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lady-phasma · 7 months ago

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Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 1 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Bathing/Washing, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, No PTSD in chapter 1 (mentions of past abuse in later chapters), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, Fingering, Choking, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: Making friends in Alexandria is easier than on the road, which also means friendships can evolve and become something more if the connection is there. There's definitely a connection. Non-canon compliant because I don't ship him with Leah. (I think this is my longest fic, probably because this has been cooking for the full 11 years of TWD.) No beta. 9k words.

Daryl opened the door to the small “apartment” he lived in. Not really an apartment as much as the finished basement of one of the original surviving homes. Dog ran in first, pushing past his legs before the door could open fully. He watched as Dog started licking and nuzzling something on the couch. Dog wasn’t warning him but Daryl was always cautious and set his crossbow down gently as he closed the door and grabbed his knife from his belt all in one swift movement.

No one in Alexandria locked their doors, most of them probably didn’t have the keys to the houses anymore if they had ever had them at all. That meant that people didn’t trespass either. It was an unspoken rule made from mutual respect. Even in the faint light coming through the curtained garden windows he could tell this was a someone just not who. He started to relax a little but still held his knife as he turned on a lantern. Dog whined as the head on the couch turned and sniffed and groaned.

“Tha hell,” Daryl almost yelled it. “Dog, sit! What tha hell’re you doin’ here?” He stepped closer to the couch and sat on the coffee table. Eye level with Kristina as she sat up bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“Ya ain’t gotta yell,” she said as she rubbed her eyes open. Her short hair was sticking up all over on the side that had been on the pillow. “Anyway you’re the one that’s late.”

Daryl grunted and put the lantern on the coffee table. Kristina swung her feet onto the floor to make room on the couch for him.

“Ain’t late for nuthin’,” he grumbled as he stood up. He took his vest off and draped it over a chair followed by his belt and all the attachments. He even put his knife on the side table before sitting down on the couch.

“Well you’re late getting back is what I mean,” she said as he sat. “You were out on a run and gone longer than I thought. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” he answered. “Same as most days, ‘bout nuthin’ left here. Why’re ya here?”

“Because…” she let out a sleepy little yawn “you said that we should hang out today but then I remembered I don’t have a calendar and I don’t know what day it is so if you said Friday maybe it’s Monday and I’m the late one.” She chuckled a little at her own nonsense and that made Daryl scoff or grunt or whatever that noise was that he makes when something is slightly humorous.

She lifted her sock clad feet and a portion of blanket up onto the couch, almost in his lap but not quite. She tucked her cold toes between his leg and the couch cushion as she leaned back on the arm of the couch and looked at him.

“You had a hard day, huh?” she tried but he rarely took the bait. She was feeling him out, trying to get the sense of his mood.

Daryl shook his head just a tiny bit then shot her a side glance briefly before looking down at his hands again. He appeared to be missing the “armor” of having his pocket knife to clean his nails to avoid eye contact.

“We’ve been friends awhile,” she leaned up and hugged her knees. “Not as long as some but a while, right? So you should know by now I’m not asking as your therapist, hell I don’t even need full and complete sentences!” The half of his face she could see shifted into a slight grin at this. She desperately wanted to reach out and move the hair back from his face but they weren’t those friends.

“Yeah,” he spoke this more than grunted so that was progress.

Kristina really wanted to be more than friends with him but had never pushed him, would never. She was so curious about him. There was only so much you could learn about someone if they didn’t talk. She knew his relationship with Carol was particularly special because they had spent so many months living out there and they didn’t always need words to communicate. Trauma bonds will do that to people. She really wasn’t his therapist. She functioned as one in Alexandria for most people but never for him unless he asked. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to need her for other things. She had been through a lot of shit when the world fell apart, made some unpleasant choices. She had survived. She didn’t want him to be her therapist either but she had shared some of the milder parts of her past with him as a kind of proof to him that she wasn’t soft or, rather, that being here hadn’t made her soft. She hadn’t told him everything but she probably would eventually, if he let her.

“Com’on, I have an idea, and don’t argue,” she said as she stood up. Stood up so quickly in fact that she startled Dog who had been nearly asleep next to the couch. “No whining either, just trust me.”

“I don’t whine,” he said, looking up at her and suppressing a bit of a grin. She smiled widely at him but let him win that one. She reached down and grabbed his hands and feigned pulling him up weakly. He conceded and stood up.

She led him by one hand through the small area he called a bedroom (truly an alcove with a mattress on the floor but whatever) and into the bathroom. She barely heard his “huh?” as they walked in. He was tired but he was also filthy. Alexandria’s electricity was mostly out but their cisterns kept water pressure pretty strong as long as everyone wasn’t opening their taps at the same time. She closed the toilet lid and pushed his shoulders down as a signal to sit. He actually didn’t argue.

First, Kristina plugged the tub drain, then she turned on the hot tap and ran the water over her inner wrist testing its temperature. She wasn’t optimistic but what was in the hot water tank had stayed pretty warm. Some of the solar electricity must be working during the day. She ran the water into the tub until it ran almost cold. Looking at the amount and scowling she turned around to look at Daryl and raised an eye brow. He was watching her intently. She blushed a little. He couldn’t read her mind thank god because she had only glanced at him to assess water displacement and how full the tub needed to be for comfort and at that moment thought about him without his clothes on. Naked Daryl, my, well that would be different. She shook her head and looked back at the tub.

The water was cooling off so she instructed him to “stay right there, just a sec” and bounded through to the kitchenette for a pan and a sterno can. When she returned to the bathroom she looked around and realized the best place for the sterno was on the toilet lid but Daryl was still where she had told him to stay.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled.

“Get up! Laws of thermodynamics and all that means your water’s coolin’ off, so I’m going to do this and you get undressed,” she bossed at him while setting up her burner and pan.

“No, wha?” he blustered “Uhn-uh, nope.”

“Oh you big baby, just do it,” she teased, she made sure the teasing was evident in her tone. Once she had filled the pan with water and sat it over the flame she turned to see what she had expected: Daryl pressed so hard against the opposite wall that he might just sink into it, with all his clothes on.

Kristina giggled a very girlish giggle, something she rarely ever had occasion to do in her 30s but damn he was endearing. He looked up at her with those eyes and through his filthy hair and she couldn’t stop herself. Walking slowly as if toward a cornered wild animal she made the couple of steps to him. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on one of his, slid it around so they were palm to palm.

“Look, you don’t have to,” she soothed. “But the water is warm, I’ll add some more hot as fast as it heats so you don’t get cold. I won’t see anything you don’t want me to and anyway, when did you last bathe? That wasn’t in a creek?”

His grin was reply enough to that and was a very sincere grin. He nodded slightly and she let go of his hand.

She tested the water in the tub again, nodded to herself, and tested the water that had been heating while they talked and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the hot water hit the tips of her fingers. She grabbed a towel to hold the pan’s handle and gradually mixed in the heated water with that in the tub. She filled the pan again from the sink. It probably wouldn’t take many more of these to make it comfortable. She waited, looking at the pan of water on the flame as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world because she didn’t dare turn around.

At first she had only heard the soft swooshes of shirt fabric as he began to get undressed. Then she had heard one boot, then the next, thump onto the tile floor. The next sounds were out of context so she could only imagine what was happening while staring at this incredibly interesting pan of water. She heard Daryl’s bare feet make a few steps on the floor and then a hand moved past her to grab a bath cloth off the rack.

“Scuse me,” he said very close to her ear. All of the muscles in her neck froze to keep her from pivoting to see how much progress he had made.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied. Except she kind of croaked the words out and had to clear her throat a bit. She decided to test the water.

“Shit! Okay well that’s hot enough.” she yelped. “So I need to pour this in and I can’t do it with my eyes closed so if you don’t want me to see something, whatever, cover it in 3… 2… 1….” She turned slowly looking mostly at the pan and the floor then the tub. But she knew she would look at him once she started pouring. Who wouldn’t?

Daryl stood looking mostly at his feet but not cowering or shy like she had expected. It occurred to her that he probably bathed naked or just in his underwear out in the woods but there just wasn’t anyone to see him. So in this small room the only things that were modest were his gaze and using the bath cloth like a loin cloth. He was tan but also very dirty and she was pretty sure this one bath wouldn’t be enough but he could deal with that tomorrow.

“Okay, I think it’s ready for you but I’m going to heat at least one more pan,” she said far too quickly, almost making one word from them all and turned to the sink to refill it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said from behind her. Then the water in the tub made a sloshing sound and then another. There was some squeaking on porcelain, presumably his hands on the sides as he lowered himself in, and that mental image was actual the first one that consciously made her flush and feel the tug between her legs. She had thought Daryl sexy very, very many times and had probably had this normal, biological reaction to him many times, but this was different. This time was not brief or from her own imaginings. She took a deep breath and relished it.

Daryl sighed and then inhaled sharply. He went all the way under the water, coming up sputtering and smiling to himself a bit. She noticed the shampoo on a high shelf and, without looking, sat it near the tub so he could reach it.

“You good on soap?” she asked the pan of water.

“M’fine,” he said. “You don’t hafta keep starin at that water. I’m in now, won’t embarrass ya.”

Kristina looked over at him and the blush rose from her cheeks to her hairline. Shit, yup, Daryl was now Naked Daryl. She didn’t stare at any one place and after making eye contact briefly she put her gaze on the floor. Mostly out of respect. She decided she could sit on the bath mat and keep an eye on the heating water without feeling like an interloper. He didn’t tell her to leave and it didn’t occur to her to leave but there was more water heating so she’d stay until that pan was finished.

He sighed and leaned his head back, dipping his hair into the water again. She had seen some of his scars before but he still kept most of them out of view. She had a clear view of one on his chest she had only glimpsed before through an open shirt or when he changed quickly out of blood and dirt covered clothes. She desperately wanted to touch each of them. She equally didn’t want to get caught staring though she was pretty sure he already knew she was.

She tested the temp of the water on the sterno and it felt hot enough. Maybe he would ask her to leave and that would be that and she’d wait with Dog in the living room. She blew out the sterno flame and he opened his eyes, looking at her sideways without moving his head. Now the only light source was the small lantern. The sudden semi-darkness had surprised them both.

“Uh, do you want me to, um, or you can if you’d rather,” she stumbled through that question without finishing. “I don’t want to burn you. How’s the water?” She wanted to sew her mouth shut. Wow that was embarrassing.

“You can if ya want,” he answered as he closed his eyes. “I trust ya. Water’s good. Thanks again. Ya knew I’d just go to bed smellin like the woods.”

“Like the woods for starters and dead things and dirt and Dog. He needs a bath soon too!” she was able to tease unselfconsciously again in the dimmer light. She couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, not that she was looking, but that made them both less tense it seemed. Like he were less naked.

Kristina turned to pick up the sterno can and take it and the pan to the kitchenette when she felt his hand lightly on her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered without looking up.

She placed everything on the sink and went to sit on the bathmat again, this time she put her back against the tub wall, facing away from him, and hugged her knees to her chest. They sat in silence like that for some time. She really did cherish that he enjoyed silence. The world before had been so loud that it made her anxious. Now the sounds of walkers was almost constant depending on your location. Any silence when you were able to be unguarded was sacrosanct.

She heard the water sloshing gently behind her and smelled the mingled odor of the outdoors with the floral soap and smiled. He would definitely feel better and sleep better.

“Hey, could ya do one more a’ those?” he asked in a low whisper trying not to disturb their silence too much. Wordlessly she set everything up, lit the sterno, they both squinted at the extra light, and filled the pan. She sat back in her exact spot on the bath mat.

At first her brain lagged and didn’t know how her arm got wet. She felt the warm water on her upper arm before she felt his fingers. Then his fingers went up under her t-shirt sleeve and back down, up then down. So slowly that she almost shivered and she did make the smallest moan then clenched her jaw tight so no other sound could escape. He was so guarded against the world that touching someone seemed impossible. She had analyzed that from afar for a while now, not infrequently. But the part of her brain trained in analysis wasn’t in control at the moment. Right now she just wanted to feel this. When she leaned to check the water somehow, not intentionally on her part, his fingers grazed the side of her breast. She hitched in a small breath. She was pretty sure he had been looking at her and aimed that last touch.

The water was hot enough so she blew out the sterno and turned, still on her knees, with the pan ready to pour in the hot water. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched her. He was beautiful like that. Strong, lean, hair wet against his head, muscular arms on either side of the tub, amazingly unselfconscious. Just waiting on her. She nearly dropped the pan when he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Whasa matter with you?”he asked.

“Nuthin’,” she muttered. She started gently pouring the water into the tub and unconsciously glanced at him under the water. The bath cloth was strategically placed and she relaxed a little. Then she knelt next to the bath and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’ll let ya get on with it,” she told him. “You probably need two or three good scrubbin’s and your hair. Do you sleep in mud?!” Her hand was halfway to smooth back his hair before she realized it. She followed through and pushed a lock back from his cheek. He didn’t look at her.

“Nah,” he replied and cupped both his hands full of water and swept it over his head. He sunk down into the tub just a bit, knees poking out of the surface now. “An’ don’t go.” His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face.

“Okay,” Kristina replied. “So whatcha wanna do, talk?” She laughed a little and she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched up at that. She enjoyed teasing him because he knew his own idiosyncrasies and wasn’t embarrassed around her… most of the time.

Daryl started fiddling with the soap and cloth nervously and unproductively. He seemed to finally realize he was naked. He looked over at her watching him. It was a good thing his face was flushed from the warm water or she would see him blush.

“Lord, why am I even in here then?” she asked exasperatedly. She snatched the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, anxiety forcing her to do something. “Sit up.”

He did as he was told while she put some shampoo on her hands. She started out gently and then the absolute mess of his hair distracted her from her nerves. She had never washed a grown man’s hair before in her life and had not planned this but now that she was doing it she wondered a bit about why he was letting her. She had her suspicions about his experience with women and understood his shyness. But this felt out of character at the moment, out of character for both of them.

She scrubbed at the tangles and grumbled. “Dunk,” she commanded. He did. She added a bit more shampoo and massaged it in. From the corner of her eye she saw him start to actually use the bath cloth to clean his face, neck, arms. His arms. Her breath hitched a little at the sight of his bare biceps.

She rose up on her knees to get better leverage on this mess and her breast pressed into his shoulder. The water soaked through her t-shirt and bra. She tried to continue with the task at hand but both of them had frozen for a moment, keenly aware of the contact. She didn’t pull away. She decided to appear to ignore it, maybe it would be a signal to him. She took advantage of the accident and pressed a little more against him. He made a sound like quietly clearing his throat. She smiled to herself a little.

When she was satisfied that his hair was as clean as it would be this time she told him to rinse. She sat back on her heels as he sunk under the water and ran his fingers through his hair. He came up sputtering and immediately shook his head like a dog, spraying her and the bathroom with water. She laughed and instinctively shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Not fair,” she played but her hand lingered a bit longer than intended.

Daryl scoffed, that small laugh of his. He leaned back and started working the soap in his hands. Still avoiding eye contact. What on earth is he thinking, she wondered. The longer this stretched out the more she began to feel things, things she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. She had always been bold with men but most weren’t as… as what? delicate? as he was. Timid might be the more accurate word. She couldn’t just grab him and drag him to his bed even if that’s ultimately what he was trying to get her to do. So she stood up and perched on the edge of the tub. She held out her hand. He looked up at her slowly from her hand, up her arm, to her face, questioning.

“Gimme,” she said. “Soap and cloth.” Neither of them broke eye contact as he put them in her hand. Their fingers grazed.

She had never done this before and felt a very awkward. She wasn’t judging him for wanting this, she could probably psychoanalyze why he wanted her to, but she was trying to enjoy it for him. If she was tense he would pick up on it. He was too perceptive not to.

Kristina wet the cloth and her hands in the water next to his legs, extra careful not to touch him. She tried to exhale as quietly as possible. She slid closer to the end of the tub and positioned herself almost behind him. She pressed her fingertips on his shoulders, indicating she wanted him to lean forward. He did but he kind of crumpled and drew his knees up and rested his arms and head on them. She really had never seen all of his scars and tattoos. He kept them hidden. She gently started washing the back of his neck, then she realized she would actually have to scrub. She was honestly embarrassed, more than he was it seemed.

Her mind was racing as she washed down his shoulders and back. All these thoughts and at the forefront was the idea that he knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Dixon could be that manipulative? Nah. she argued with herself. She scrubbed a bit too hard over a recent bruise and he pulled away and hissed air through his teeth.

“Sorry, shit,” she said and laid her bare palm on the bruise. He softened a bit with that but didn’t speak. She slowly finished what she could reach and then pulled back on his shoulder for him to lean back. She rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and decided to be a little bold, test his intentions a bit. His eyes were closed so she started on his neck and down his shoulder, bicep, to the water’s surface. She retraced her path and then moved the cloth slowly down his chest. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t move. She wanted to feel the hair and the scars on him with her bare hand but it was too soon to drop this ridiculous pretense.

She leaned across to reach his other shoulder deliberately pressing her breasts against him. He did move a little then. A kind of shrug, not to move away but to reciprocate. She wiped the cloth down his other arm and then slowly sat back up. She cleared her throat a bit more loudly than she intended. In the silence of the bathroom it almost echoed.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at her. She just couldn’t put her hands under the water. She panicked and dropped the cloth. She stood up, didn’t quite run from the room but almost. She was out so quickly that she left the door open behind her. She leaned against the wall in his bedroom and exhaled, shaking all over. Nope, I did not just do that, she thought. She had. She had fled. Whatever he was doing, on purpose or not, was too much for her. She heard the drain start in from the bathroom. A few more noises and then Daryl was in the doorway, the towel wrapped low on his hips.

“Thas how it is, huh?” he had a great poker face.

“Mmmm,” was the best she could muster in front of his defined muscles. She felt herself shake her head side to side without meaning to. God how she wanted to start babbling and explaining and deflecting but also not do those things and just let this play out how he wanted.

He walked toward her. So big and silent. He could look menacing if he tried but his face was always kind to her. His hair was tousled and in his eyes again. Unph. She almost made that sound out loud. Instead she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. His eyes caught on that movement while he took the few steps to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, he was so close to her. He smelled wonderful, not entirely clean as she suspected. She could smell him.

There was no way he was doing this, being the opposite of shy with her. He looked down at the wet spots on her shirt. He started to touch her hand but only hovered next to it then let his drop to his side. He started talking, mumbling, toward the floor.

“Dunno, it’s dumb,” he said. “Jus wanted to see if you would, ya know, do somethin.”

Wow he was so uncomfortable even after trying to seem otherwise that she ached for him and the courage he must have dug up from deep inside. Very slowly she thought she understood how he could see something incredibly awkward as an opening. Realization dawning, she smiled up at him. She would not laugh because she didn’t want to risk him ever thinking that she was laughing at him. She had to pause to choose her next words and actions carefully. He wasn’t confident enough to overtly take control but wanted it, wanted her to give in, meet him more than halfway.

“Yes, Daryl,” she almost whispered. She brushed a wet lock of hair back from his forehead and trailed her fingers down his jaw. She liked that he didn’t shave. “Yes, I would do anything but only with your consent. Probably, I’d do some things I didn’t want to,” she tipped her head in the direction of the bathroom, hopefully indicating that had been awkward for her.

“Yeah?” he almost growled, the single syllable rumbling in his chest.

“Sure,” she let her fingers move to his lips and she thought she had finally lost her mind. “Sure, just as long as I know it’s what you want.” He pulled away but not in a way that made her regret her honesty.

“Yer prolly doin that head shrinkin’ thing,” he said dubiously, inspecting her eyes for any reaction, any tale-tale sign that she would lie to him.

“Never!” she said a bit louder than she planned. “I couldn’t anyway,” she winked at him. “You’re a completely open book.” He almost laughed at this, almost. Kristina was relieved that he was great at picking up on her sarcasm.

They stood silently for nearly too long, it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Daryl took a step back. He held the towel at his waist and started to walk toward the living room. She was pretty sure he was going to put clothes on and she would miss this window, this giant window with a neon sign flashing “entrance” above it, and she’d be damned if she would miss that.

“Wait,” she grabbed the wrist of his free hand and he stopped. He didn’t turn toward to her, just froze. She stepped up behind him. Still wishing not to rush things and probably failing, she lightly touched his shoulder, a scar. He winced. She traced her finger down his spine to the top of the towel. She flattened her palm on his hip and pulled their bodies together. He was quite a bit taller than her so her head was exactly level with the space between his shoulder blades. She watched them flex, he was now holding the towel with both hands. She continued to slide her palm around him, to his stomach. He stiffened as she placed her other hand there as well and pressed her entire body into him. She hugged him tightly, waiting, hoping he would breathe and start to relax. She felt the rumble against her cheek as he sighed or moaned or whatever that sound was. He shifted and placed a hand on top of hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there but it seemed neither of them was in a hurry to move. She did though. She gently pulled her hands back, trailed her fingers along his back in the direction she was walking, summoning him. She stood in front of the mattress on the floor and waited for him to turn around. When he did, when she knew he was watching, she started to lift her t-shirt over her head but he nearly pounced to stop her. He grabbed her hand while only her stomach was bared. He tightened the towel around his waist and hesitantly grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding it up and off. He dropped it on the floor. His hands hovered momentarily and then he slid them down her bare arms.

