around the nearest corners.  It will take time, but together, they’re healing.  Aziraphale kisses Crowley on the nose, earning him a grimace and a stuck out tongue, before turning to his own clothes.

“Nope, not today, angel, you said you weren’t opening the shop.”  Crowley steps closer, taking Aziraphale’s hands in his and kissing him deeply, peppering kisses across his face when they break.  “More pressing matters, I think it was?” Crowley asks as he pulls Aziraphale in close, settling the angel’s arms around his waist.

“I believe I did say something like that.” Aziraphale noses under Crowley’s chin, trails kisses down the line of it, renewing his arousal mere moments after the wave had crested.

“Hmm, I have silk sheets and some bad ideas.”

“That does sound like something that requires my attention.” Aziraphale says, smiling against Crowley’s skin, “Surely it’s part of my duty to prevent that.”  

“Mmhmm, definitely, might throw in a wile or two, just to keep it interesting.”  Crowley takes his hand, leading him out of the plant room and towards the bedroom.  The bookshop can have Aziraphale tomorrow, today is a day for them, and they still have so much time to make up for.