Daryl stepped so close to her that they were nearly touching again. He tipped her chin up to him with his fingers. She looked at him and parted her lips slightly. He leaned down as if to kiss her but stopped with their mouths only millimeters apart. He licked his lips but still seemed unable to make up his mind. Then, suddenly, he was kissing her. Lips pressed hard together against teeth. Inexpertly but lovely. She kissed him back, desperate, but not opening her mouth further, letting him lead. She felt his tongue against her lips and the surprise ran down her spine to her clit. She encouraged him with her own. God how she wanted to press against him, hurry him.

He put a hand on the back of her head and twisted his fingers in her short hair as best he could. He didn’t pull her into him but tugged, almost pulled on her hair. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring his tongue, his mouth. She placed her hands on either side of his face hoping to help him relax his clenched jaw. It almost worked. Until it didn’t. He overthought everything and this touch startled him enough to pull back from their kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She enjoyed this for a few moments, the closeness, breathing each other in.

“That’s okay,” she said in a near whisper. “Com’on, sit down.” She sat on the mattress and leaned her bare back against the cold wall. She shivered. He slumped down next to her and the towel slipped a little, showing one of his thighs more than he might have wanted if he had noticed. She turned to look at him, not stopping herself from smoothing his hair back just a bit. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him but she was pretty sure that was not what he wanted.

She pressed the side of her body up against him completely. She let her fingers slide over the back of his hand and then rest on it.

“Hey…” she whispered. When he looked at her she kissed his cheek, jaw, then his bottom lip. Using her hand to guide him she lifted his and set it gently on her breast. Her bra was still damp and her nipple was hard against his palm. He made the best sounds, this one between a grunt and a groan, and she was positive he had no idea how sexy he was when he did that. She pressed the back of his hand lightly until his fingers flexed. She arched her back. He turned toward her more fully and started to explore, edging his finger tips under the edges of her bra.

Kristina made all of her movements slow and deliberate, contorting her arms behind herself to flick open her bra. She nudged the straps down and he took the hint. His breath was warm on her chest but her nipples ached they were so hard. He sat up, leaned down, and slowly put his lips on one nipple then carefully licked at it. Her moans encouraged him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. He caressed and kissed and licked with singular focus, adjusting based on the noises he drew from her.

Then he knelt and pulled her under him. It was strained and awkward at first. Her legs were curled under her, he held her up with a hand on her back while the other kneaded her breast. She sighed and pushed against his mouth. His hands were rough and strong. The feeling of his scruffy beard on her bare chest sent electricity through her entire body. He was perfect and a quick study. She tested putting her hands on his sides, smoothing them up his back, wrapping her arms around them to pull him closer. As she did this he started to lay her back on the bed. She straightened her legs out under him. She became acutely aware that her jeans were still on and he was mostly naked. He moved his hand from her back and cupped both of her breasts in his hands. His sharp, ragged breaths made her hips rise. She was pinned by him as he straddled her, holding her in place with his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut harder not allowing herself to find out if his towel was still holding on for dear life. That would ruin this moment of focusing only on Daryl’s mouth and hands.

He felt her hips move and her back arch. He split his attention between her breast and finding his way to the waistband of her jeans. One handed he unbuttoned them and ripped open the zipper. She gasped a little and dug her fingers into his back. She wanted him to do everything at once, anything he decided to do next was fine by her. He slowly let her nipple slide from his lips. He began kissing her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, and then, finally her mouth. She opened her eyes to find his were open as he watched and decoded every her every move and expression. She felt his fingertips under the elastic of her panties and stayed as still as possible, kissing him harder, brushing her tongue over his lips.

She was so wet. She probably had been since he first undressed in the bathroom. He moaned into their kiss as his fingers slid between her folds and over her clit. He was learning, exploring, and taking his time. He moved his other hand to the bed beside her head to support his weight and get a better angle. He drug his finger through her wetness and up onto her belly. He started to sit up, ending the slow, delicious kiss and she lifted her head trying to keep their lips together as long as possible. His large, strong hand pushed her back, actually shoved her, onto the mattress. Her eyes went wide.

When he gripped the waist of both her jeans and panties she had to look down. He was pulling them down while he worked his way to the foot of the bed. Miraculously the towel was still on his hips but only barely. She could see how hard he was. He was basically naked and when he slipped her pants off her feet he also dropped his towel on the floor. This is happening, she thought. Holy shit. Before any more thoughts could form he was spreading her legs, opening them by her ankles. He looked at every part of her with such intensity that she wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her calves. Then he started his way up placing kissed behind her knee, on her thigh, on the inside of her thigh. He smoothed a hand up over her hip bone and rested it firmly on her belly as he kissed the sensitive skin in the crease of her hip. It was clear he wasn’t going straight to her pussy. Her eyes were fixed on him and as soon as he was within reach she put her hands in his hair.

Daryl’s eyes shot up at her, his mouth still on her hip. For just a second he seemed to being making a decision. Then he lifted his head and grabbed her wrists, one in each of his hands. He slammed them down on the bed firmly. Message received. She pressed them down to indicate she understood. He almost smiled as he dipped his head to place more kisses on her belly and just below her breasts. Her hips moved and tilted and his hands stopped them as well, fingers digging in hard against her hip bones. She moaned. So this is it, she thought, this is what he was afraid of?

He roughly forced her legs wider apart, careful not to put his thigh where they both wanted it. He leaned over her, his knees holding her thighs open, the cool air on her pussy making her tremble. Okay not just the air. His hands were on either side of her head now. How badly she wanted to put her hands on his arms, feel his muscles, touch every part of him. He looked down at her, almost drowsily, and the groaning purring rumble started in his chest again. He kissed her fiercely, briefly.

“This good?” he asked because he had to. Not because she needed him to but he needed assurance, guidance.

“Mmmhmmm,” she mewled and her body reflexively arched and tried to roll her hips against him.

“No,” he said tonelessly. She stopped.

“This ain’t the time to say this,” he started. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, gathering courage. “But I ain’t never, I mean, well, shit.” He blushed. She started to lift her hands to comfort him, sooth him, and let them fall back to her sides. So she just tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“S’okay,” she whispered. She felt like it would be disobeying too soon if she were to touch him so she had to find the words. She licked her lips and looked directly in his eyes. “Take your time, tell me what you want, show me, we do it how you need to, kay?”

Daryl answered by sliding a hand down her body, without breaking eye contact, and slipping a finger through her wetness again. She let out a small breath and he smiled just a bit. She swallowed hard.

“May I?” she nervously asked.

He grunted assent. So she carefully slid a hand over his, lining her fingers up with his. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating. She used her fingers to guide him, first circling her clit then dipping lower. She gently pressed his finger into her and sighed. She slid her hand to his wrist and pushed. It had the desired effect and his finger moved deeper into her. The sounds he made were always guttural, sincere, almost feral. Maybe he had never even had his fingers in a woman. This thought made her cunt ache and she clinched around him.

“Another,” she begged.

He obliged, slipping a second finger inside her. Her hips twitched toward him. His entire body started to move as he began to fuck her with his fingers. They seemed to become aware, for the first time, of his dick pressed between them. She struggled not to push her hips down on his fingers. She wanted him to fill her and she didn’t know if he could read the signs. She spread her legs wider and moaned, almost begging wordlessly. He obliged and slid a second finger in. Certain that it was not possible for him to being enjoying this as much as she was, Kristina flushed when she opened her eyes to see him watching her. That intense focus aimed at her. Like tracking an animal, he was reading every sign available to him. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes moved over her arms by her sides, her chest rising and falling, her hips rolling, the place where their skin touched at the hip.

He ground his palm into her clit and pulled his fingers almost completely out. Then, very nearly roughly, he pushed three fingers into her. He bit his lower lip. He was using only a fraction of his strength but watching his arm working to make her feel this good made her want to grab onto it, claw and scratch at him. He really was paying close attention and curled his fingers slightly inside her. Her cunt clenched tight on him and she balled the sheets of the bed in her fists. She didn’t recognize the sounds that came out of her mouth but some of them resembled his name. Then his thumb pressed on her clit. He didn’t move it, only increased the pressure.

“Oh god Daryl,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.” She couldn’t fill her lungs with air.

He put his mouth close enough to her ear that she almost felt his lips move. “No.”

She couldn’t contain a deep groan but it wasn’t protesting, it was resignation and she tried with all of her focus to relax her grip on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the mattress dip with his weight as he pressed up to be right above her, on top of her. His dick nudged at her belly and he hissed sharply. He had moved his weight to his knees to free his other hand. With it her gripped her jaw, under her chin and lifted it up. She was learning him as quickly as he was learning her. She opened her eyes. She was supposed to be looking at him, not escaping the sensations. His thumb was harder on her clit, he had more leverage with this angle. He leaned in and kissed her. This time forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He was hurried and desperate and hungry. She gave in and made room for him.

She wasn’t completely sure she had ever allowed anyone to control her like this. She was excited, thrilled, by it. The release of control, no longer making decisions, but mostly allowing him to take pleasure from her… that was flattering for lack of a better word. It made her feel sexy and uninhibited. In the past few years there hadn’t been time for those feelings. Every moment of life was filled with decisions and nothing remotely sexy. She wanted to relax and enjoy this but she was so close and it had been a while since anyone had given her an orgasm other than herself. And this was giving, if he ever allowed it this would be a helluva gift.

At almost the same moment that he pulled his mouth from hers he removed his fingers. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. He actually smiled. Still kneeling and holding her face he placed his fingers on her mouth. He inhaled deeply in an almost crude way, smelling her. He started to slowly part her lips, encouraging her to do what he wanted. She did. With her inhibitions nearly forgotten she started sucking his fingers, doing whatever this enigmatic man asked. Whatever pleased him. If she took the time to really think about it she might panic, think this was too different from some core part of her. She wasn’t going to do that. Instead she sucked his fingers deep into her throat, wanting only to pull those sounds from him. Or to finally make him grind into her, give her the friction she needed.

He took his fingers away and briefly kissed her. Then he mumbled something into her mouth.

“Huh?” she was barely able to focus. He released her chin and propped himself up, one hand on either side of her head again, and leaned in close.

“Ya want it?” he growled. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a question but she moaned and nodded emphatically.

Daryl straightened, placed a hard, heavy hand on her belly, and stared at her pussy for a moment. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began to slowly stroke. She couldn’t look away but watching made her ache. She realized his hand was on her stomach to keep her still so he could watch. He pressed harder when she started squirm and push her hips toward him.

“Uhn-uh,” he said without looking at her.

He was actually expertly rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. His sighs were deeper now. He slid his hand from her belly to her hip, nearly to her ass, and guided her to tilt and lift her hips how he wanted her. She felt exposed. Now embarrassment washed over her. Her legs were spread wide, her hips raised, and all for him, only him. So he could look at her. She could follow through and trust this or she could stop. She didn’t want to stop. She was amazed at how exciting this humiliation was, wanted to let her mind examine how much he intended to humiliate her. She was relieved when he guided her ass to rest on his thighs, her calves were trembling from the position.

Once she had relaxed and trusted him with her weight his hand went back to her belly. He stroked her clit with his thumb while also holding her down. She let out a small huff when she realized what he was doing. That made him glance up at her face. His head still tilted down but his eyes studying her behind his loose, messy hair. She wanted to pout, put on a show for him, antagonize him, but thought maybe that would come later, if they ever did this again. Instead she mouthed please and he lowered his gaze again.

His dick nudged at her pussy, sliding in just a bit but it was enough that she completely understood why he was holding her still. He’s really never done this?! her mind yelled. He pulled back almost punishing her for trying to rush. Then he started to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slide into her. He released his grip on his dick and pushed into her until their hips met. He found her hips with his hands and pulled her closer. She didn’t know if he could go any deeper but she wanted it. Wanted all of him in her. She didn’t want this delicious slowness to end but she desperately needed him to move. Her hands pulled at the sheets using anything she could to stay still like he wanted. His eyes flicked up when he saw the movement but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were shut tightly trying to center herself.

“Kristina,” he said. A flat toneless word the way he said it but it had more meaning behind it than she had ever heard. She moaned and looked at him. He wanted needed? her to watch, to be present. He withdrew and using her hips as leverage pushed back in. He intended for her to feel every inch of his dick but was taking it slow for himself. Out nearly completely, back in tapping lightly against her cervix. This sudden, unexpected resistance was the first thing to elicit an involuntary reaction: “shit” he hissed, drawing out the word. She had always enjoyed it when her cervix was involved in sex, if it wasn’t hard pressure it was pleasant but this, this was mind altering. His exploration, his excitement combined with her inability to move and control the fucking made every sensation heightened.

Daryl was definitely exploring. He repeated the action. Out, in, pressure on her cervix. His fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips and she didn’t care. He increased his speed, shortening his strokes, lifting both of them just a little each time. His eyes had barely left the place where he disappeared inside her cunt but now he looked up to watch her breasts sway with his efforts. He leaned forward, unintentionally pushing in farther than he had yet, and ran his hands up her sides. She was liquid, pliant, and let him move her like a doll. He scooped her up with his arms under hers, hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. She was no longer in control of any part of her body and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had enough presence of mind to think he is so strong before letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. She was panting with the speed of his thrusts.

He had lifted her off the bed and into his lap and she felt small and dizzy and wonderful. There was no space between them, no room for him to pull out with each thrust. Her clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his lower belly. She couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips, clenching and unclenching around him. He kissed her neck, sometimes scraping his teeth over her skin, not quite biting. His lips brushed against her ear. One hand moved up her neck and into her hair, then back to her shoulder, lower to her ass. He was exploring, touching every part of her. She felt like he was touching her everywhere at once, inside and out.

When his hand snaked between them and his rough fingers found her nipple she started to beg and plead and warn “I’m going to come, please Daryl, oh god please.”

He breathed against her as his fingers dug into her shoulder, finding more purchase and bringing them closer together when she was sure there had been no more room. His other hand still rolling and pinching her nipple. They were both moving faster now. No difference between them, in perfect rhythm, and she noticed more than felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted. “I want ya to.”

An incoherent stream of ohfuckDarylohfuckfuck poured out of her mouth, head flung back, body arched toward him. She clamped her legs tight against his sides as her orgasm spread from her center. His arms moved to encircle her and press her breasts against his chest. She moaned with this new sensation. Groaned actually. It was going to be too much soon.

And then it was too much. His breath hitched in his chest and she felt him tense nearly every muscle in his body. His groan started deep in his chest. She wanted to feel that vibrate through her so she sat up straighter and ground her hips down onto his dick. He buried his face between her breasts and she tangled her hands in his hair.

“I’m gonna…” he tried to say through clenched teeth. “Ah baby I’m comin’. Fuck. Fu…” He crushed his face against her chest. She felt his hips jerk a few times then become still, felt his dick spasm inside her, and now she felt she could sooth and reassure without permission. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, kissed the top of his head, and ran her hands down his neck and back. Then her hands found his face and turned it up to hers and she kissed him. Hard and rough and deep. She forced his mouth open with her tongue. He kissed her back and as he did her grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. He laid her back on the bed. She untangled her limbs from him. Then he slowly pulled out. She felt his cum trickle out, hot and more than a little satisfying.

He sank down heavily on the bed next to her. Half on his side, he laid an arm across her stomach and curled his fingers over her arm. She snuggled against his chest, still feeling small and safe but now also calm and quiet. Peaceful. With her eyes half-closed she languidly traced a scar on his arm.

“So that’s it huh?” he said quietly. She felt him smile as he kissed the top of her head.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she teased and giggled. She kissed his chest, pressed as much of her body against his as possible. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly it.”

Chapter 2

#daryl dixon #virgin!daryl x ofc #virgin!daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon x ofc #the walking dead daryl #daryl smut #x ofc #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #demisexual daryl

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syndxlla · 1 year ago

Text

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fanfic. Canon-compliant, takes place between BOTW and TOTK

Chapter Two: You’re Safe

Read Chapter one here

Song: Sick of Losing Soulmates by Dodie

Summary: Link introduces Zelda to their new home in Hateno, and Zelda begins to face the reality of what her life has developed into.

Warnings: PTSD, body-image, mentioning of scars, passing out

Word Count: 4.9k words

Author’s Note: This shit is so sad I promise its going to eventually get happy haha.

It’s late afternoon when they get to Hateno, just when the sun is starting to low hang in the sky. The gate is quiet, probably because it was their day of worship. Little kids who usually play tag on the main road were praying to the Goddess in their houses, and farmers who practically work in the field studied their devotionals in their kitchen. Link hopped off of Epona when they got into town, guiding her and Zelda through the back road, past the Bolson homes, and over the old wooden bridge to his house.

He leads his horse to the old stable, and then helps Zelda off of her by lifting her at the waist and gently placing her onto the ground. Zelda looks around at her bearings while Link removes the bridle and saddle from his steed, refilling her trough with some water from the well.

“Well… this is it.” He presents the building with his arms open, as if it were a mansion. Zelda doesn’t say much, she just observes the structure with her hands held together, arms bed at the elbow. He leads her through the front door, waving his hand around the dust and coughing once or twice. “I haven’t been home in a while.” He awkwardly smiles. It’s dark and dank there, so quaint. “It’s no palace, I know. But I could afford it, and I really needed a place to store all my extra junk.” Zelda walks up to the weapon displays, seeing the weapons of their dead friends. lined up one by one.

Link drops his equipment, placing the Master Sword on the table, which had nothing on it but a few knife cuts and a dead flower. He moves to open a window, which creaks loudly as he pushes, startling Zelda. “Sorry, sorry.” He sniffles. The window allows the light to pour in, the sun getting slightly golden. He turns to see her staring at the portrait of all the champions that Link hung not six months ago—when he was here last. He moves towards her, nervous and apologetic. She’s so hard to read.

“Look, I know it isn’t perfect. But it’s got a bed, a kitchen, and a bath, and we can clean it up.” He places a tentative hand on her bicep, standing behind her. She looks around. “If you really hate it, we can get a room at the Inn downtown, or we can go up to Purah and Symin’s-“

“It’s perfect, Link.” She stops him and turns around. They’re about the same height, so their eyes meet perfectly.

“What?” He was talking it up out of embarrassment, this place is a dump.

“It’s perfect. Anywhere is better than that throne room. And I wouldn’t want a castle, I’ll be happy here.” She smiles, and if Link didn’t know any better he would pull her in for a tight hug. He doesn’t think they’re that close yet.

“Really?” He asks. She nods.

“It needs some cleaning up, and as much as I love your tributes to the Champions, I think we should return these weapons to their people. I think we should give them a proper burial. Finally put those four to rest.” She explains, sounding like her old self again. “You and I will never move on if we coexist with these.” She admits, and Link agrees.

They stand quiet for a moment. The dust settles. “I‘ll draw a bath for you, if you would like.” He says. “I can start on some dinner, too.”

“That would be lovely.” Zelda smiles.

They have to catch a frog that was sitting in the wooden tub before Link starts bringing in water from the well, and as they chase the bugger, Zelda hears Link’s laugh for the first time in a hundred years. His real laugh, not a polite chuckle or a distant giggle as she watched over him from the Sanctum, but an actual, full-body laugh as he chased the frog. Her entire demeanor softens as she hears it, her heart racing. He rarely laughed when he served as her Knight, and it would always be because of something Mipha said. His laugh now sounded joyous, safe. She needed to hear it.

She looks at the warm bath, Link taking time to heat the water with coals underneath before she gets in. He goes to yank the screen closed, leaving behind a towel, and some soap made out of goat milk from the farm up the mountain. He explains to her that he’s gonna take care of some things outside of the house while she’s getting clean. That he won’t leave, but he’ll get out of the house so she has total privacy. He rambles about taking care of Epona and then picking some endura shrooms for dinner. With a toothy grin he teases about maybe finding a truffle.

“Just yell my name if you need anything and I’ll come running.” He says as he places some folded clean clothes on a stool for her. “Tomorrow we can go to the general store and get you some new clothes. For now you can wear these. The trousers might be a little big, but the shirt is from when I first woke up and I was a skinny little thing. The ghost of your dad actually gave it to me.” Link laughs, clearly happy to have a companion. “I’ve bulked up since then.” He jokingly flexes his bicep and Zelda giggles.

“Link-“ She tilts her head, almost scolding him.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” He leaves, and Zelda can’t stop smiling. He’s come out of his shell so much. A hundred years ago he never spoke, and mainly communicated through sign language. She wondered if he even remembered his signs. The two of them would speak frequently through them. He taught her the entire language, it took the full year they spent at each other's side, but by the time all the divine beasts were being piloted she was almost fluent. She misses that. Sometimes he would sign things to her as she stood behind her father, trying to make her laugh and get her in trouble. It worked one too many times.

And he really had bulked up, even from when she knew him first.

She shakes her head, reminding herself that she mustn't think like that. Not about her closest friend. She sighs, truly alone for the first time in a century.

She looks down at her hands, dirty and frail. She kicks her sandals off and her feet are so sensitive to every feeling. In fact, every part of her skin feels hyper-sensitive to every sensation. She takes a deep breath, she had forgotten what it was like to breathe in. She does it ten times. Zelda then touches the water with her hand, sighing at the feeling of it. She forgot what water even felt like.

The princess stretches, and then goes to take off the white goddess gown. She freezes, not being able to bring herself to do it. Her hands start to shake, and she frowns.

“Pull yourself together, Zelda.” She mumbles to herself. She then pulls the dress up over her head, dropping it to the ground and leaving herself naked. Along with the dress, she feels like she pulls off a piece of her identity. She was truly relieved and thankful the fight was over, especially because it felt like it would never end, but she’s terrified of what comes next. She wore that damned dress for one hundred and three years. And as easy as it went on, it came off. It came off along with her jewelry, the bracelets and necklace. She stands there in complete vulnerability, heart racing.

A lump forms in her throat and she pushes it down. Looking at the white rags on the ground. She carefully steps into the basin of water, gasping as she sits in it. It takes a moment for her to control her breathing. When she doesn’t, she sighs and settles into the water, her heart relaxing. She closes her eyes and then dunks her head underwater, letting all of her long hair get wet. She blows bubbles out of her nose, and runs her hands up and down her skin. She resurfaces, tilting her head back to keep the hair out of her face, and then wipes the water off of her eyes.

Baptism. She thinks. Washing away her sins, and restarting.

She cries exactly three tears. She isn’t sure if it’s because of relief or anxiety or exhaustion and excitement or all of the above.

She sits there for a long time, not moving. It feels good to be in the water, she feels comfortable and safe. She tries to bring herself to move but can’t, maybe her muscles were finally settling into exhaustion. She just sits there, not even really thinking, just existing quietly.

It was simultaneously silent and blaring loud all of the time inside of the trance-like-state she lived in while sealing away The Calamity. Her heart rate finally relaxes, and her eyes even droop for a moment. She has to repeatedly remind herself that she was safe. Maybe one day she would be able to believe that. The water started to get cool, and so she finally moved. It was nice to experience real peace for the first time maybe ever.

Zelda reaches for the bar of soap.

She scrubs away a century of dirt and grime, and it comes off with very little effort. The soap is soft, she appreciates that it came from the locals, and that Link had it at all. He isn’t half as put-together and tidy as he was when he served as her knight. His hair is longer, and it sticks out in all sorts of directions. He’s missing a chunk of cartilage from his right ear, and he’s more scarred, especially on his face. Zelda hopes that isn’t the result of carelessness, she couldn’t bear the thought of Link being put in danger even though he is the most capable person in all of Hyrule. But ever since he nearly died in her arms at Fort Hateno decades ago, she can’t stomach it. She watched in pain and disarray as he threw himself at every monster, every challenge, unfaltering and unafraid.

When she gets out of the bath, she starts to shiver, her body still not used to regulating its temperature again. Zelda quickly dries herself off and gets dressed. The clothes are even a little big on her, and more revealing in some places than she would have ever worn in her past life. She shrugs, and pulls the screen open.

Just as he had promised, he wasn’t in the house. She glanced around, taking in the surroundings even more, trying to get her bearings again. Link doesn’t have much, and what he does have looks mostly like junk. Zelda wasn’t sure how long she was going to be here, but her guess was a long time. It’s not like she has anywhere else to go anymore.

Knowing that Link won’t bother her until she goes looking for him, Zelda takes this as an opportunity to snoop. Not out of malice, but simply because she wants to know more about this new Link, and she’s too afraid to ask still. In her heart, he’s the same devoted and stoic Knight of few words, but she knows deep down that’s not who he is anymore.

In the corner of the room, there’s a work table, one with an old bow on it. She walks to it, examining the weapon. There’s a series of knots on the body of the bow, some Rito and some Gerudo. He seemed to be practicing on the bow, not using it for any combat. There’s a broken-up ruby on the desk, too. Zelda turns around, the front door is open, but she can’t see him. She continues her exploration.

The kitchen is lovely, nicer than anywhere else in the house. Clearly Link had spent some time fixing it up. There were dried herbs on the wall, and a few pieces of paper hanging up with recipes scribbled on them. His handwriting has not improved since she first knew him.

She notices all his different pairs of shoes by the door, he must store his extra clothes that he doesn’t use very often here. She’s never seen him in anything other than his Hylian boots, but here there were a pair of Shekiah sandals, Gerudo Voe slippers, and a pair of snow boots. His feet were big, she picked up one of the shoes, examining it. She noticed there was more wear and tear on the left shoes than the right, implying that he preferred his left side. She sets the shoe down and looks up the stairs to the loft. She peers out of the door again, making sure he wasn’t nearby. She didn’t want to invade his privacy, but couldn’t help her curiosity. Besides, Link has never been that private anyways.

Zelda creeps up the stairs, and when she gets to the top she nearly collapses. She does not have the strength for stairs yet. All there was in the loft was a single bed, it was a double size, though, and a dresser. On top of the dresser was a vase. It was full of flowers that Link had surely picked. All of them were beautiful still, and most importantly, all of them were silent princesses.

Zelda’s favorite flower. She swallows back a tear, walking to them. A few had wilted already, she wondered when he picked them. If he hadn’t been here in nearly a half a year, they couldn't have lasted that long. Or could they? She wasn’t sure. In her youth she never dared pick any because of how rare they were. Are they still so rare? Do they have prolonged longevity? Her mind started rising with questions, and her heart started racing out of excitement, the way science and asking questions used to make her feel. She picks them out of the vase, examining them in between her hands and even smelling one. The scent was diving, and she sighed as she exhaled.

She freezes after processing what the flowers were, what they could have stood for. Did he really collect all of these for her? She shakes the ridiculous idea out of her head. What a silly, schoolgirl thought to have. She sets the flowers back.

Zelda wastes no more time snooping, and instead decides to step outside. It was golden hour now, and the warm sun felt incredible on her skin. She took it in for a moment, savoring every single human moment she experiences because she never thought she would get them again.

She savors the feeling of the grass against her bare feet, wiggling her toes with joy. She can’t help the smile that grins across her face. Her skin tickles with it, the feeling still incredibly sensitive. She giggles a few times, and then turns around the house where the stable was, in search for her friend.

A shirtless, toned and sweaty Link tosses a bale of hay into a pile, lifting it high over his head with ease. His biceps flex as he tosses it, his skin slightly sun kissed from the work, and his hair somehow even more disheveled than before. He discarded his shirt on the fence, letting it hang out next to the undershirt he wore, and some chainmail. His chest glistens in the sun, sparkling from the light peppering of sweat over his pectorals. He’s scarred to high-heaven, old cuts and gashes healed with scar-tissue that stretched along his muscles.

Zelda’s face goes bright red when she sees him, immediately turning around to go back inside, but that’s when Link sees her.

“You’re finished!” He chimes cheerily, jogging over to her. She turns around slowly and painfully, her entire body tense because of the sight. Of course she had seen him shirtless, he was practically naked as the day he was born when he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection, but she was watching him through lense that made it feel more detached, less real. And before the two of them were sealed away from the outside world, she had never even dreamed of seeing him in such a state. They were both too uptight with their titles. Oh how the times have changed. Even if she had seen him partially-nude, it was never this close, never this…detailed. She could smell him, the scent of hard work and horse-hair displayed in the most appealing aroma of a man she could think of. She makes a special effort to look at him directly in the eye, not daring to look anywhere else. The cherry on top? Link had no idea what he was doing to her.

“I-It was lovely,” She stutters over her words like a fool, She takes a shaken breath and then chooses to sign “Thank you.” She forces a smile, was he going to remember.

Link smiles wide and immediately signs back “You’re welcome, I’m happy you know how to sign, too!” And then he dropped it as fast as he picked it up, he used to rely on it so heavily but he doesn’t need it like he used to. He continues speaking verbally: “I’m glad! I’ll go drain the bath! Hudson and Bolson made this fancy contraption that dumps the gray water into a big ole bowl under the house!” He articulates with his hands, showing just how big the bowl really was. Zelda’s heart dropped a little, she was sad he didn’t remember that he was who taught her their special language. But at least he remembered.

She looks at him, pulled into his elaborate explanation of the water invention…his skin looked so soft, so inviting. “And then it drains into a monster camp down the hill! They drink it or something and everyone’s happy! It’s really quite clever, you know.” He smiles a wide, toothy grin. Zelda had never seen him get so excited about anything before the calamity. She was struggling not to fall apart out of embarrassment as he talked, though.

“Fascinating… I would like t-to see it.” She smiled politely, hoping she doesn’t look as foolish as she feels. “D-do you have a comb?” She asks.

He smiles and nods.

Inside of the house, it started to get dark. Link lit the few oil lamps and candles inside, but it was still dim.

Upstairs, Zelda groans frustratedly as she attempts to braid her hair. She looks at her reflection in the old mirror sitting on the dresser. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to get the plaits to lay the way they’re supposed to. For whatever reason, she is incapable of being able to braid her hair in any way. She can’t seem to remember, and no matter how hard she tries, the hair just won’t knot correctly. Link heard her frustration, and out of both curiosity and a desire to protect her, he steps away from the dinner he prepares, and treads up the stairs carefully.

“Zel? Is everything okay?” He asks gently.

“I’m fine!” She sighs exasperatedly. Link stops in his tracks, not wanting to bother her, but still being concerned. She was clearly not fine. He observes the situation, and sees the problem. He walks towards her, not wanting to upset her further, but wanting to be helpful.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to the comb he let her borrow (that he “borrowed” from Riju… she still doesn’t know he has it).

She sighs, “No.”

Link is a little taken back by that.

“I don’t need your help.” She swallows, looking at herself in the reflection, a frown plastered across her face.

“Okay.” He nods and turns to go. Accepting her wish. “Dinner is ready, come down whenever you feel like it.” He says over his shoulder before continuing. She watches him, frustrated with herself and embarrassed that she can’t do something so simple anymore. When he walks down the stairs and is out of sight, she lets go and silently drops a few tears. Only a few, and she quickly wipes them away. How pathetic she thinks to herself.

She stands up, taking the comb and walking downstairs.

He plates the food he made, whistling a distantly-familiar song as he did so. Zelda sits with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders at the table, watching him, now he has a shirt on, finally. It wasn’t his blue tunic, however, it was a soft, emerald green tunic. She didn’t recognize it. It was big on him, like it was supposed to have chainmail and an undershirt, too. Either that or Link was just too small for it.

“What is that song?” She asks.

“Hm?” Link turns around with the bowls in his hand, “Oh, I’m not sure. It came to me in a dream once.” He whistles it again, down middle up, down middle up. It was the song of forests, and fairy children, but neither of them knew that. “Here, it's vegetable cream soup. I know it’s not the most glamorous mela but I was able to get the ingredients in town while you bathed, and it's filling.” He sets it down in front of her and she looks down at it. He then sets his serving across from her, and sits. The two looked at each other, neither knowing what to say.

How do you save the world and rid it from the most demonic and ancient of evils one day, and then the very next you’re sitting across from another eating a vegetable soup?

Link digs in first, purposefully eating it with one of his two spoons instead of swallowing it down like a shot. Zelda was a princess, after all.

Zelda stirs it around a bit, but brings some up to her lips, sipping it. She hums, “That is incredible, Link.” She says, and takes a bigger bite. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Your dad taught me a lot, actually.” He says, “Back when I first woke up and he wasn’t really your dad.” Link takes a few more bites, trying to satiate his hunger but not pig out in front of her. “And then I just picked skills and recipes up from stable to stable. I really enjoyed it, actually. It gave me a hobby that didn’t have to do with strategy and how to kill the most bokoblins with the fewest arrows.” He shrugs, “By the wayLin, I can kill six bokoblins with two arrows and an acorn. I’ll show you sometime.” He speaks nonchalantly.

Zelda laughs at it and he looks at her with a puzzled look.

“I’m serious!” He defends himself.

“I believe you!” She smiles, “That’s what makes it so funny! No one would stand a chance against you.”

“Awe was that a compliment?” He teases and she laughs more. He succeeds at his attempt of cheering her up. “Don’t start giving me compliments, Zel, you know how my ego handles them. That has not changed in the last hundred years.” He jokes with a lighthearted air. She smiles, the two feel warm, and comfortable inside.

Could you really truly feel happy after an event like what they went through yesterday?

They both believed so.

They believed it because of the other.

Link finishes and stands up, “If you don’t want my help, I understand. But I would be happy to braid your hair for you. It’s not a problem.” Link says in a voice so gentle fairies would come to him. “And if you don’t want me to, that’s okay too. My feelings aren’t hurt.” He turns to the kitchen, leaving the choice up to her.

She sits in contemplation for a moment.

“I’m so embarrassed that I can’t do it.” She sighs. “I used to before the calamity,” the word feels like cotton in her mouth. “But I tried and I just… can’t. My fingers don’t remember how to.” She pushes the emotion down.

“Hey that’s okay!” Link places his bowl in the basin, “I had to remember how to jump when I woke up.”

She smiles, “you’ve recovered so much. I’m glad.”

He turns, “You will, too.”

She wanted to believe that.

“You taught me how to sign”. She signs to him, “Do you not remember?”

Link frowns, “I don’t, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Zelda sighs, “It was our special thing, none of the other champions could sign. Not even-“ She catches herself and doesn’t finish the sign.

“Mipha?” Link spells out her name, there wasn’t a sign for it.

“Yes…” Zelda responds verbally, a little ashamed.

They look at each other, youthful eyes who have seen horrors connect with each other.

Zelda picks up the comb and holds it out for him. He smiles and moves behind her.

He takes the comb and runs it through her long, golden hair. “Your hair grew while you were sealed away.” He says as he holds the soft hair in his calloused hands.

“What?” She asks. “No it did not!”

“Whatever you say, but I think it did.” He hums, parting it and then setting the comb down before beginning the plaits. “What do you want?” He assumes her classic hairstyle of the braided crown, but she lifts her hand to stop him when he starts braiding by her ear.

“Just one braid, all of my hair in it, please.” She asks.

Link nods and lets go of the strands he had in his hands, moving to a different part of her head to restart. He’s always been a very talented braider, even before the calamity. He does it fast, and he is very gentle with her scalp as he does it. When he gets to the bottom, the hair tapering, he realizes he doesn’t have a hair tie to secure it with. Instead of making her hold it while he looks for one, or having to restart, he pulls the blue one out of his hair, and ties Zelda's hair with it. He drapes it over her shoulder and walks away to close the window by the kitchen, his back towards her.

Zelda notices the blue, and looks up to see his hair loose and messy.

Her heart does something because of that.

“I would like to go to bed, I think.” She says. “Would you like me to sleep down here?” She asks.

Link turns around, puzzled, “No?” He furrowed his eyebrows, “I want you to sleep upstairs.”

“I thought that’s where you slept?”

“Nope, I mean I do. But not now, not when you’re here.” He shakes his head. “I can sleep outside with Epona, I sleep better that way anyways.” He shrugs. She looks at him with a blank stare, “What! The bed is clean I assure you.” He chuckles, so charming it’s stupid.

“No that’s not it.” She sighs, “You would sleep with an animal instead of inside?”

“Yeah… Do you not want to sleep in the bed?” He cannot comprehend what she was implying.

“No! I mean yes! I mean no!” She drops her head into her hands, “I would like to sleep in the bed, yes.”

“Great! I’ll sleep outside.”

“Link!”

“What?”

“Just… sleep inside, it's safer.” She suggests.

“But-“ He pauses to think about her words, folding his arms. “I do not understand? I am happy to sleep outside.”

Zelda chuckles, exhausted with his thought process. At least that didn’t change. “Fine. But really, I do not want to take your bed from you.”

“Please do! I don’t need it.” He pushes.

“Okay, okay.” She goes to stand up, but when she does, she completely collapses to the ground, hitting the wood floor hard.

Link wastes not a single second before running to her, calling her name. He kneels on the ground next to her, rolling her onto her back, and supporting her head under his hand.

“Gods, are you alright?” He asks, but she isn’t answering. “Zelda!” He calls her name, and she doesn’t answer, so he calls louder and louder, placing both of his hands on her face to try and wake her.

Link swears, and he grabs her hand to check her pulse but he’s so shaken up that he can’t feel anything. He leans his malformed ear against her lips to see if she is breathing, but that was the ear that he lost his hearing in a year and a half ago when fighting Windblight Ganon. He places his hand on her chest to feel, not caring that he was touching her in a place that he never should, just thinking about her safety. It’s rising and falling but shallow, and he quickly must consider mouth-to-mouth, grabbing an elixir that was too far away, or yelling her name one more time.

He chooses the latter.

He yells at her again, the loudest this time, at a volume that he never used, not even in battle. With a gasp for air, She finally comes to, her eyes opening but hazy and confused.

“Oh my goddess, you’re awake.” He gasps, pulling her against his body, cradling her against his chest. It felt like she was out for an eternity. “Thank Hylia.” He holds her tight.

“Link?” She asks, her voice weak. He squeezes his eyes shut, keeping her close.

“Shit please don’t scare me like that again.” He says, his voice quivering. He pulls away from her and she looks up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay I got you.” He holds her again, “You’re safe.”

You’re safe.

—

Chapter three

268 notes · View notes

mayhem-neverending · 11 months ago

Text

The Big Bad Wolf

Part XII

Word Count: 3,809

Warnings: Toma makes an appearance, what more can I say? Also, maybe not canon compliant just a little bit?

Notes: This is kind of a roller coaster, and I really hope that the pacing is okay and it feels real.

I forgot to mention this, but some of the dialogue is word for word verbatim what my son's father has said to me.

He must have misheard you. That was the only logical explanation for what you said before slamming the door. There was no way he would be leaving anytime soon, let alone with you. The council would never allow it. They planned on keeping him hidden away until he was on his deathbed; he was sure of it.

He scratched the back of his neck and stepped away from the closed door. The thought of picking out clothes like you had instructed him to do crossed his mind, but he couldn’t get his hopes up like that. Instead, he meandered back into the kitchen.

Everything you had pulled out was still scattered all over the counter, so he slowly worked on putting things away while he waited for you to come back. He stared out of the kitchen window while he cleaned the cutting board, his thoughts twisting and tangling together. The sound of your cousin sobbing shook him to the core. Horrid events replaying in his mind were one thing, they took on a dreamy quality. Even his vivid flashbacks had come less frequently now that he was spending more time in the present. But her voice shaking until it broke, the ragged edge of each breath; that was real. He could feel her grief and terror, and it sent him into a series of memories he had kept locked away.

Suppressed memories of his first few nights in that cave with Madara played out in his mind’s eye. He had been helpless, afraid of what would happen to him, even more afraid of what had happened to his friends after he had been crushed. His body ached with phantom pains from his missing limbs, trapping him to the bed with their invisible weight. He remembered sobbing and shaking uncontrollably in the darkness when he fully realized that even though he knew he was alive, no one else did. No one would come looking for a dead boy in the midst of a war.

His front door creaked open behind him, and he realized he still had his hands underneath the hot running water. He turned it off and placed the cutting board into the drying rack, wiping his hands dry while he listened to footsteps approaching him. There were two solid ‘thunks’ against the table and he turned to see Kakashi in his Hokage attire.

“Obito,” Kakashi stated seriously.

He pointed at one of the two bags on the table. “I have your uniform in there, along with a few other things,”

Kakashi waited for Obito to take action, but he just stood there. It was taking him quite some time to process what was happening. After a moment, Kakashi took the bag and handed it to him, hoping that would do the trick.

“She was serious? You’re letting me leave?” His eyes connected to Kakashi’s.

“You will be accompanying her on this mission. Go get dressed and we’ll discuss it when you’re done,”

He hesitated for a moment before exiting the room. He tossed the heavy bag onto his bed and unzipped it. He pulled out black pants, a matching heavy long-sleeve, a roll of tape and standard issued sandals. Looking back into it, he saw that at the bottom of the bag, a green vest with a red spiral adorning the back stared up at him.

Carefully, he lifted it out of the bag, inspecting every inch of it with his eyes. He bit his lip as a well of emotion rose and engulfed him. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes and he did his best to take a deep breath. He set it aside and dressed himself in the underclothes and sandals, taking his time with the wrappings while he focused on controlled breathing.

Kakashi silently appeared in his doorway when he was nearly done. Obito looked up into the worried face of his old friend, and the emotions he had been controlling washed over him once again. A stray tear slipped out, and he was unable to hide it.

Without permission, Kakashi entered his room and stood before him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He remained silent while Obito regained control.

“Busy morning,” Kakashi commented.

“Heh, yeah,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t fully understand what’s going on,” he admitted.

“I got in touch with my friend who lives near Akujia’s capital. The Zen’in clan was annihilated early this morning. The government sent a team to wipe them out while they were meeting to - this is what the government has released - “overthrow the government”. The entire compound was bombed and set alight, their lands with it - scorched-earth style,”

“Could they get their message across any clearer?” Obito asked, appalled.

“Only by killing the last living Zen’in,” he replied tonelessly.

Obito stood up, shaking his head. Thinking about the senseless violence made him queasy.

“The Elders and I are in agreement, for once, that it’s imperative for us to get HIna Zen’in and her unborn child back here safely. As shinobi and chakra-users alike, we can’t stand idly by and watch our people be slaughtered,”

“But why are you sending me? This seems like a job for someone the Leaf.. trusts,”

Kakashi sighed. “I can’t send Y/n alone, and she was right about your strength. If you’re attacked, the mission is less likely to be compromised if you’re there,”

“But what-” The sound of the front door opening stopped him from continuing.

“Guys?” You called out.

Obito and Kakashi went out to the living room to greet you. Kakashi walked over to the couch where you stood while Obito stopped in his tracks the moment he saw you, unprepared for the sight of you in uniform.

In his mind, you were something sweet; something small and warm, someone to be protected. Even when you sparred he couldn’t bring himself to see you differently, not when you let him pull you off the ground, sweaty and smiling every time you finished.

But you held yourself differently in your uniform. You stood tall, an aura of cool confidence exuding from you in waves. He had never considered that you made yourself smaller for others, but this version of you filled the room.

“I assume we’ll do a short debrief and then head out?” You were looking at Kakashi.

He nodded, not that Obito even really registered. He tried to wave Obito over to stand next to you for it, but found his friend slack-jawed and staring. Surprise registered first, then understanding, followed by a small spike of irritation. His eyes narrowed.

“Obito, come here,” you intervened before Kakashi could say anything.

He listened, immediately trotting over to your side. Kakashi cleared his throat to catch both of your attentions and began. “Right. We aren’t aware whether anyone knows Hina Zen’in is still alive, so the focus is on getting in and out. Draw the least amount of attention as possible and don’t use chakra if it isn’t an emergency. In case of an attack, I’m going to encourage you not to kill. If it is necessary, kill without using chakra. It’s too dangerous to use anywhere near the border or in Akujia,”

You both nodded during his short pause. He continued, “Your second day of travel, I want you in civilian clothes. Under no circumstance are you allowed to reveal that you are Leaf shinobi, no less headed west,”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly, the three of you heard muffled shouting from outside. Kakashi’s eyes flashed and he looked at you sheepishly. You narrowed your eyes. “Why does that yelling sound familiar, Kakashi?”

“Listen, his boss said he was busy and I couldn’t stay on the phone, so I told his boss to send him here,”

“Who?” Obito asked.

“Toma,” you answered with disdain.

Kakashi looked at you apologetically before leading the way as the three of you walked to the door. Toma was standing at the edge of the clearing, directly in front of the barrier. Your nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of him. He shouldn’t be anywhere near a place you felt safe.

“Hello!” Kakashi called as you all shuffled through the snow toward him.

“That’s all you can say? Why the fuck am I out here? Why can’t I get any closer?”

You pursed your lips and glared at him. Usually you could stay completely neutral, but him being near the cottage was incredibly disruptive to your nervous system, causing you to feel on edge.

“You!” He said, jabbing a finger at you.

Kakashi stood to your right, Obito to your left when you came to a stop. “We just needed to discuss-”

“Sayuri broke up with me because of you,” he was pointing an accusatory finger at you, ignoring the men.

“Her actions are not my responsibility,” you replied dully, letting your eyelids fall midway so you looked bored.

His face broke out into a cruel smirk. “I know you still love me. This is proof of it. You wanted to get rid of her because you want me back. I knew it!”

“I don’t know how you came to that conclusion, but know that you’re wrong. I don’t have time for your nonsense, I-”

“You feel as I do, don’t lie to me. You’re only saying that because your little boyfriend’s here,” his eyes darkened and took on a frightening quality.

The men on either side of you looked between the two of you with growing concern, and Obito with added confusion. Toma was more animal than man when his mind got stuck like this, and his body reflected it. He stood like he was ready to pounce the moment you were close enough.

“I’m not lying. I don’t want you. Move on. You weren’t called here to harass-”

His smile only widened as he interrupted you. “I will win your heart back. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying if I have to, Baby,”

Your bored facade broke and your face twisted into a snarl at the pet name. “How many fucking times do I have to say it? I don’t want you. Even broken up you’re still trying to force yourself on me! Your feelings are not my fucking responsibility,”

“Nor yours mine,” he crossed his arms smugly.

Toma never made any sense and always thought he was right. You were glad they were able to witness it too, even if it was a little embarrassing. You looked at Obito and then Kakashi, exasperated and looking for help. Obito was starting to look irritated, his brows furrowed. Kakashi stepped forward.

“You’re only here because I’m sending her on a mission and Hikaru needs someone to stay with. We’re in a time crunch,” he stated authoritatively.

The part about Hikaru seemed to go right over Toma’s head. “Her? A mission? Yeah, right. Like she could ever do anything worthwhile,”

He hardly paid any attention to your growing rage. “Sorry, babe, but you know it’s true. You’re weak and kind of dumb, no offense. I could do a better job than you without chakra,”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to ignore him and not lose your cool again. Your nails dug into your clenched fists as you struggled not to snap. Snow crunched to your left and you looked at Obito out of the corner of your eye. He was red now, a vein bulging in his neck. Your stomach rolled over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled.

Toma shifted his wild gaze from you to him, his distaste clear at being addressed by another man. He looked at you again with his predatory grin. “See, you can’t even stand up for yourself. You have to have a man do it because the only thing you’re good at is cooking and whoring,”

His eyes slid back to Obito. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

He hesitated just enough in his shock that Kakashi had a chance to say, “Don’t say a word,”

He was seething, but clamped his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more issues for you in the long run. He did step closer to you though, taking a spot slightly behind you.

With forced calm, you said, “As was previously stated: we’re in a time crunch. Will you take Hikaru while I’m away or not?”

He scoffed. “Why would I? You say you don’t want me so why don’t you have your little boyfriend over there take him? Or are you not really going on a mission? I bet you’re taking a nice little vacation and sticking the kid on me,”

“That’s a ‘no’, then?”

“What do you think?”

“Great, you can leave now,”

You turned to Kakashi to discuss what you would do now, but apparently Toma wasn’t finished. “Not before you tell me who the fuck this is,”

“What’s it to you?”

“I wanna know what kind of men you’re bringing around our son,”

“Better men than you,”

“Go fuck yourself, you act so high and mighty but you’re just a dumb whore,”

You gave him a thumbs up. You glanced at Obito, who was glaring daggers into Toma so intensely you were surprised he hadn’t activated his sharingan. Kakashi wasn’t fairing much better on your other side, his jaw clenched under his mask and his fist opening and closing in an effort to keep his composure.

“We’re done here. Let’s go back inside and finish up so we can leave,”

Toma started shouting obscenities at you the moment your back was turned to him, but you had had enough and walked back inside without giving him a second more of your attention. The men reluctantly followed you, more disturbed by the interaction than you. Once the door was shut behind them, you visibly relaxed your shoulders.

“We were talking about not letting anyone know we were shinobi, I think. What else?” You prompted.

“Right…” Kakashi cleared his throat.

“Are we not going to talk about that?” Obito asked incredulously, still red in the face..

“We’ve already wasted enough time,” you replied dismissively.

“She’s right,”

Kakashi walked over to the table where he had placed one of the two bags he brought. He ignored Obito’s, “Are you serious?” and started back where he left off.

He reached into a side pocket and pulled out what looked like two thick silver chain bracelets. He held it up for the two of you to see. “These are chakra suppressors. Obito, I know you’re good at chakra suppression, but for security measures, I think the council will appreciate it if you wear these,”

Obito eyed them warily, but nodded slowly. The shift back to the task at hand sobered him some, though he was still tense. He held out his wrists and Kakashi unclasped one, carefully placing it around his wrist. The moment it clasped, it glowed and shrunk to tightly cling to his exposed skin. While putting the second on, Kakashi explained. “These recognize the wearer’s chakra signature so that they can’t be taken off by them. If there’s an emergency, Y/n will be able to take these off for you,”

“When you return, come straight here and contact me. No exceptions. I’ll send Sakura to assess anybody if needed, understood?”

You both nodded. Kakashi turned his attention solely to you. “What’s your plan for Hikaru? I can’t dismiss you until that’s sorted,”

“Well.. I’m sure my mom could take him for the weekend, but beyond that..” You looked at him pleadingly.

His eyes widened. He shook his head. “You’re not asking me, surely?”

“It’s not like you’d have him the whole time, it’d be two or three days and he’d be in school for the majority of it. Please? Sakura and Naruto could help you if you can’t pick him up,”

“Don’t you have anyone closer to you?”

“I would have already asked if I did,”

“..You don’t have anyone?”

His tone triggered something in you, and your expression soured. You gestured behind you and said, “How could I when I was dealing with that for years?”

He visibly winced. Your brows furrowed and you waved a frustrated hand through the air. “You know what, I don’t know why I even asked, that was dumb. I know you’re busy and it’s not your responsibility. I’ll figure it out,”

You snatched your phone out of your pocket and started stalking out of the room. Your frustration built up in your chest and between your shoulder blades as the weight of the day started sinking in with this new hurtle. What a rollercoaster of a day, and it wasn’t even dinnertime. You pulled up your mom’s number and pressed the call button.

Behind you, Obito asked Kakashi, “So, you’re actually dating, then?”

“No, that’s just village gossip,” he raked a hand through his hair.

Obito sighed in poorly veiled relief. “If that’s true, taking her kid would really make people talk. I’m sure she’ll figure it out. I imagine she’s probably used to, considering what that piece of shit said outside,”

Kakashi stilled. He looked blankly at Obito, his thoughts indecipherable. Without a word, he turned on his heel and followed you down the hallway, his Hokage’s robe swishing behind him. The door to the bathroom was cracked open, and he opened the door to find you sitting on the edge of the counter, aggressively tapping your fingers against the counter with your phone against your ear.

You hardly spared him a glance, caught up in your plight and struggling to contain your overwhelming emotions. Your mother hadn’t answered your first two calls, so your next call would be to your grandma, the one who was taking care of Hikaru. You pulled your phone away from your ear and groaned in frustration.

Kakashi called your name while you scrolled for your grandma’s contact. You barely heard him, so he went to stand in front of you. You pressed the phone to your ear after pressing ‘call’ and looked at him. He said your name again but you shook your head, listening to the phone ring with growing desperation. She had to answer, she just had to. You couldn’t handle not being able to contact anyone when you were on such a short time limit already. You had promised Hina you would be there, and you were going to be later than you had promised because you couldn’t travel at jounin speed on your second day. You couldn’t be delayed by this, too.

The call went to voicemail, and you couldn’t stop frustrated tears from springing up. You angrily wiped them away before they could fall. Crying was pointless.

“Y/n,”

“What?!” Your eyes finally met his, widening at your own tone.

You stared at each other in shared surprise for a second where you felt every negative emotion you had pushed away from that day wash over you.

Your face scrunched up and your tears sprang free. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated. I didn’t mean to do that,”

Kakashi shushed you and stepped forward to stand between your legs. He pulled you into a hug. “It’s okay, I understand. Listen,”

“I’ll take Hikaru, okay? Just give me your mom’s number and I’ll take care of it,”

You shook your head against his shoulder. “No, I can figure it out. I won’t burden you,”

“You’re not burdening me,”

“I am,” your shoulders lightly shook with a fresh wave of tears.

“I feel so fucking useless sometimes,” you whispered.

He tightened his grip around your shoulders. “You’re not, don’t say that,”

You huffed what he assumed was supposed to be a laugh. “I know that, objectively. Doesn’t make me feel it any less,”

You wiped at your face under the protection of his shoulder. You felt absolutely ridiculous, your emotions everywhere while your mind screamed at you to get it under control. You pulled away in an attempt to shut everything down. There wasn’t time for comfort, it was time for action. You pushed lightly against his chest and he stepped back, searching your gaze as you found the strength to shut yourself down. You succeeded with a couple deep breaths, reaching inward. In a few seconds, you were able to revert into a familiar dissociative state.

“That was embarrassing,” you commented, tears now dried.

His bewildered expression didn’t faze you as you continued now that you had suppressed everything. “He’s currently with my grandma, I’ll send you her and my mother’s information, if that’s really what you want,”

He nodded slowly. “Are you.. Okay?”

“Yes,”

You quickly texted him the information and slid off the counter. You shuffled past him and went into the living room. Obito was nowhere to be found, you noticed absently. Opening your bag, you rifled around until you found your keychain. You removed your door key from it and took it over to Kakashi, who was standing behind the couch, watching you with concern.

“For his things,”

He cautiously took it from you. You walked back down the hall in search of Obito and found him in his bedroom, staring at the standard flak jacket in his hands. Something about the scene caused your emotions to struggle against your hold. He looked over at you in the doorway. His brows furrowed in confusion and concern when he noticed your blank expression.

“Are you ready?”

“I-uh.. are you okay?”

You strode across the room to him and took the jacket in your hands. You held it out for him to put his arm through, and he complied, distracted from his thoughts by your actions. You went behind him and held it out and he slipped the other arm through. You stood in front of him and connected the zipper. Your eyes followed its path as you zipped it up. You looked up into his face when you had finished and stepped back.

You appraised him, scanning up and down. His uniform fit him well; his chest and arms filled out his shirt and his pants made him look even taller than he was. You noted that he looked unsure of himself, and you pushed gently against his shoulders until he stood straight. Your heart skipped a beat and once again your emotions attempted escaping their confines. You internally cursed him for depriving you and himself of this image.

Obito saw something flash across your face before it settled on neutrality again.

You patted his chest, and with a heavy voice, said, “Suits you,”

He inhaled sharply. You cleared your throat and tried not to look up into his eyes where tears were forming, fearing you would break the delicate line of your control. You left the room. He took a second to compose himself, then followed after you.

Part XIII

Tag List: @mostlyunsure, @humongousdreamlandbear, @ichaichahatake

#naruto #x reader #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha x reader #obito x reader #obito lives au #au

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barren-heart · 11 months ago

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From Panera Bread You Came, To Panera Bread You Shall Return.

Guillermo's been working at Panera Bread for about a week now. Luckily, his old manager agreed to give him his old job back.

A Nandermo first kiss one-shot

Blood and violence. Hurt/comfort. Somewhat Christmas-themed. No death. Post-s5. Nandor/Guillermo.

Author’s note: I wanted to write in script format, but got too lazy tbh and I also wanted to keep some of the thoughts and feelings of the characters. Canon compliant for the most part.

Bright lights flicker in a near-empty Panera. The lampposts outside are lit, as snow drifts towards the ground in thick piles.

In the lobby, Guillermo mops the floor. He’s focusing on a spill of broccoli cheddar soup that accidentally fell off the table as he was cleaning. He sees the cameras and waves them in.

“So, yeah,” Guillermo says. He sits at a table, camera facing. His title reads, Former Familiar and Bodyguard. Panera Bread Employee. “You can probably tell that I’m no longer working for Nandor and the vampires. I moved out about a week ago, I guess.”

A flashback to Guillermo cleaning up his room at the Vampire Residence. He takes his suitcases and the vampire portrait of him and Nandor. The room is just as empty as when he moved in.

“It was just getting a bit, you know, sad,” Guillermo continues. “Not being a vampire anymore, I just didn’t really feel like I could go back to being a familiar. So,” he pauses, “I left.”

A cut back to Guillermo looking at Nandor’s closed coffin as he lays a letter on the table. A moment later, a cut to Nandor picking up the letter as his face grows solemn.

“I’m trying to find my purpose in this world now.” Guillermo smiles. “There’s so…so many possibilities of who I can be. I have my whole life ahead of me. But, searching for your next passion doesn’t really pay the bills. So, in the meantime, I got my old job back at Panera. So that’s…that’s good.”

The documentary crew flashes edits of Guillermo performing various duties inside of Panera. Kids run into tables, knocking food onto the floor. Loud customers shout at him as Guillermo tries to remain calm.

When the camera cuts back to Guillermo’s talking head, his smile fades. “Can’t believe this time, last week I was mopping up blood in the Fancy Room, and now I’m mopping up soup.” He laughs. “Crazy how things could change so quickly.”

“Guillermo?” A man behind the counter says. “Do you mind taking the trash out?”

Guillermo stands, ending the talking head segment. “Yeah. I can do that. Sorry.”

“Oh no, take your time,” The man says smiling to the cameras. “I’m sorry, did I come off as a bit aggressive there? I’ve been working on not sounding too demanding, you know? I learned that from the Being a Better Boss self-help book I read last summer.”

“You’re good, Chris.” Guillermo laughs to himself. His boss has no idea the orders he was given as a familiar. “I’ll take it out now.”

“Okay, be careful out there,” Chris says. “It’s looking like a blizzard. Haven’t seen snow like this since when I was a kid in Vermont.”

The camera follows Guillermo as he grabs his coat and scarf. The cold is much harsher with the wind.

He drags the rather heavy bags of trash out the back door. He can barely see as he lifts the trash bags into the dumpster. It was nothing like the human bodies he would bag daily for the vampires. Come to think of it, taking a whiff outside, maybe there is rotten flesh in there?

“Guillermo, is that you?” A voice calls out.

Guillermo immediately recognizes the voice. It’s his master, or ex-master now? He left the vampire residence so suddenly that he wasn’t really sure anymore.

Out of the shadows, Nandor appears. His hair disheveled and cape covered in snow. Almost like he’d been there for hours.

Guillermo meets him under a streetlight. “Have you been waiting here for me?”

“Yes. Not long, though. Maybe two…or three hours?”

“Three-three hours?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you while you worked,” Nandor says. “So, I waited here until you were done.” Nandor points to a body slumped against the wall of the building. “I had a light snack while I waited.”

“That would explain the rotten corpse smell…” Guillermo whispers to the camera.

"I like what you've done with the place." Nandor observes the scenery. "Very twinkly lights."

“Oh, no that’s the…you know…” Guillermo stops, knowing well he shouldn’t say Christmas in front of Nandor. His voice lowers to a whisper, “Holiday lights.”

“Your roommates must be so festive. So very human and not vampires at all.” There’s a smile on Nandor’s face, but it’s absent of joy. If Nandor could tell the truth, it’s painful that Guillermo left again, this time to be with humans.

“Uh, yeah. They…they are human.” Guillermo says. "Do you think I live here?"

"Well, now that you don't live with us anymore, I thought you would move in where you work."

"Actually," Guillermo says, his eyes on the snowy ground beneath him. "I live with my mom now."

"Oh, Silvia?" Nandor genuinely smiles. He enjoyed Guillermo's mothers’ company the last time he saw her. So kind and full of energy. And so many photos of Guillermo. "How is she?"

"She's doing-" Guillermo begins to say. “Wait. How did you find me? I never said I was going to work here.”

“I thought you would return to something familiar. Just seemed like something all humans do. I flew around to all the Paneras in the area, until I saw you in the window. I came to congratulate you on your new job.”

Guillermo smiles to himself. “Oh, I thought you’d be upset that I left.”

“I’m not upset. I actually think that it’s okay.”

A cut to talking heads of Nandor in his room. “Am I happy with Guillermo for leaving? Of course not. But, I’m not upset. Little rascal is probably thinking about apologizing right now. He’s probably on his way home. What, it’s been, like, just a few days?”

Someone talks offscreen.

“A week?” Nandor says.“Really? Oh. Maybe I should try and find him, then?”

When the camera cuts back, Nandor says, “I know you were looking to find some greater purpose and you’ve found it here at…The Panera Bread.”

Nandor gives a quick look to the camera.

“Uh, yeah,” Guillermo says. “Well, it’s-it’s temporary. I, uh, don’t really have much of a work history with 14 years working as a familiar. Uh, my old boss is actually still working here and got me my job back.”

“That asshole?” Nandor says, remembering the guy was such a dick. “Yes, I remember. Fucking guy.”

“He’s actually pretty cool now. Mellowed out a lot.”

“Oh?” Nandor says. “That’s-that’s great that you have such a mellow boss. Really…cool.”

A moment of silence passes between them.

“How’s the gang?” Guillermo says, wistful. “I miss them.”

“They’re, you know. Moving on. Doing lots of things. With stuff. Vampire stuff.”

Guillermo feels a pang in his heart. He shouldn’t expect a heartfelt plea to come back, especially with how sudden he left. It still feels like it was the right thing to do in the moment.

The sound of a door opens behind them. It’s Guillermo’s manager, Chris.

“Hey, just checking to see if you died.” He sniffs around. “Almost smells like someone died.”

Chris takes in the dead body. “Hey, what the fuck is that?!”

Nandor approaches Chris. “You will not remember seeing the dead body on the ground and will go back inside and finish your duties for the night.”

Before finishing his hypnosis, Nandor adds, “And you will give Guillermo a raise in pay.”

“Yeah, everything looks good,” Chris says, leaving. “I’ll see you inside. And hey, you’re getting a raise on your next check there, buddy.”

Once Chris is inside, Guillermo says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I kinda did, though. Didn’t want him to remember the dead body there,” Nandor says whispering as if someone could overhear.

“I meant the raise part,” Guillermo says.

“Oh.” Nandor continues in a normal tone, “You deserve it. I know how hard you work. And how important it is to tell someone that you appreciate what they do for you. I want to wish you well in your new position. And I’m sure you will do just great.”

“Thank you, mast-” Guillermo stops. “Um, Nandor.”

Nandor doesn’t comment on the change of title. “Of course.”

“I should probably get back inside,” Guillermo says. “Fly safe. It’s really snowy out here.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Guillermo turns towards the camera, away from Nandor. A few tears well up in his eyes.

“Oh, Guillermo?” Nandor says. “One last thing.”

Guillermo faces him again, sniffing his tears back. “Yeah?”

Nandor steps closer. He reaches inside his cape, and pulls out a dozen of flattened red roses. “I forgot to give you these.”

“Flowers?” Guillermo sniffs them. A few are wilted, and some petals fall to the ground.

“Sorry. They were alive when I picked them.”

“Wait. You picked them? It’s the middle of winter.”

“Yes. I picked them from a nice grave I found while flying.”

“A grave?” Guillermo eyes go wide.

“Yes,” Nandor continues earnestly. “I saw them lying there and I thought of you.”

“You did?”

Nandor continues, “And I wanted to tell you that…I’ve missed you.”

“Really?” Guillermo swallows. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry for leaving. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay. I really wanted to stay. I just don’t know if I belong there anymore.”

“You do belong there, Guillermo. You were more than just my familiar, but my greatest companion. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Marwa’s wedding scene plays and then we cut back to Guillermo. The camera zooms in on his face. He grins, now realizing. “Maybe you don’t have to think about that.”

“What do you-“ But Nandor doesn’t finish as he notices Guillermo leaning in towards him. Nandor mimics him, leaning in as their lips finally meet. His hand brushes along Guillermo’s neck and down his coat. He wraps his arms around Guillermo’s waist.

A familiar feeling of heat creeps up Guillermo’s chest and into his throat. The hairs on his arms raise as he wraps his hands around Nandor’s shoulders.

A voice stirring breaks them apart.

“What was that?” Guillermo says.

The body against the wall moves. “Ughh. Is there anyone there?”

Guillermo eyes Nandor. “I thought you said he was dead?”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Nandor says. “I just had a little snack. I don’t think I drained him enough.”

“Hey there,” Guillermo says approaching the body. “I can help you. Are you okay?”

The man, probably in his 40’s, slowly stands while gripping onto the wall. “Yeah, I think-” He slips on a puddle of his own blood, his head hitting against the wall as he falls with a thud to the ground. He doesn’t move.

Guillermo covers his mouth in shock.

“I think he’s dead now,” Nandor says. He kneels beside him. “Little man, are you alive?”

Nothing.

Nandor rolls him over. “Maybe we let the snow cover him up?”

Guillermo sighs. “I’ll get a trash bag.”

When Guillermo comes back, they both toss the man into the dumpster.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Nandor starts, “that was the guy yelling at you earlier. I could see it through the window. He said some bad things about you as he left.”

Guillermo smiles to both Nandor and the cameras. “I think we should leave before any cops show up.”

“Good idea.” Nandor reaches his hand out to Guillermo. “Can I fly you home? I’m sure Silvia is worried about you.”

Guillermo puts his hand in Nandor’s. “How about our place instead?”

#a quick holiday ish inspired one shot #I know I know I’m a bit late for Christmas #I’ve never worked at Panera so don’t hate my inaccuracies #😭#what we do in the shadows #WWDITS #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo #wwdits fic

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triitonjunkremoval · 3 months ago

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superliftcanada · 10 months ago

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years ago

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Alex Eden and Whitney drugging their s/O with aphrodisiacs?

Sex pollen and fuck-to-survive situations are very good, aphrodisiacs are up there too.

NSFW below (tw for dubcon)

Alex

It's a new drug they're working on.

The plant strain used is a little different, meant to be less bitter to taste.

With noone else to test it on, they gues you'll be the perfect subject.

They'll approach you with the idea, promising that they can help you out however you need and wait for you to agree.

Then they mix it in your tea/coffee in the morning and wait for the affects to kick in.

Loves how desperate you become - how you cling to their overalls and try to pull them off, but your body becomes sluggish and ready to use, so you're just a writhing mess.

Takes full advantage, lifting you up and adjusting you how they like, strong arms not slipping even a little.

Makes comments throughout about what the affects are, that your nipples seem more sensitive than usual, your sex leaking without being touched.

It's good to keep notes for the buyers.

Could very much picture Alex as someone who owns sex toys. Make one of those fuck machines they could strap you to while they work on the farm, coming back into the cottage to check up on you and maybe rail you themselves.

Might even hook you up to the milking machines if you seem desperate enough.

Thanks you with a nice meal and a massage the next day for helping out.

Eden

How many times have you put those mushrooms in their breakfast only to push them away when they need relief?

Well it's time you gave them their fun.

Eden decides to add the aphrodisiac to your dinner, purposely avoiding the side of the plate they had drugged before passing it to you to finish off.

You compliment them on the taste and they smile, knowing exactly what's coming.

Dinner finished and plates clean, you retreat to your usual place in front of the fire, snuggled up as Eden cleans their gun.

You start wiggling in their lap and Eden knows it's kicking in.

"Eden I feel strange," you gasp out when you crotch rubs against their thigh.

Theres little hesitation as you're lowered to the rug, clothes being ripped off of the both of you as you lay compliant and needy.

Eden is going to ruin you throughout the night, growling in your ear about how you deserve this for being such a little tease.

Won't use toys. They've been pent up from a lack of your attention, you'll take them again and again until you can't walk and you'll still beg them for more.

Eventually moves you to the bed when the fatigue kicks in, but will be determined to keep going.

Will flop over and go to sleep very happy in their decision to drug you, and will probably do so again.

Still horny as all hell in the morning, taking you on the table despite how tired and sore you are.

Whitney

Invites you out on a regular pub date, buying your drink and watching it while you go pee.

By watching it I mean spiking it and watching like a hungry wolf when your chug the liquid down.

Cuts the date short to drag you back to their place, marching you up the stairs and pushing you into their room.

You ask them what the hell is going on, but by the flushed look to your face you've already figured it out.

"Did you fucking drug me?" you accuse, doubling over from the intense spikes of pleasure begging for attention under your skin.

"Shut up and get on your knees, slut," Whitney grasps you by the hair and forces you to your knees, stripping their pants/skirt and pulling you into their crotch.

"Get me off and I'll help, or I'll leave you to walk home like that," they threaten, grinding against your mouth.

Takes no pity on you as you go down on them. Will pull you away and edge themselves so they can see you beg. The longer Whitney lasts, the more your suffering builds.

Eventually snaps and gets you under them, too enticed by your lewd moans to hold off anymore.

Switches between overstimilation and tying you up so you can't get off.

Draws all over you and takes photos while you're bound, occasionally playing with your sex for the camera.

Teases you on how easily you cum.

You don't leave Whitney alone with your drinks much anymore.

#degrees of lewdity alex #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of lewdity whitney #spill your guts #anonymous #tw dubcon

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

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Intact

Pair: George Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Life goes to hell when your mother, who happens to be Bellatrix LeStrange AND a Death Eater, finds out you joined the Order of the Phoenix with your boyfriend.

Warnings: Swearing, child abuse?, I guess it's more like assault? Dark, probably graphic??

Notes: 100/10 on this one. Honestly it was fun to write-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

You knew the moment you stepped into the house she knew and it wasn’t a good thing. The house was borderline destroyed from the glass shattered on the floor from the ‘family portrait’ on the floor to the burn marks across walls. Your shoes crunched as you walked across the remains of the crystal chandler that's been in the house for generations. You entered the living room and was immediately struck with a spell that had your black slamming into the wall.

"You rat! You sniveling, useless, pathetic little rodent!” Her hoarse voice revealed how long she’d been screaming. She kicked the coffee table in the center of the room off to the side. “I should've known!" your mother screamed, her wand tightening in her hand. Her arm stayed stretched out, showing her lack of hesitance and empathy toward you. "You were always so ungrateful! So unbelievably selfish!" You held your head in your hands. A headache was throbbing beside your temples- you must've really hit your head on the wall- and her screaming was not helping it out at all. Her yells echoed in the house, almost shaking the shattered windows of the living room.

"What are you going on about?" you asked, finally raising your head to look at her. Her makeup was messy, her hair was an actual rats nest and her eyes were darker than you've ever seen. She looked insane, more so than usual.

"Don't act like you don't know! You betrayed the Dark Lord for that.. That boy!" Bellatrix screeched out, making long steps across the shard covered carpet to corner you. "Honestly! A Weasley, (Y/n)! A blimey, no good for nothing blood traitor! I raised you better than that!"

You stared at her with wide eyes. She knew. Oh, of course she knew who you were sneaking out almost every night to see! She probably found out herself or maybe Draco tattled, that coward. It didn’t matter how she knew, she knew you were with a Weasley, sneaking out almost every night to see him, the other Weasleys and the Order.

"Raised me? I'm sorry, raised me?!" You genuinely had to laugh at that. "You can not take credit for how I came out! You didn't raise me! No, no even close! You dropped me off at the Malfoys like a stray dog.” You didn’t even flinch when she jabbed her wand right under your chin, a sneer growing on her features.

You tried to ignore how much it hurt to be ditched by your own mother, forced to swivel and basically praise the Malfoys for taking in someone like you. You were nothing compared to Draco. Everyone wanted a compliant son like Draco, but no, you had to be different, see your mother for how she really was. You could remember when she showed up one random day after graduating your 4th year, claiming she loved you, missed you, how times got too tough to have a baby boy around the house. The thought now made you sick. She didn’t care about you for fourteen years, but suddenly she does. Since then, life has been hell. Except around George.

“I should’ve left you on the streets.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she grabbed your shoulder. Her unusually sharp nails seemed to phase right through your shirt. “I should’ve drowned you in a river, I should’ve given you to the Dark Lord himself.” Her nails dug deeper into your skin, puncturing it, leading to small droplets of red to seep into the cotton of your shirt. Your pain must’ve made itself known because she smirked and tossed her head back in loud laughter that made your temples throb again. “I should’ve killed you myself.” She pulled away from you, stepping back a few paces before turning swiftly to face you once again. She did a curtsy, not taking her eyes off you.

“Clearly, there’s a lot we both should’ve done.” Your voice cracked as you pulled out your own wand from your pocket, holding it tightly. You stepped forward a few spaces and bowed, understanding what she wanted. She wanted you to suffer. She casted a spell before you could even blink, her laugh echoed in the house again.

“Crucio!”

Your body slammed against the wall a second time, except this time, it felt like your heart was actually going to stop. It felt like every nerve was being ripped in half one by one, like you were being burned alive but drowning in an icy river at the same time. You physically couldn’t stop the scream of pure agony that ripped from your throat.

You crashed to the floor as your muscles tensed up. The spell lifted before another scream could fly from your lips, giving your now aching muscles a break. You curled into a tight ball, your knees to your chest, as your.. ‘Mother’ let out yet another cackling laugh. Honestly, you weren’t sure she ever stopped.

“What’s wrong, (Y/n)? Too much for you? Maybe I should just call you Weasley. You’re just as pathetic and dimwitted as they are.” She giggled, bouncing on her feet, before doing a spin. “Oh, I do love your scream though.”

You were trying to blink through the tears and ignore the way your gut was twisting itself up. You officially envied anyone who said crap about Longbottom's parents- they didn’t deserve this. Through the tears, your eyes landed on your wand, just in arms reach. With a shaky, weak hand, you reached for it, an equally shaky breath leaving your lips when your fingertips grazed across the wood. It was so close. that was, until a heal came to rest into the back of your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my insane rambling is too boring for you, is it?” Bellatrix spat out. She lowered herself onto one knee, putting testing her weight against the bones in your skin. You sucked in a breath, your eyes squinting shut. While she was down there, she decided to go on a tangent on how her life was so difficult, how she couldn’t have her love with her, whoever the fuck that was, and how she was a good mother.

“You’re such a bitch.” You whispered out. While the witch was so worried about your hand and spitting all over your face with her sob story, you’d managed to grab your wand. You threw a punch, right to her crooked grin. The punch wasn’t your strongest, but it gave you enough leeway to wiggle your hand free and aim your wand at her, casting stupefy to throw her back. Before she could do anything else, you booked it out the door, running as fast as you could. You didn’t look behind you when she started screaming again.

“Ingrate! Go run off to those pathetic blood-traitors! You deserve to be with your own kind! A bunch of filthy low-lives!”

You rounded the corner and apparated to where you knew they would be, where you’d be safe. With a crisp pop, you were in front of the door of none other than Sirius’ Black’s home. You didn’t bother knocking, you didn’t need too. You stumbled into the house, effectively cutting off everyone’s casual conversation in the living room. You ignored Molly’s gentle calls and Remus trying to see if you were ok. You just sprinted up the stairs, calling for your boyfriend.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your body collided with George’s, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other went straight to your hair. He rocked your back and forth, his voice whispering everything was going to be ok in your ear. You didn’t even notice the crowd forming behind you.

“Cupcake, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened, ok?” He gently pulled you from his chest, his hands cupping your wet cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“She knows. Someone told her- or- or she followed us but she knows and-” You took in a shaky breath, being gently dragged back into a hug by the ginger. You couldn’t see it, but George, while never usually one to jump to violence, was close to throwing hands.

“LeStrange?” He asked, wanting clarification over who the ‘she’ actually was. When you nodded into his chest, his arms tightened around you. “Ok,’ he whispered, “ok, how about we go assess the damage, hmm?” He guided you down the hall, ignoring the questions about what happened, and taking you straight to the clean bathroom.

George shut the door once you were sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He wasn’t quite sure if he was more heartbroken over the fact that you were shaking, struggling to breath and bouncing your leg rapidly or pissed that she dared to lay a hand on you. He knelt in front of you, a sad smile across his lips as he rubbed your knees. “What did she do, love?”

You told him about the wrecked house, the yelling, the headache, the tiny scabs on your shoulder and how she fucking stood on your hand. You left out the curse, worried he’d actually go over there himself and hex the daylights out of her. No one would admit it but any Weasley could easily go from lovable dorks to murderous slayers in 3.4 seconds if provoked correctly.

“Can I see your shoulder? I want to make sure it won’t get infected with whatever she carries.” His fingers gently pulled at the hem of your shirt, his eyes staring into yours as he waited for your approval. You suddenly found it hard to speak. He wasn’t gentle all the time, but when he was, it always stole your breath.

When you finally nodded and raised your arms, he slipped your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped from his grasp as he stared at your bare chest, shoulders and arms. You could see every emotion flickering past his irises- worry, sadness, anger.

“What?” You followed his gaze. Along your chest, stomach and shoulders, a bright red pattern of welts had formed. How you didn’t notice, you weren’t sure, but now that you were looking at them, they started throbbing. The marks seemed to mimic lightning bolts, but rounder, breaking apart and covering your body, but they all started at one spot. An angry lopsided organic shape stood out below your right peck, just on your rib cage- that was where the spell hit. The marks didn’t stop at your shoulders, or your neck. They traveled down to your very fingertips and a few made themselves known just along your jaw and across your cheek.

“(Y/n),” His use of your first name unnerved you, “what aren’t you telling me?” George’s hand reached out to gently touch where the bitch’s spell hit you while his eyes flicked up to yours. You stayed quiet, your chest shaking as you took in another nervous breath. You licked your lips, thinking over your next words carefully.

“She may have used the Cruciatus Curse on me.” You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers. You heard him take a sharp breath. He whispered a quick ‘can you give me a moment?’ before walking out of the bathroom. You heard his heavy footsteps travel down the hall before a door slammed open, rattling the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall.

“Freddie, I’m going to fucking lose it!” George’s voice carried easily through the hallway, causing you to jump. “No, I will not calm down! Shut up and listen!” The younger twin never spoke to his brother like that. “The crucio curse, Fred! The fucking, the, you know! For- I swear-” The door to the shared room slammed shut, the rattling mirror doing it’s thing again as you sat awkwardly in the bathroom alone. George kept going on and on about stuff you could no longer make out, but you could assume they were death threats sworn to come true.

After about 2 minutes, George came back, Fred trailing right behind him, a baggy Irish themed quidditch shirt and a pair of red sweatpants in his arms. George set the clothes down while Fred looked at the marks.

“Bloody hell.” Fred sat down next to you. “Do they still hurt?” He let out a sigh of relief when you shook your head no. “Thank Merlin for that.”

While Fred was chatting away, George had knelt in front of you again, his hand on the ball joint of your shoulder, his wand in his other hand. He whispered a quick healing curse on the five scabs before handing you the Irish t-shirt.

“You ok?” George asked once the shirt was on. His hands had come back to your knees at some point and you weren’t quite sure when, but you appreciated the familiar warmth.

“I don’t know. “ Your eyes were cast downward at the marks across your forearms and wrist, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I… Don’t you think they’re.. Meeeh?” You raised your arms a little, referring to the scars.

“Really?” The red-head trouble makers asked in unison, causing you to turn between them a few times.

“What?”

“Sunshine.” George spoke up from the floor, his hands twiddling together as he got your attention. He smiled a little when your eyes looked down into his. “Remember Umbridge?”

“Of course I do. I was there- I left with you guys-”

“Hush, I’m trying to be inspirational.” His words cause you to grin and snort. “Well, then you must remember the quill.” He brought his hand into your view, showing what he thought was oh so important he told you to hush. The scars from the quill were still there, only faded, but still extra pale against his normal tone. “You could hardly see ours anymore, love.”

You reached out for his hand hesitating, but in the end, you were running your fingers across the skin, noting the change in textures. You turned to Fred, who flashed you the same grin and held his hand up, revealing the same scars.

“Right..” You smiled, turning back to the twin you called yours. “They fade but-”

“-let you tell stories that strengthen you.” The twins finished, a wider smile on both of their faces. Fred stood up, ruffling your hair before heading out of the bathroom. George stood up after handing you the sweats.

“I’ll let you get dressed here, cupcake. Come on back to the room whenever you're ready.” George planted a kiss to your cheek before planting one swift one to your lips and heading out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

“What would Molly say?” You asked, changing your pants and confirming the scars did run down to your ankles.

“After what you went through? She wouldn’t have the heart to make you stay anywhere else.” George called through the door before walking down the hallway to his room. You splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to wash away some of the trauma today would leave behind.

Once your face was dry, you walked from the bathroom, to the shared room with the twins. You didn’t bother knocking once again, knowing you were more welcomed here than anywhere else. You plopped yourself on the bed, besides your boyfriend and snuggled into his side. Sure today would leave scars, mental and physical, but as George’s arms wrapped around you, you realized he was all you would need to stay intact in the end.

And yeah, George did keep his promise for revenge in the end.

#george weasley x male reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #hp imagine #hp x reader #x male reader #male reader #fred weasley #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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umbry-fic · 2 years ago

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Broken Sticks

Summary: The sharing of snacks between two friends, and how it changes throughout the years.

Fandom: Rotaeno Characters: Hoppe, Ilot Relationships: Hoppe & Ilot Rating: G Word Count: 3228 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 16/07/2022

Notes: This probably won't be canon compliant in the future since I wrote it after only chapter 1 was released.

~~~

“I’m sooooo hungry,” Ilot whined, her head falling onto the mountain of homework that had built up over a week of procrastination. Sending it toppling, sheets of white scattering into the air to flutter down, like the snowflakes that never fell on Aquaria. There was no winter to speak of on this planet - it was only ever hot, hot, hot, as it was right now, the afternoon sunlight slicing through the window, unimpeded by the pitifully thin curtains that had been provided by the apartment. The rays were torture on her fins, making them droop as sweat gathered on her forehead from the heat.

That was it. She couldn’t concentrate any further, not with her stomach rumbling every two minutes. This was her limit! If she kept on like this, the room would surely start spinning around her, and she would die young in this sweltering apartment, surrounded by the results of her failures. Baked like a fish in an oven.

“That’s your own fault for skipping lunch,” Hoppe chided gently, paying her dramatics no mind. She expertly grabbed Ilot’s fleeing homework out of the air without even lifting her gaze from the book in her hand, placing them back on the table in a tidy pile, surrounded by stationery that had been left all over the place.

In contrast to her own side of the table, Hoppe’s was squeaky-clean. Her homework was all done, paper covered from top to bottom in her neat handwriting - compact letters, with straight lines drawn in a steady hand.

“But I had to watch my favourite idol’s performance! It’s not my fault that I didn’t have time to get lunch!” she protested, turning her head to pout at Hoppe, her cheek pressed against the table. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Hoppe smiled, setting the book down to pat her on the head with one hand as she pulled something out of her pocket with the other. “Here you go.”

She gazed eagerly at the object her best friend had just procured - a rectangular box, emblazoned with the Pocky logo in large white letters. Her favourite snack, the thought of the thin, crunchy, savoury sticks with the sweet cream coating the top enough for her to start salivating.

“My saviour! Hoppe, how do you always know -”

The box was snatched from her view before she could even reach out a hand to grasp it, Hoppe wagging a finger in her face as she put on the sternest expression she could. “We’re best friends, remember? But I bought this for myself just now, so we’re sharing! Understood?”

“Okay, okay!” She waved her hands in surrender, not wanting to step on Hoppe’s toes and risk the box of Pocky being snatched away forever. If that were to happen, she would actually die. Both from heartbreak, and an empty stomach.

Mostly from an empty stomach.

Holding herself back from leaping for the box like a ravenous wolf, she closed her eyes, fingers impatiently tapping out a rhythm against her arm as she barely stopped the drool from escaping her mouth. Against the dark backdrop of her eyelids, the tear of cardboard and the rustling of foil were torture, like feathers repeatedly tickling her sensitive fins.

“Now then. Every time you take one, I’ll take one. And we’ll continue until we’ve finished the whole pack. Deal?”

“Yes, yes!” she cried, eyes snapping open to stare with sparkling eyes at the now torn open foil packet, laying on the table with Pocky sticks spilling out. So lovely and wonderful, a gift to answer any of her woes.

She’d do anything, anything to start eating!

Hoppe let out a little laugh, smiling in amusement as she shook her head. “Then go ahead.”

No other cue was needed. Within seconds, both of them had pounced onto the packet, Hoppe dropping her mature air altogether when it came to food, acting her age for once.

The next few minutes passed in bliss, stick after stick snatched from the packet as her homework went forgotten. Some nibbled on, others gobbled down instantly as she shared a conversation with Hoppe, one that could barely be understood at times, with how muffled her voice was. A meandering conversation about anything and everything, like a river with no end in sight.

They talked about schoolwork, about their schoolmates and the class gathering that would soon occur, and how boring it was guaranteed to be.

And how hot it had been lately, not a single drop of rain to be seen, the sun constantly showing its face and losing any hint of shyness it possessed before. Leaving the flowers they had grown in the shared garden located at the bottom of the apartment to wither, leaves curling in on themselves as the plants desperately pleaded for the blessing of the heavens. Waiting every day for her and Hoppe to descend upon them like angels, carrying with them the great relief of water.

Throughout it all, they couldn’t help but giggle whenever their hands collided, laughing at the sight of the other with crumbs littering their cheeks. A special warmth spread up her arm from where their free hands sat between them, their pinkies wrapped around each other, sweetness flooding her tongue as gratitude welled from deep within her heart.

Hoppe always indulged her, never complaining about the copious amounts of whining she could get up to sometimes. Always sticking by her side, offering to help her in any way she could, and willing to go along with whatever crazy shenanigans she’d thought up.

And she was the only one who ever got to see this side of Hoppe - the one who could tease playfully, who could laugh freely with her face lit up in joy, who would smile at her gently as they made cherished memories.

“Thank you so much for sharing with me, Hoppe. I know you had to be hungry too…” She trailed off as her gaze fell on the packet once more, noting the single stick poking out, at risk of rolling off the desk.

It was her turn.

“Nuh-uh!” Hoppe’s voice rang out, lightning fast, as Ilot recoiled, rubbing her forehead where Hoppe had just flicked it. “I said equal share, so no stealing!”

“Al - alright…” she mumbled, bowing her head, fins drooping in shame, feeling like a toddler that had just been reprimanded.

“I just need to split this perfectly in half,” Hoppe muttered, placing the single Pocky stick in her palm and focussing intensely on it as if it was the key to the secrets of the universe. Her hand itching towards a ruler, her penchant for everything she did to be logical and perfect showing itself.

“That’s gonna take forever! Can’t you just -”

Snap.

The both of them froze, staring down in horror at Hoppe’s now-clenched fist, fingers shakingly uncurling to reveal the final Pocky stick. Or the remaining pieces of it, having snapped in two with no hopes of being put back together.

“I’m sorry…” Ilot muttered. This was all her fault. She knew Hoppe startled easily, and yet… “I’ll take the smaller piece.”

It was the least she could do.

“No, it’s all right.” Hoppe recovered quickly, the shock washed out of her face as if it’d never been there. “Here.”

She placed the longer bit into Ilot’s slack hands, popping the pitiful quarter into her own mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

“Thank you…” Ilot whispered, staring down at the snack.

It was just like Hoppe to do this.

Her best friend only smiled, nodding reassuringly, not a hint of anger or disappointment in her eyes. “Anything for you.”

She hadn’t known, back when she was a child calling out to the quiet girl sitting alone in the dark corner of a classroom, that she would be forging a bond that could last a lifetime, strong as steel and unbending under any pressure. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn herself such an incredible friend, one that she couldn’t imagine ever losing. But what she did know was that she would never let go, and that she would cradle every moment they spent together close to her chest.

Hoping to see Hoppe’s kind smile for the rest of her life, here on Aquaria.

~~~

Sighing, Ilot let her backpack drop onto the floor, rising to her tiptoes to stretch. Her feet hurt from walking the long distance from school to this new apartment she’d just moved into, an entire kilometre further away than her previous place of residence, now six feet under the rising ocean.

With the constant patter of the rain against her window to keep her company, she began to rapidly unload the contents of her bag, excitement burning in her heart. The Q&A session hosted by Orlan would be starting soon, and it was bound to be awesome! Tuning in with headphones on to block out the sound of rain and forget the existence of school sounded incredibly relaxing, and was how she planned to end the day. She could hardly wait. But she had to finish setting up first!

Laptop, textbooks, homework…

She paused, thoughts screeching to a halt as she pulled out a familiar box from the deep depths of her backpack. Small, with the same old words printed on it, the packaging blazing pink in colour instead of the usual red.

She must have bought this from the vending machine she’d passed on the way back home, though she could barely remember doing so, mind far too tired from the deluge of lessons she had endured today.

Force of habit, for there was no one here to share it with anymore.

And just like that, the flame of excitement in her heart was snuffed out in an instant. Leaving her empty, the cold of the endless rain seeping into her and weighing her down.

Collapsing into her chair, she blinked away the tears that had sprung up in the corners of her eyes and silently pried the box open, booting up her computer with her other hand. Snacking on Pocky while listening to the livestream didn’t sound so bad.

But not even the bright voice of her favourite idol and the colour exploding from every inch of the video was enough to distract her from the letter icon on the corner of her screen, the lack of notifications seeming to mock her.

The messaging app sat dormant, as it had for the past month, ever since she had said her goodbyes to Hoppe at the Spaceport, waving weakly as she tried to put on a brave face. Only letting herself shatter once her childhood friend had disappeared into the ship, for it wouldn’t be fair to make Hoppe feel guilty.

Not a single message had arrived since then, the promise they had made, sealed with a shake of their pinkies, constantly echoing in her ears. Cracks beginning to snake through her once steadfast belief that they would be able to remain the best of friends throughout anything, even separation. No matter how many times she had told herself that she was overreacting, that it had only been a short time and that Hoppe must be busy, she couldn’t stop doubt from festering in her heart. Couldn’t help but see the shards of that promise, already lying broken at her feet.

Even then, it was still a better alternative than the thought that lurked at the back of her mind, that she desperately suppressed every time it reared its ugly head.

That something terrible had happened to Hoppe, with no one there to help her.

And the sweetness on her tongue was no longer the same as it had been before, when Hoppe was here to hold her hand as they curled up together to watch the stream. It was no longer a warm feeling that spread throughout her entire body and put her utterly at ease, comfortable enough to close her eyes and slip into sleep knowing Hoppe would be here to watch over her, but rather a bitterness that only widened the hole in her heart. Mixing with salt from the tears that slipped down her face, her trembling fingers crumpling the foil package.

She couldn’t even stomach the second stick, choosing to abandon the entire endeavour and dump the packet into the trash before crawling into bed, stream forgotten.

It wasn’t meant for her, after all.

It was meant for another, far away and out of reach.

Where are you, Hoppe? Have you found someone else to call your best friend? If you have, I wouldn’t blame you… I’m certain there are so many more people out there who would be a more fitting friend for you than me. Someone smarter and more mature, just like you. Unlike me, just a whiny brat…

I hope that, wherever you are, you’re as happy as can be.

But… I miss you…

~~~

“What’s all of that?” Bolt asked, pointing at the contents of the bucket situated on the dashboard, right next to the adorable slime plushy with a grumpy expression that she’d picked up on the planet they had just departed. His scruffy brown hair was even more fluffy than usual from the shower he had just taken, curls bouncing against his forehead as he leaned closer to get a better look at the bucket, filled to the brim with brown sticks.

“Oh, nothing special. Just Pocky,” Ilot replied nonchalantly without even turning to face him, waving away his question as she propped her feet on the dashboard, staring out the windshield at the scenery outside. At this speed, the cosmos was nothing more than a blur of black, stars flying by as tiny specks that vanished from view within seconds. The ship was configured on auto-pilot, leaving her free to lounge around as it did all the work in avoiding the debris that littered the galaxy, ensuring that they would never be in danger of colliding with a meteor.

If that situation ever did occur, she didn’t think she had the skill to navigate them out of danger, even if she’d improved greatly since leaving Aquaria on this ill-planned trip. Maybe Bolt would be able to help… and perform this “barrel roll” trick he kept mentioning.

“Can I have some?”

“No!” She slapped his hand away, scowling as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying her very best to radiate the same intimidating aura Hoppe did whenever she stopped her from stealing the cookie batter.

Maybe she just looked stupid, but it was the effort that counted!

“But why not? You’ve been filling it up for the entirety of today, and you haven’t taken a single stick back to eat!”

“No means no! It’s… Well, it’s a bit hard to explain, actually,” she said sheepishly, scratching the side of her head as she averted her gaze. To anyone else, her actions would surely look foolish. For to them, Pocky sticks were nothing more than meaningless snacks that held no significance.

Bolt most likely wouldn’t understand.

All that they meant to her, and to the girl she was doing all of this for.

“Then -”

“My ship, my rules! Remember?”

Bolt finally backed off at that, as she’d known he would. He may be a stubborn kid, but he respected airships more than anything. Whenever he was on one, he considered the captain’s word as gospel.

And somehow along the way, she had truly become the captain of this run-down ship. She had left the safe boundaries of Aquaria and travelled far in this galaxy within its metal body, faced sights she had never expected to experience in her lifetime, and learned how to guide its wheel and treat it well. Experiencing the thrill of adventure and the adrenaline of danger, burning within her heart.

She glanced at the bucket, transferring another thin Pocky stick - coated in white cream and cookie chunks - from the currently open pack in her lap to it. Before grabbing another one to munch on thoughtfully, once more staring out into space.

In the direction of the unknown, which she would march towards without any hesitation, as Hoppe had done for her so many times before. Embracing the fear she felt and using it to propel her forward, towards where she would find her childhood friend, and know the joy of embracing her once more.

“I hope you’re ready to pay me back for all of this, Hoppe…”

~~~

“Guess what!”

“Whoa!” Ilot jumped, leaning away from the box currently being waved before her face, heart leaping into her throat as she whipped her head around to stare at the person who had suddenly appeared behind her. “Hoppe! Don’t scare me like that!”

Hoppe chuckled, a sound she’d missed so terribly much. Like honey, sliding sweetly into her ears and down to her heart. After so long without it, she couldn’t get enough of it. “I see it’s still as easy to sneak up on you. And you aren’t even listening to your beloved streamer this time.”

“I wasn’t expecting you. I was just enjoying the sunset.” She pouted, pointing at the breathtaking view before them both, visible from the top of the cliff she was currently sitting on, grass tickling her thighs.

“It is incredible,” Hoppe replied, settling down next to her and taking the time to straighten out Ilot’s beret, ensuring the cat ears pointed towards the sky. The sun hung low over the rolling hills below them, painting the sky in broad scarlet and pink strokes, its final rays catching against Hoppe’s hair and making it shine. “It’s not something we could ever experience on Aquaria. It’s all just high-rises and ocean there. But…”

“You still miss it?” She let her head fall onto Hoppe’s shoulder, her hand reaching for hers to intertwine their fingers together. “I do too. But we can go back whenever we want to. Together.”

“Yeah. Together.”

Here they were, having fallen right back into how they used to be. Almost like their year apart had been no time at all, for the bond between them could never be broken. She should never have lost faith, but she would just have to make up for her mistake now, in the present, with Hoppe here by her side.

“Come on, let’s start eating,” Hoppe prompted, raising the box.

In no time at all, the box had been emptied, leaving only one Pocky stick.

The two of them smiled at each other, Hoppe snapping it in two and offering the longer piece to Ilot, as was tradition.

“One day, I’ll make you take the longer one,” she promised. She knew she would be fighting an uphill battle, but it wasn’t fair that she always got to take it.

“One day.” A grin played at the corner of Hoppe’s mouth, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

And so they spent the rest of the sunset huddled together by the cliffside, simply soaking in the other’s presence in silence, for there was nothing more that needed to be said. Overwhelming sweetness lingering on her tongue and happiness warming her heart, Hoppe’s shoulder steady beneath her head and her hand soft under her own.

Two childhood friends, reunited after trials and tribulations, finally able to simply share snacks as they’d done since they were children.

She could want nothing more.

#fanfiction #one shot #rotaeno #hoppe #ilot #hoppe (rotaeno)#ilot (rotaeno)#i've been procrastinating cross-posting to here lol

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ochabestgirl · 3 years ago

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I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!” He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

#bakugou katsuki #izuku mydoria #kachako #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #kirimina #my hero fanfic #sad fanfiction #leukemia #my hero academy fanfiction #kachaan #deku x ochako #friendship #kirichako #brotp inspo

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| caffeine | [chapter 9]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; i’ve indulged, possessive!wonwoo, intoxication, blowjob, creampies, degradation, slight name calling, fingering, exhibitionism, very minor brat!reader, v v minor daddy!kink, OOPSIES A THREESOME🥴🥴🥴, the drink mentioned in this is apparently a real thing(albeit a shot and not a whole drink) and i didn’t know but now i’m kinda curious to try it jfhkjshdkjfh 🤣💕 I also can’t believe Caffeine is almost done! 🥺 thank you so much for all the continued interest in our dom daddy fratboy wonwoo!! 💕💕💕💕💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - x

SVT House decides to throw a series of ‘Going Away’ parties for Wonwoo. He objects initially, saying he doesn’t really need a series of parties but the others convince him; telling him that it’s the least they could do before he leaves for a few months.

“Think of it this way bro, it’s gonna be so quiet without us when you’re abroad. All you’re gonna see for days is dirt and maybe a fossil or two if you’re lucky. You’ll get bored and miss us eventually!”

Jun clinks his solo cup against Wonwoo’s, drink sloshing around messily before he takes a sip. Wonwoo laughs, taking a sip of his own before he shoots you a look from across the kitchen island. “Yeah, that’s true I guess. But I still don’t understand why it needs to be more than one party. I’m fine with just this.”

Wonwoo gestures to the other SVT House members, eyes darting across to the other males in their states of intoxication. This smaller ‘party’ was just the frat members and yourself; Wonwoo making the decision to keep it extremely small. Seungcheol walks over, tossing an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder before pulling him into a headlock.

“It’s ‘cause this is the pregame to the real one. We invited the whole campus for your ‘Going Away’ party.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes, taking another swig. “Just admit you guys wanna get drunk and probably laid and this was an excuse to invite the entire fuckin’ campus.”

“Ehh, could be that too, but you know we’ll miss you, bro.”

After your fourth cup of whatever concoction Soonyoung called ‘Tiger Balm’, your head and body feel pleasantly fuzzy when you take a seat on the plush sofa in the living room, resting your head against the throw pillows before Wonwoo takes a seat next to you. The others are in the yard and kitchen; quietness taking over the empty living room.

“How ‘ya feelin’, princess?”

“Mmm… good…” You slur, cozying up to him. He plucks the cup from between your fingertips, placing it on the table in front of you before he tilts your head up to meet his lust filled eyes. “Oh? What kind of good?” His lips curve into a knowing smirk, hand placed on your exposed thigh. A whimper creeps past your lips just as you rub your thighs together. “Wonwoo…”

His fingertips ghost across your skin, lifting your skirt higher and higher until it bunches up near the apex of your thighs.

“Ooh, is this a free show?”

A cheshire grin paints itself onto Jihoon’s features as he takes a seat across the two of you on the opposite sofa. He crosses his legs, taking a sip of his cup as he quirks a brow. You meet his intoxicated stare, licking your own lips as you spread your legs a little wider.

“Depends… If you’re interested?” You question, Wonwoo’s fingertips drawing circles on your exposed thigh. He leans in close, wrapping his free hand around your shoulder as he nips at your neck. Jihoon places his cup next to him on the sofa, grinning at you. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m always down for free content.” You giggle at his words, letting Wonwoo slide his hand up your skirt until he presses the pads of his fingers onto the growing wet patch on your panties.

“S-shit, Wonwoo!”

Your body feels even more sensitive than usual with the alcohol coursing through it and you can’t help the way your legs immediately snap shut around his hand. “Princess.” He warns; voice strict as you will your legs apart again. You hook your leg over Wonwoo’s instead, trying to give Jihoon a better view. “That better?” You retort, giggle cut short when Wonwoo manages to nudge at your clit from over your panties. Jihoon laughs at the shift in your demeanour; bratty attitude quickly diminishing as soon as Wonwoo knew where to touch you.

“Don’t you wanna touch her too? She’s already getting so wet with you just watching her.”

“Hmm… I’m starting to think the two of you planned somethin’ like this…” Jihoon bites his lip, eyes hyper-focused on Wonwoo’s fingertips rubbing you through your panties. He strains his eyes to get a better view, licking his lips when Wonwoo starts to push your panties to the side.

“Oh? What makes you think that?” You can help but moan loudly as he starts to run his fingers through your folds, tuning Wonwoo’s voice out almost completely as he continues to talk to Jihoon.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe it’s the fact the two of you seem very invested in this. Not that I’m complainin’.”

Wonwoo collects your wetness on his middle finger before he slowly sinks the digit into your pussy, a choked sob cutting through the air as you clench around his finger. Your walls throb around the digit, already on the verge of an orgasm when he slowly thrusts it in and out.

“Why are you getting so tight around my finger, princess? Don’t tell me you already want to cum.” You hiccup, lip quivering when your hazy eyes meet Wonwoo’s.

“I--’m sorry… s’just… ‘m really sensitive…” You mumble. Wonwoo curves his finger up into your g-spot, pressing into it as your back bows off of the cushions.

“Well, we can’t have you cumming just yet, princess. Let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

It should surprise you that Jihoon has a small private studio office in the frat house, but it doesn’t; not after you’d seen their game room.

He flicks the LEDs on, a pretty purple colour filling in the space as the three of you file into the small room.

“As long as you don’t get anything in here dirty, you’re always welcome here.” Jihoon teases, sitting on the leather sofa against the wall. You waste no time, sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them behind you before you settle onto his lap, already working to get his pants down.

“You’re more eager than I anticipated. Wanna share with the class?” Wonwoo quips, undoing his own pants before he kneels on the sofa to your side. You pout as you look up at him from where you sit on Jihoon’s lap, hand already wrapped around his cock as he moans.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to play… I just went with it ‘cause it sounded fun...”

“Really? Wonwoo was the one to suggest this?” Jihoon can’t hold back his laugh, raising a brow at the other male who deadpans at your comment.

“I mean I’m going away for three months, why not go out with a bang? I’m not that boring. Think of it as a bucket list for me.”

You fight the urge to drool when Wonwoo’s cock comes into view, his own hand wrapping around the shaft as he matches your pace on Jihoon’s. “Before you fuck, put on a condom.”

“Do I have to?” Wonwoo shoots the slightly younger male a icy stare, digging his free hand into his pants pocket before tossing him a small foil packet. “Yes.”

“I bet you cum inside her tight ‘lil pussy all the fuckin’ time.” Wonwoo smirks, inching closer to you as Jihoon opens the small packet.

“Oh, I do. She loves it when I make a mess of her. But you, however, are a new addition. And only I get to cum inside that pretty ‘lil cunt.” Your entire body thrums with arousal at Wonwoo’s slightly possessive nature, squeezing Jihoon hard as he brings a delicate hand down to roll the condom onto himself. “Guess that’s fair…”

You lick your hand clean of the precum, giggling when Jihoon exhales in shock. “I knew the two of you were nasty.” Wrapping a hand around his cock, you shimmy up his lap until the head is positioned at your entrance. You sink down on him slowly, garbled moans spilling from your mouth when he bottoms out inside of you. “A-ah, fuh--!!” You whimper, body shaking as you’re overcome with pleasure; orgasm washing over you quickly as the two males watch you squirm on Jihoon’s lap.

“All you did was sit on his cock and you’re already cumming? You’re so easy.” Jihoon chuckles, hands massaging and caressing your body as you come down from your sudden high.

“Mmh… m’sorry… feels suh--soo good…” You mewl, already drunk on his cock as you start to bounce in his lap.

“Ngh, you have a really pretty cock…” Jihoon snorts, hands on your hips as you swivel atop his lap. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.. Was thinkin’ about it ‘cause you have pretty hands too…” Wonwoo smirks, tilting your head to the side before he taps the head of his cock against your lips.

“Open up, princess.”

You gladly do, welcoming his cock into your mouth as you start to hollow out your cheeks around him.

“Can I ask you something?” Wonwoo holds your gaze as Jihoon questions, a small hum coming from him to let Jihoon know to continue. “Why’d you pick me?” You clench around Jihoon, his nails digging into your skin before he plants his feet on the ground, harshly thrusting up into you and making your body bounce.

“Well, we thought about Mingyu first but he seemed greedy and less likely to be compliant. Then we thought about Minghao and thought he’s more of a monogamous type of guy. Seokmin was the last option but he seemed like he would be just as bad as Mingyu. You, however, seemed like you’d be… obedient.”

You moan around Wonwoo’s cock, letting your tongue slide against the underside of his shaft as he slowly works more and more of his cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat.

“What makes you think I’d be obedient and not like Mingyu?” Jihoon challenges, watching Wonwoo’s cock disappear into your mouth. He can feel his cock throbbing; your pussy tight around him as you alternate from circling your hips and bouncing in his lap.

Wonwoo smirks, sultry eyes meeting Jihoon’s hazy ones. “Just an assumption.” Jihoon hums, running his hands from your hips to the underneath of your top, squeezing and playing with your breasts. A shiver runs up your spine just as he pinches your nipples between his fingertips. “I can be selfish too.” Jihoon chides.

The two of them alternate their paces, Wonwoo’s hand tangled in your hair guiding your mouth down onto him as Jihoon helps guide your hips. You feel so full of both of them, but the alcohol flowing through your body makes you feel extra sluggish; grinding down slowly onto Jihoon.

“Aww, is the ‘lil princess tired? Do we have to do all the work for you?” You whimper around Wonwoo’s cock at Jihoon’s words. Wonwoo smirks, tugging your hair slightly as he pulls you off of him.

“Let’s get our princess into a better position.” Their eyes meet, silently agreeing as Jihoon helps you off of his lap and onto the sofa on your hands and knees. Your body sags against the leather material as you rest your upper body against it.

But it doesn’t last long before Wonwoo is urging you back up, hand threaded through your hair as he positions his cock back at your lips.

“Make Jihoon cum, princess. Let him feel how fuckin’ tight and wet that filthy cunt is.”

Jihoon sinks his cock back into you at the exact same time Wonwoo does, and in this position Jihoon can control the pace much easier. He fucks into you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. “F-fuck, she’s so fucking tight! She feels so fuckin’ good around my cock.” Jihoon slaps your ass, jerking your body forward as you start to deepthroat Wonwoo. “Such a shame I can’t cum inside her pussy. Then you could’ve had my sloppy seconds ‘n fucked our cum inside of her.”

The two share a devilish chuckle as your body thrums with pleasure; the thought never crossed your mind but the idea of it had you clenching pathetically hard. “Oh? Shit, it seems like she wants that.”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly turned on by the idea as well. “When’s the last time you go checked?” A smirk crosses Jihoon’s features as he runs a free hand through his messy hair.

“Dunno, like last year? When we all got drunk and promised each other we’d get STD tests. I haven’t fucked anyone since then. No time.” Wonwoo pulls you off of his cock as you sputter, spit and precum dribbling down your chin.

“Do you want that? It only happens if you want it, princess. If you say no, that’s final.” The last bit is directed at Jihoon who meets Wonwoo’s stern gaze.

You nod, letting Wonwoo wipe the spit off of your lips. “I... I want.... w-want it...”

The two nod at each other, Jihoon pulling out of you as you whimper. He pulls the condom off, breath shaky when he positions his cock at your entrance. A guttural moan slides off his lips when he starts to sink back into you; your tight walls feeling even better without the barrier.

“Fu--fuck, you feel even better like this. I’m not gonna last long...” Wonwoo lets go of your hair just as Jihoon starts fucking into you hard and fast, letting your upper body rest against the sofa as he watches. “Make Jihoon cum. Let him fill you up, princess.” He wraps a hand around his cock, slowly running it up and down.

You clench around Jihoon, urging him to cum as you try to meet his thrusts. “P-please cum inside of m-me, Jihoon... wanna feel good...” There’s a slight growl, Jihoon’s nails digging into the skin of your ass. “Filthy ‘lil slut, all you want is a fat cock in your pussy filling you up with cum, don’t you?” Wonwoo grins at Jihoon’s words.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Jihoon warns, eyes clenched shut as he feels the pleasure wash over his body, cock snug between your walls as you milk him for all he’s worth. You feel warm, hips wiggling while he fills you up with his cum.

“That’s my good girl.” Wonwoo praises, Jihoon’s rigid body going slack behind you when his high starts to ebb away.

He pulls out of you a moment later, cum already dripping down onto the sofa.

“Fuck, I said don’t make a mess.” Jihoon sleepily remarks, tiredness already overtaking him. But he wraps an arm around your midsection, helping you readjust so that you’re on your back this time; your back against his chest.

Wonwoo scoots over, prying your legs apart as he watches Jihoon’s cum drip from your swollen pussy. “Still think you can take me?” You nod tiredly. “Mmhmm... I--I wanna cum too...” He guides his cock towards your entrance, using the head of it to collect Jihoon’s dripping cum before he slowly eases himself into you.

The two of you share a moan, the familiarity of each other’s body reigniting the pleasure as Wonwoo starts a harsh pace from the beginning; his cock covered in your wetness and Jihoon’s cum when he pulls out.

“You’re still so damn tight even though Jihoon’s already fucked you open, princess.”

You mewl just as Jihoon reaches down, the pads of his fingers on your clit as your back arches off of his chest. “A-ah, mmh, ‘m close! Daddy, I’m so close!” You cry, tears blurring your vision at how quickly your orgasm was building up. Wonwoo’s thrusts are erratic, the urge to cum already quickly building for himself as well.

“Cum then, let me feel you wet this cock before I let you have my cum.”

Jihoon’s fingertips rub harsh circles, teasing and pinching your swollen nub until your body tenses up, cries of Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as your walls flutter around him. Tears slip from your eyes as Wonwoo fucks you through your orgasm; the tightness of your pussy spurring his own orgasm as he unloads his cum into you.

Wonwoo continues to fuck you through his own orgasm, his cock covered in a mixture of his and Jihoon’s cum when he eventually pulls out. You moan tiredly, slumping against Jihoon’s chest as you try to catch your breath.

“Ngh... ‘m tired but hungry...” You slur, body warm from your orgasms. The alcohol’s already worn off; your mind already less hazy as you meet Wonwoo’s eyes. Jihoon nods, yawning as he massages your tired body with his hands.

“We need to get you cleaned up and then we can go eat.” Wonwoo licks his lips, eyes darting down to the cum pooling underneath you. Jihoon follows his gaze, smirking when he understands Wonwoo’s train of thought.

“We’ll both get you cleaned up. How’s that sound?”

#fratboy!wonwoo #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios

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cupcakemolotov · 4 years ago

Text

Twisted Intentions: Chapter Two

@accidental-rambler let us not go back and check how long this chapter has been coming, yeah? But I think its finally finished? Probably. We are ending it here, at least.

Everyone please be checking the tags on this one. It is a fairly more darker take than I usually do, these two crazy murder fiends, and there is smut. The first scene below has some murder to it, but nothing smutty. You can find both chapters on A03: Chapter One, Chapter Two.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Regency; Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon; Possessive Klaus Mikaelson; Vampire Caroline; F/F Smut; M/F smut; Non-Klaroline Smut (referenced); Referenced Threesome F/F/M; Canon-Typical Violence; Not Canon Compliant; Dark Caroline Forbes; Past-Prostitution; Klaroline End Game; no non-con; Suggested Sexual Coercion; Vampire Klaus Mikaelson; Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson; Compulsion; Murder; Dark; Violence; Smut; Orgasm Delay/Denial; Oral Sex; Sex; Murder Kink; Biting; Blood Kink; Mutual Masturbation

The pub was quiet so early in the evening, dust lingering the corners the same as the plague lingered on the street. It was not a place she would have willingly visited, but some summons could not be ignored. Casually, she ran her fingers over her lips to make sure she’d cleaned up any of the blood that might have lingered.

Today was her third day as a vampire, and tonight had been her first solo deliberate kill. Her sire had taught her how to compel a man, the taste of a rabbiting pulse against her tongue, the fastest way to a heart with her fingers, and she had taken well to the hunt. Caroline felt no shame in learning to enjoy what she had become, to embrace the choice that she had been given, that she had made.

Some monsters, after all, were not nearly so kind as to show their devil’s bargains with fangs and eyes, though she had learned to recognize them all the same. But while the life of a whore had taught her many things, this new existence had been illuminating. Caroline had learned to avoid the sun, begun to learn the language of the night outside of the stained sheets of her old bedroom, and not once had she gone hungry. Here in the midst of the plague, blood was as easy to steal as the streets made dying, and for the first time in her seventeen years, she felt strong. Powerful. The predator instead of prey, and it was a heady feeling after years of being powerless.

But dangerous. She could not forget the dangers of this new life. Dangerous that she had not yet fully come to recognize. While her sire was indulgent of his newest creations, she was not such a fool to take his pretty did not hide a terrible sort of lethal practicality. Those dimples masked a violence she had caught lingering in his eyes, and every instinct she had warned her that there was more to him than he wanted her to know. He was deliberately mysterious, and while he’d offered so few expectations for their behavior, showing them how best to indulge their sins, and Caroline wondered why.

Compulsion was no idle tool, and though it had opened the world to so many whims, greed was a risk she was not willing to indulge in. Not yet. Humans might easily be bent to her will, but she would do well to remember the lessons she’d learned and been taught in her handful of years. Avarice could leave her the fattened calf for others as easily she could take from those less wise. She was not the only creation her sire had made, and from his offhand comments, age seemed to make a difference in strength.

Better then, to teach herself control, to master every instinct and then indulge only when she controlled every aspect of the experience. She had no intention of letting the gift she had been given control her, not when she’d vowed never again would she have a master except herself.

Never again.

Though she would have to be careful.

Glancing towards the back of the room, she pursed her lips at the trio of men who unknowingly awaited her presence at a table. Caroline recognized two of them from her lessons, though her sire had not introduced her to them. She had not asked to know them, not when she understood how they watched her. Lustful, but stupid.

They thought themselves clever, and the new monster that lived in her bone and marrow that she knew in the back of her throat as hunger, did not approve of their ilk. They’d smelled weak. Eager. It wasn’t her place to judge her sire’s choices, but she’d been certain he’d picked up on her disapproval.

Chosen to be amused rather than offended.

Tonight, the blood that stained their clothing, the scent of sex and death that lingered on their skin did nothing endure her to them. Mixing those pleasures when you had so little control told her that her original assessment had been correct. Wrinkling her nose, Caroline wondered if leaving would be a mark against her.

She was not given the chance to find out.

Awareness and warning prickled down her spine, and Caroline turned to find her sire watching her from the doorway. His lips curled at the edges, a hint of dimple catching in one cheek, and he strode forward to meet her. “Good evening, love. I must say, your new life suits you.”

His eyes dropped from her face to skim her figure, the dimple deepening. Caroline gave the endearment little meaning, he dolled out charm too easily for it to be sincere. But even knowing some of his truth, the impact of him was unavoidable. Her sire was a feast for her eyes and the monster she had become did not find the violence of him unbecoming.

However, the compliment was sincere, so she allowed a smile to touch her lips. Her new dress was well made, but not so expensive to draw attention, but it was pretty and hers. It had been a very long time since she owned her own clothes.

“Thank you.”

His gaze swept back to her face as he approached and offered her his arm. She took it, because she would not be accused of not having manners, and he sighed, head angling as if letting her into his confidence. She took no stock in that either.

“It is a pity that the same cannot be said for the rest.”

Klaus, Caroline had learned, was as mercurial with his violence as he was with his mercy. He’d plucked her from the street as easily as he’d left others to die, had shown her the fastest way to a man’s heart with dimples and bloody clothes. Tonight, there was something in his voice, a hint of roughness that did not bode well for any of them and she had no intention of being a target for that rage.

“They seem to lack some... subtlety,” she agreed.

His smile shifted to a sort of dangerous amusement. “Let’s find out just how little they have exhibited, shall we?”

Very aware that this was not her choice, Caroline merely hummed in agreement and let him escort her to the table. Violence did not frighten her, but something about the way he moved, the pleasant tilt of his lips, was unnerving.

“Hello, lads. It seems that you have enjoyed yourselves.”

They went still in front of her, a court very aware of its king’s displeasure, for all that he was smiling. Lifting Caroline’s hand from his arm, he brushed her knuckles lightly with his lips. “Do make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

In the next heartbeat, he’d twisted and was suddenly holding a twitching heart in his left hand. Caroline paused from where she’d gathered her skirts to settle, her heart a thump in her throat at the ease, the speed of his strike. But it wasn’t exactly fear that danced beneath her skin, though wariness had her watching him carefully. Settling the heart casually on the table, he motioned for her to sit on the empty seat.

She sat.

Reaching into his pocket, Klaus removed a handkerchief and meticulously began to clean his hand. “It really is so much easier to deal with baby vampires when the sire bond exists, but I suppose you can’t win them all.” His smile widened at the sudden, sharp stink of fear. “I am a benevolent ruler, but there are some lines that will not be tolerated being crossed. Leaving bodies where they can be found by anyone, even during a plague, will not be allowed. Is that understood?”

Next to them, the body finally toppled to the floor, as if it had finally understood it was dead. Caroline stared at the heartless vampire, considered how quickly his life had been snuffed out, and she arranged her skirts to avoid the growing puddle of blood while wondering why she was here. She had not been so careless with her teeth or metaphorical cock.

Across from her, the remaining vampires stammered their understanding, but when her eyes returned to her sire’s face, it was to find him watching her. There was something about his expression, the set of his jaw, that left her very certain that this mess was much as a message for her as for them, and she worked through the whys. The point of this little warning. This show.

She had no care for these men, and she was certain, neither did her sire. Even with this warning, it was likely the remaining two vampires would be dead within the week. Klaus had never struck her as anything but calculating, even in his whims, and it dawned on her that perhaps that was his point.

Her sire wanted her to see just how easily he would snuff the life from his creations, should it be necessary. Should they make it necessary... Vampires were monsters, but they were hidden, tucked carefully between the shadows of the nights and humanity’s soft dreams of safety.

But if they did, he might offer a quick, clean death. That message was for these men. Her message was tangled in the quickness of the death, the way he had offered her his arm before leading her to this little slaughter. He might find her amusing, might be indulgent of her opinions, but she could not count on that indulgence to save her.

Caroline tipped her in silent acknowledgement of his message. Betrayal, she knew without it being said, would have far more dire consequences.

Link: A03

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #darker than usual #please mind the tags #thank you!

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haughtshotgun · 4 years ago

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12 and 50 pleasseeeeeeeee

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE MY LIFE IS MESS AS FUCK RIGHT NOW 🙃 thank you 😊

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

She wanted to hate Waverly for hiding her, hiding them, but she couldn’t. Hate was the opposite of what she felt for the brunette who was on the makeshift dance floor, circled by a group of her preppy friends. Nicole did loath these parties though. The thumbing music and sweaty frat boys eying women like prey made her stomach coil. The ginger brought her beer bottle to her lips and took a long swig. As she did, hazel eyes caught her own and Nicole removed the beer from her mouth with a smirk.

Wordlessly, the ginger left the room, hoping Waverly would take the bait. Nicole walked down a dark hallway to a tucked away corner of the college apartment. It wasn’t long before she heard light footsteps following behind her. She emptied her beer and discarded the bottle on a side table.

“Hey, sexy,” Waverly cooed as she came into view. Her chestnut waves framed her face as she wore a wicked smile. The brunette’s baby blue crop-top teased just the right amount of skin and instantly Nicole’s hands were on the tone expanse of stomach muscles. “Fuck!” Waverly exclaimed at the surprised touch.

In an airy laugh Nicole whispered, “That can be arranged.” Hands found the back of her head, fingers gripping her auburn locks to pull her closer. Their lips met in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, want and need. Nicole felt her body abuzz with desire as Waverly pressed her against the wall with a thud. The vibration from the wall caused the beer to fall off the table, crashing onto the pine floor with a deafening smash.

“Shit!” Waverly cursed, eyes wide with shock. Nicole begrudgingly removed her hands from warm skin and took one of Waverly’s in her own.

“Let’s get out of here,” the ginger suggested, her true intentions playing through the smirk on her lips.

Waverly gave a quick nod and peck to Nicole’s lip, the action making her heart flutter. With a squeeze of a soft hand, Nicole guided them out of the apartment through the back entrance. They giggled as they jogged away from the scene of the crime with their fingers laced and beer blushes tinting their cheeks. Nicole felt like she was flying next to Waverly when they suddenly stopped, the brunette halting them in their tracks.

“Waves?”

“Go on a date with me,” Waverly blurted out, her chest slightly rising and falling. The ginger blinked dumbly for a second, her tilted like a confused puppy and eyebrows furrowed. “I’m done hiding you, hiding this. Let’s do it right, Nic.” Hazel eyes glimmered under a street light and Nicole could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

“God, Waverly, yes,” Nicole chuckled and wrapped the smaller woman in a tight hug.

They stood there like that for who knows how long. Front pressed to front, arms securely around each other, fearing if they let go one would float away. They soaked each other in under the new light and for the first time in a long time, Nicole felt at peace.

50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

Canon Compliant

Waverly marveled at Nicole. She was frozen in place on the porch at the sight of her. Her auburn mane was tamed in a loose bun with a flannel wrapped around her waist as her defined back and arms swung an ax down on a log of wood. There was a faint outline of sweat on the ginger’s blue tank top and each time metal met wood a soft grunt left full lips. The lemonade Waverly had fully intended on giving to her fiancée was now dripping condensation on her fingers, a clear sign of her distraction.

She collected herself, waited until the ax was stil, and called out, “You make a sexy lumberjack, sweetie!” Nicole turned on her booted heel with a beaming smile on her mouth. “Brought you some lemonade!” Waverly walked over to the ginger on the lawn while Nicole took a moment of reprieve from the laborious housework and sat on a stump, ax placed carefully off to the side.

“How did I get so lucky?” Nicole chuckled and Waverly dismissively waved the thought away.

Once in front of her fiancée, she sat on Nicole’s lap and handed her the glass. “It’s not luck. It’s destiny.” Waverly watched as honey eyes sparkled with happiness in the afternoon light.

The brunette rested an arm on sturdy shoulders and smiled at the feeling of a soft hand at the small of her back. She licked the pad of her left thumb and brought it up to the smudge mark on Nicole’s cheek, a souvenir of her progress.

The older woman nodded knowingly and let out a breathy chuckle before bringing the drink to her lips. The combination of her fiancée’s body heat all around her and the way Nicole’s lips pressed against the glass made Waverly bite her lip in want. Nicole removed the lemonade from her mouth, setting it on the grass. Waverly replaced the newly empty space with her needy lips, humming at the sour taste she found there. Arms quickly wrapped around her middle and pulled her closer as their lips moved together in a metered rhythm.

Waverly was first to pull away. Her lips trailed down to the point of Nicole’s chin and she gently nipped the ivory skin there. “Baby,” the ginger moaned lowly. Waverly smirked against the ridge of Nicole’s jaw, alternating between playful bites and smoothing presses. Hands soon slipped into the back pockets of her jeans and fingers gripped her ass through denim.

“Nicole,” Waverly groaned into soft skin, her hips betraying her with slightest rock. She kissed along Nicole’s jaw to the hinge and gently sucked on the skin there. Even with a thin layer of sweat on the ginger’s skin, now salt on Waverly’s tongue, she still tasted like vanilla dipped donuts. The hands at her ass kneaded with more purpose and the brunette hummed happily knowing that only she could do this to Nicole.

“W-Waves… I’m all gross and sweaty,” Nicole weakly protested when Waverly moved her lips down her neck.

The brunette just chuckled and continued, switching between hot, opened mouth kisses and teasing flicks of her tongue. Waverly, even with the slight brine of Nicole’s hardwork in her mouth, loved every taste of her fiancée - and she knew how to get more. With determination, the brunette skated her lips down to the junction of Nicole’s neck and collarbone. Without second thought she clamped down on sensitive skin and sucked, relishing in the way her fiancée whimpered and jerked at the action.

Waverly released the flesh in her mouth when they were suddenly lifted. “That’s it.” Nicole’s voice was stern as her hands gripped the back of Waverly’s thighs.

The brunette smirked in victory, wrapped her legs around Nicole’s strong middle, and asked in faux confusion, “where are we going?” She peppered sweet kisses to Nicole’s cheek as the ginger carried her up the porch and into the homestead.

With a throaty chuckle, Nicole replied, “We’re going to get clean then so, so dirty.”

Waverly didn’t even attempt to stifle the moan that fell from her. These were the things they did to each other and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#apersonofmanywords #nicole haught #wearp #wayhaught #waverly earp #writing prompt

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trashyazeohane · 4 years ago

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Take me back

Summary: It was supposed to be Merlin waiting for Arthur, not the other way around. At least this was what Arthur had heard at the Lake of Avalon. This was what the Lady of the Lake had told him. But he was here, alive, thriving, breathing, with all his memories and close friends at his side.

Arthur was here and Merlin was not. Something was wrong.

Additional comments: Slow Burn, Angst, Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Reincarnation, Modern Settings

Not beta-read, so it may contain some mistakes!

You can also read it on AO3! Enjoy!

━━━━━ *:･ﾟ��*:･ﾟ✧

For some people Arthur’s morning could be called mundane, but not for him.

Okay, maybe it was a little bit monotonous, but he liked it this way. There was a crispy touch of comfort that came with it, with knowing every step like the back of his hand. There was something refreshing in opening his eyes and not being crushed down by all the responsibilities that had hovered above his shoulders, just waiting for a perfect moment to pounce, anticipating the time when he would let his guard down to consume the mind.

No, there were no more heavy responsibilities. There were duties, but they were light, almost delicate, familiar and comforting in their repetitiveness.

Arthur liked mornings now.

(He hadn’t thought he would ever say it. There was definitely something missing in his brain, as Gwaine would nicely point out.)

So he stood up and started his day, following the unwritten plan - take a quick shower, brush the teeth, find some fresh clothes, try to tame his hair, grab the phone, keys and wallet. The usual. The familiar.

After the morning routine was finished, he walked down, moving towards the source of sounds and voices. And it was coming from the place below his apartment.

He opened the well-known door, finding peace in the lock jumping away as he pushed the handle down. And then he was stepping into the sweet smelling kitchen, filled to the brim with sounds and warmness that curled around the bones.

The radio was playing, letting the music swim around the kitchen. The turned on oven was humming. The pot on the cooker was boiling, hissing from time to time. The water in the coffee machine was huffing.

And there was Gwen, smiling and humming under her nose as she mixed things in a bowl, not caring that the mixer was blocking almost all the sounds. Or that there was a tornado of noises.

Arthur grabbed his apron, throwing it around his neck, and then, after tying it behind his back, he stepped next to her.

“Good morning, Guinevere.”

The girl jumped, making the mixer screech as it hit the wall of the bowl.

“Arthur! Don’t sneak up on me!” She shouted, swirling around to him and furrowing her eyebrows.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to, but it’s hard not to when it so loud in here.”

Gwen sighed and then turned off the mixer, letting the same smile return to her lips.

“Sorry, I overslept a little bit. Wanted to get everything done in time.”

Arthur moved towards the coffee machine, where his favourite mug had been already placed, now filled to the brim with coffee. Just how he liked it.

“Exhausting night with Lancelot?” Arthur asked, feeling the smirk tugging on his lips.

Gwen swatted his shoulder with a dishcloth.

“Arthur!” She shrieked, letting the red haze cover her cheeks.

Gladly he had stepped back in time as to not be hit by the vicious cloth, although he almost had spilled some of his drink. This definitely couldn’t do. It was his morning elixir, the only thing that pushed him forward during this hard time.

“What? Seriously, you should stop blushing like a twelve year old maiden after living with him for six years.”

“Not everyone has such debauched mind as you.”

Arthur raised his other hand, making another step back.

“I think my mind is totally fine. Gwaine’s one on the other hand…” He shuddered. “That is one debauched mind.”

Gwen opened her lips to retort back, letting the words curl in her throat, when there was a spark and she clamped her mouth shut.

“Yeah, okay maybe you’re right on this one.” She said in the end.

Arthur grinned. He loved to be the winner.

Gwen glared at him, putting both hands on her hips.

“Brush that smirk away from your face.” She said, angrily.

Or well, at least she tried to sound angry, probably, but the smear of flour on her cheek was preventing her from looking mad. That and the fact that it was hard to look dangerous in their aprons.

(They were supposedly really adorable, according to a lot of their customers. It hadn’t been Arthur who had picked them, to be honest. But they had paid for them, so they had to use them.)

Arthur, even if he wanted to, couldn’t simply brush the smirk away. Because Gwen’s angry look was making him grin even wider.

So they stood there, staring at each other, a clearly fighting stance in both their poses and minds, waiting for the other to say something, anything, when a low hiss interrupted their inner brawl.

Gwen snapped her eyes to the side and shouted.

“My milk!”

And that was somehow the end of the small fight.

When Gwen busied herself with pushing the pot away from the stove, Arthur took a sip of the coffee and exited the kitchen, walking towards the main part of his everyday life.

(If someone would have told him back in Camelot, that he would be working in a pastry shop, Arthur would probably have laughed out loud, brushing away a stray tear from his eye, and then would have sent the peasant or knight on their merry way. Maybe even with a gold coin for lifting up his mood with this incredible joke.

Guess this was his life now.)

Arthur flicked the lights, bathing the main parlor with light.

There was an echo of silence that enveloped him after that. It was weird, because he could still hear Gwen walking around the kitchen, the fridge buzzing, helping the cakes live through the night, the AC wheezing as it let the cool air dance around the room. And yet, it was the silence and calmness that hugged him right now, the steady rhythm of the beating heart when the world didn’t exactly wake up just yet.

He raked his eyes across the familiar floor, the known walls, filled with photos and colorful pictures, the tables that definitely needed cleaning before they could be open for guests, the cash register, where the numbers were already fading, but he still could remember happily pushing the buttons his mom had asked him to, and the cake display fridge, their heartful companion through so many years.

It was his life now and no matter how weird it sounded, he really loved it.

Especially calm mornings like this one. When everything was just right for a moment, a split second.

Arthur took a sip, put the cup down and then moved to start putting down the chairs from their resting places atop the tables.

Even the king had to work.

***

“Do you have your books?”

“Yes.”

“Pencil case?”

“Yep.”

“Lunch?”

“Already packed.”

“Water?”

“Dad!”

He halted in his ministrations as he corrected the small jacket, tugging on the collar to put it in place.

The boy standing in front stared at him for a moment, looking right into his eyes, only to let a small smile slip past his lips.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to be late for school.”

Merlin nodded, although he already felt three more question rolling across his tongue.

But Galahad had a point. It was already incredibly late and if they didn’t come out in a few minutes, they could be late. And being late meant being in the center of attention and he didn’t want that.

No.

But there was still one more question.

Merlin ducked his head and while looking sheepishly at the boy he asked.

“Your phone?”

The boy sighed.

“Already in my pocket.” And to prove his point, he even patted it a few times.

Merlin smiled and stood up from his kneeling position, feeling his knees jerk a few times. He looked over the boy one more time, checking that every part of the clothes was in place and wasn’t askew or sticking out. But no, everything was perfect.

He stretched his hand out.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for the last five minutes.” Galahad answered, rolling his eyes a bit, but obediently grabbed the palm, squeezing the fingers and interlacing them in the end.

Merlin didn’t answer, but moved forward, towards the door, only to stop in front of the mirror hanging near it, showing them the perfect copy of their silhouettes, their faces, their hairs and their clothes. The thief of all their visible details.

He inhaled deeply.

“So? What’s the idea for today?” He asked.

Galahad furrowed his eyebrows, nibbling on his lip as thousand thoughts ran through his head.

Every day the same scheme and yet every day something new.

“I want to have brown hair, but longer! Blue eyes! And freckles!” A small pause. “Maybe less pointy ears.”

He sighed halfheartedly. This again.

(It wasn’t Galahad’s or Merlin’s fault. It was just genetics.)

“And this red jacket we saw last week!”

Easy enough.

“And me?” Merlin asked, glancing down at the small boy.

Galahad scrunched his nose again, letting an ocean of wrinkles appear on his nose.

“Blond! Curly hair! Brown eyes! Bigger nose!” He accented every word with a smile, swinging their connected hands back and forth. “And a different sweater.”

Merlin blinked.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

Galahad looked at him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow, like this one small movement could answer every question.

It didn’t. Although it also didn’t stop a pang of unfounded sadness from echoing through his chest, rippling the calm surface of his mind with shivering waves.

(Stop.)

“It’s ugly.” The boy finally said.

It wasn’t Merlin’s best sweater, but it wasn’t that terrible. Okay, maybe it was greatly out of style and it wasn’t as soft as it had used to be, but it was still comfortable enough for him to wear. Also it made him feel safe, more protected, better sheltered.

But what wouldn’t he do for his son? Galahad didn’t know how he felt about the sweater anyway.

He nodded in the end.

“Okay then. Are you ready?”

“Yep!”

And after that they closed their eyes.

He felt a soft nudge of the energy first, like a skittish animal, residing somewhere inside his body, looking behind the cave walls to check whether it was safe to go out or not. It looked at him, waiting for a sign that it was okay. And Merlin touched it, caressed, stroked delicately, brushing the fingers across the surface, showing that right now, in this very moment, it was okay to go out.

After that the energy, this power, didn’t need any more encouragement. It pounced and pranced and ran and jumped and leaped around his body, moved through his organs, sang in his bloodstream, mingled with his breath and drummed with his heart.

It was warm, welcoming, familiar and yet anew.

But Merlin had priorities, very important ones.

He tried to conjure the image Galahad had proposed to him, showing the way for the power to move, to show itself, pointing in the right directions.

And it shimmered, purred near his bones and nuzzled his skin, curling around the body, warming him from the inside to the very end of his fingertips. Happy to please, happy to move, happy to do something, happy to be free.

Merlin opened his eyes and couldn’t recognize himself anymore.

Galahad next to him still had his eyes closed, although Merlin could see that he managed to finish almost all of the changes to his appearance. The keyword was almost.

After a few more seconds, Galahad snapped his eyes open, the curly black hair now replaced with brown locks jumping around as he swung his head.

“What do you think?” Galahad asked, excitedly looking up at him.

Merlin hummed, tilting his head. With his free hand he nudged the energy to his fingers, letting it curl around the tips, and then he slowly brushed one auburn strand behind the ear, which immediately shrank.

Or at least to other people the ears looked smaller.

“You missed a spot.” He said.

Galahad pouted and then hung his head.

“I never can get the ears right.” He whined.

Merlin tugged his hand, directing them towards the door, letting a small snort to escape his lips.

“One day you will get it on a first try.”

The boy didn’t look like he believed him, but he followed him nevertheless.

The Sun welcomed their faces as they exited the building after defeating a few set of stairs. People sauntered around the street, walking fast or strolling slowly, glancing at their phones or looking straight forward, but not seeing anything.

It was easy to blend with the crowd at this hour. A small movement and they were already invisible to the world.

They walked quickly, methodically, swimming among the mass of people passing them by, invisible, but always a part of the wave, diving and never peeking above the surface.

It was good, the bigger the crowd, the easier it was for them to disappear.

What was needed was a small push, a sudden swirl, step behind this woman or that man and then they simply vanished.

They walked forward with Galahad obediently clenching his hand and Merlin looking around, trying to find any people who would look weird, out of place, unnatural in the busy morning routine, nudging the energy inside of him to help him search.

But there was no one suspicious.

First street, second street, third street, stopping near the crossroad, waiting for the light to turn green, then stepping forward.

When they were close enough to their destination, Merlin tugged his son in one alleyway, which would make the trip a bit longer, but was necessary. Here no one could see them, no one could see the spark in his eyes which Galahad often pointed out.

(Galahad called it magic. Merlin didn’t, couldn’t.)

And no one could see two different people emerging from the other side.

He pleaded the power inside of him to help and it did, gladly, happily, joyfully, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks as it changed, morphed their appearances one more time.

Galahad surprisingly remained silent, even though he had to feel the sudden gust of warm wind on his skin too.

They emerged on the other side and jumped back into the stream of people minding their own businesses, hiding in their shadows and silhouettes, pretending to be invisible and hoping that the whole world would believe it.

(It had to.)

They walked one more street, collecting a few colorful leaves here and there, tying the shoelaces that got untied due to jumping above a sewer grate and then they were at their destination.

Merlin kneeled in front of his son, putting both hands on his shoulders and leaning closer to be audible above the throng of cheery voices shouting around them as the rest of the kids ran toward the school.

“Remember, if anything happens, call me.”

Galahad rolled his eyes.

“I know, dad.”

“And don’t go anywhere without me.”

“Yep, I remember.”

“And do not-“

“Dad!” Galahad shouted.

Merlin immediately shut his mouth.

There was a sound of soft shuffling and then the boy grabbed Merlin’s wrist, letting his thumb brush the skin gently, comforting and anchoring.

“I will be fine.” He said. “Don’t worry.”

Merlin couldn’t not worry. But nevertheless he couldn’t say it, so he only opted for a small nod, a hesitant grin, a quick hug and then he was standing up and pushing his son forward.

“Have a great day at school.”

Galahad swirled on his heel and waved at him.

“Yeah, see you later!”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the building, moving with the stream of the other kids.

Merlin stood there for a minute or so, staring, trying to find something, not exactly sure what, but just anything that would sooth his mind and soul.

Only when his heart gave a lurch, he turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd.

***

“Can I get a few more napkins?”

“Be right with you, ma’am.”

Arthur obediently placed more napkins in the holder.

“Can we get another refill on the coffee?”

“In a second.”

He poured the coffee into two cups.

“Where is the bathroom?”

“The first door on the right.”

The woman smiled at him.

It felt like it would never end. People came and came and came and it didn’t feel like they would stop coming.

(He knew it was good for the business, for him, but sometimes, for a moment, he just hoped to not hear that damn bell ring again, for everything to suddenly stop so he could brush his forehead with a clean cloth.)

But he was the boss here. And it didn’t matter that he was the ex-king, a job needed to be done.

It felt like an eternity had passed before his bones were allowed to rest, as he slumped down on a chair in the kitchen.

The customers were still sitting in the shop, but there were less of them and most of the morning ones had already left, leaving a few tables empty. The chatters still swam around, but no one was currently standing near the cash register, neither it looked like they needed anything.

So Arthur finally could take a break.

“I can see that we had a busy morning.” Gwen happily prompted, flicking a few droplets of water at him.

“Well, would be less busy if you could help at the front.”

“I can’t. Remember the order for two dozen macarons for three pm?”

Ah, Arthur totally forgot.

“Well, any help still would be nice.” He moaned, even though he knew it held no power.

Gwen looked at him, raising one eyebrow, but with a bit of sadness and guilt shimmering in her eyes.

“Sorry.” She said.

Arthur didn’t blame her. He just had to whine a lot, because dealing with it all was always easier out loud. Especially if it was Gwen who was listening to him. Although after some time even she couldn’t stand his grumbles, groans and comments here and there.

“No harm done. The order is important too.”

“On the bright side, Beatrice should be coming soon for her shift, so you’ll be free.”

“Finally.” He huffed.

Gwen glanced at him, but then returned to making the macarons.

Arthur knew he should help her, he wanted to help her, but in the same time he had to take a break, spend a few minutes breathing deeply, feeling his chest expand under the strain of the muscles being used too much.

Who knew working in the pastry shop could be so exhausting?

Gwen hummed to herself as she approached the oven and glanced inside, nodding to herself, clearly happy with the outcoming results.

She walked elegantly around the kitchen, yet with a hint of joy to her movements, stretching her hands and fiddling with the equipment with some kind of delicacy and softness that made the place more mesmerizing.

It was just baking, but somehow it felt like magic to Arthur.

And it always reminded him of home – of Camelot.

(No. He shook his head. Camelot wasn’t his home anymore. It hadn’t been for a pretty long time. Yet when he observed Gwen walking around, clearly knowing what to do, he couldn’t not see the serving girl from several hundred years ago.)

“Lance got a promotion.”

“He did?” Arthur absentmindedly asked, not hiding that he was looking at the girl.

Not in the affectionate way, no. She was his dear friend, but that was all Gwen was right now. The incredible friend. And Arthur was okay with that. No, more than that, he wanted for her to be his friend, nothing more.

“Yeah. His hard work finally paid off.”

“That’s amazing!” And it really was. “Are you planning to celebrate it somehow?”

Gwen shrugged.

“Lance didn’t tell me anything, but I’m thinking of taking him out for dinner this weekend.”

Arthur smiled at her.

“You totally should do that. I know a guy who has an incredible Mexican restaurant five streets away from here. I can give you his number.” He leaned forward, bending his back which was right now killing him.

And he wasn’t even that old, thank you very much.

“Oh, that would be amazing!”

Arthur took out his phone, found the correct contact info and sent it to Gwen’s mobile, which peeped happily from behind the apron.

“Here you go.” He stated and then put the phone on the counter. “Tell him you know me. He will give you the best seats.”

Gwen looked at him, grinning from ear to ear, making the stars shimmer in her deep eyes and a light blush to spread like snow on her freckled cheeks.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

He felt his chest squeeze and expand, burst like a supernova, only to collapse into itself as a sudden wave of memories enveloped his heart.

(The same smile, no, not the same, not her smile, someone else’s smile - brighter, broader, yet delicate and soft, shimmering like the Northern lights, captivating, endearing, smile that could make his chest flutter and wash all the problems away…)

Arthur’s breath hitched and he covered it with a cough.

“No problem. You deserve a break. You help me so much around here.”

“Oh, Arthur…” Gwen gently started, looking at him with mirth still dancing in her eyes, but also with a hint of nostalgia of lives that already had ended long time ago and the remaining memories that still plagued their days. But then the smile was replaced by an impish smirk and an evil glint. “You should have been so open back then. It would save us all a lot of worry and time.”

“Well, hard to be open when you’re the king.” Arthur mused back, raising his eyebrow. “It’s an easy way to get manipulated.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not the king anymore.” Gwen continued, looking at him. “You look happier now.”

(The fact that he didn’t have thousands lives on his shoulders and conscience every day clearly helped.)

But what Gwen had said was true. He was happier. He had loved Camelot, he still did, but he must admit that he also loved his new life. It was different, astonishingly so, almost like his whole past life had been turned upside down.

“I am.” Arthur admitted. “Or well I will be once–”

The words scratched his throat, halting in their journey and then crashed down, right towards the bottom of his stomach, making it twist painfully inside the body.

It was a conversation they already had had a thousand, if not more, times. Over and over again, with different people, throwing around speculations, possibilities, memories, pushing the gears, coming up with ideas–

Still with the same results.

It just frustrated him and pained, both in the same time.

Gwen stopped moving her hands, which had been whipping the cream, to glance at him, the worried crease adorning her forehead.

He could see the pain and ache that thrummed through her eyes at the soft mention, at the hesitant reminder, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Gwen inhaled deeply, bracing her shoulders and looking up at him with focus so intense that it could cut any stone in half. And then, in one swift movement, she clutched the hand he had been keeping on the counter, gripping it tightly for a moment.

“We will find him, Arthur.” She said, promised and gave her word.

And he stared at her, trying to memorize the pure certainty that was radiating off her.

He wished he could be so certain, instead he was plagued by the possibilities and dark outcomes that didn’t want to leave his mind.

Nevertheless he nodded, gripping her palm back.

“I know.”

And then she moved away, keeping a watchful gaze from time to time on his tired silhouette. A protector, a knight on duty, watching, waiting for a movement to take out a shield and a sword.

Arthur snickered under his nose.

Well, how the tables had turned.

***

He had a bad feeling. There was this weird echo, a string shimmering somewhere inside his chest, a delicate touch of a hand on his shoulder that pushed him away from the course.

He had a bad feeling and his gut never failed him.

“Dad!”

Nevertheless Merlin couldn’t stop the smile from bursting on his lips as he saw the familiar mop of hairs running towards him.

(Or as familiar as it could be, still with the change being there.)

He caught the boy as he jumped at him, wrapping his hands around the small body to feel the warm presence near his heart.

“Hey, sport.” He said, tightening the grip for a second, enjoying the brief moment of calmness before he put the boy down. “How was your school today?”

Galahad immediately lurched himself onto his palm, grabbing it like an anchor of a ship.

“Great! Damien and I were doing the Math exercise and then Sophia…”

Galahad’s story jumped left and right, high and low, changing the course at least three times. It was a feat to try to remain on track with everything that was leaving Galahad’s mouth, but Merlin tried his best to not let his mind get astray.

They walked, with Merlin listening to his son prattling happily about this class or that kid in the school, merrily recollecting what had happened today and the days before.

These short moments – smiling face, shining, blinking eyes, scrunched in joy nose – filled Merlin’s heart was warmness, spreading it around, letting the energy prance and dance around him, curling around his chest like foxes and coyotes during the cold night.

He listened and looked around, observing, cataloguing the surroundings. People walked around, passed them, brushed against their shoulders, slipped next to them.

It was a big crowd and they should have easily disappeared in it.

They should.

And yet there was a soft nudge of the energy, gripping his chin and letting his head tilt a little bit to the left, almost like it was pointing at something.

Merlin’s heart shattered.

There it was, the sensation, the darkness folding itself around the silhouette of a man. The man who was looking at them, curiously, judging, calculating.

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine. His hand tightened the grip on the palm of his son as he walked forward, trying to move faster, but also to not look suspicious. The energy flowing through Merlin’s body floated down, moving towards Galahad’s face to hold it gently and make him only stare forward and not look around.

The boy immediately quieted, gripping his hand in response, interlacing two fingers to have a better grip.

Merlin could feel eyes on his back as he crossed the road, trying to hide behind a group of teenagers.

“Dad?” Galahad quietly asked and it was a miracle that in the noise and tumult he heard him.

“Don’t look around.” He whispered.

The boy obediently nodded, staring forward with focus and fear mixing, mingling on his face. The trepidation was there too, swimming across the skin, pushing and pulling the muscles.

The energy flowed back to him, watchfully glancing around, sensing the surroundings.

One here, two there, another one in front of them.

It didn’t look good. It didn’t feel right.

There was a bus stop in front of them, filled with people, and a slowly approaching bus behind.

“We’re going to take a detour.” Merlin said, trying to smile at the boy.

Galahad bopped his head.

They managed to sneak onto the bus, letting the door close swiftly and quickly behind them, preventing anyone from stepping inside. And if Merlin helped the door to stay open for three or four more seconds only for them, then no one needed to know that.

Another small movement, a nudge, a sensation he was sure he should know and remember, but couldn’t find it in his mind and memory, helped him to create a fake image of two bus passes.

The driver didn’t notice the difference. No one did.

Merlin tugged Galahad forward and they sat down on the seats on the side facing the road.

The boy shifted and curled into his body, hiding beneath the arm that Merlin had thrown across his shoulder.

He could hear and feel the boy’s heart thump rapidly in his body as the stress and nervousness took over the nerves.

It was going to be okay. Somehow.

He patted Galahad’s hair softly and kissed it as the bus brought them further into the city.

***

Arthur hummed to himself to the rhythm of some weird pop song that floated from the radio standing on the cupboard.

His hands methodically cleaned the dishes, getting rid of the dark spots from coffees or crumbles remaining after eaten cakes.

Gwen took over the pastry shop and cafe for a moment, so Arthur could rest a bit – which meant dealing with the responsibilities that didn’t need interacting with the customers. And he was okay with that.

It calmed him, in a weird way.

Apparently the calmness couldn’t stay for long, as the door to the back exit suddenly burst open and a giant silhouette stepped inside.

Arthur lifted his one eyebrow.

“Did you learn manners from Gwaine?” He asked.

The man turned to him and grinned wildly, holding two giant crates in both his hands. They looked incredibly heavy, but for the man it seemed like they weighed no more than two puppies or kittens.

“Arthur! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Where else am I supposed to be, Percival? I work here.”

He owned this place, but that was beside the point.

Percival beamed at him and put the two crates down, which let out a loud thud as they were met face to face with the floor. Heavy indeed.

“I know, but at this time you’re usually at the front.”

“Gwen took over for a moment, we had an incredibly busy morning and I needed a break.” Arthur said, whirling to the sink and turning off the water, which to this point had been still flowing over his hands, painting them in pinkish hues.

“Weird way to relax, but whatever swings your boat, man.” Percival patted the crates. “I brought you your supply.” Then he grabbed a device hanging on his neck. He pushed a few buttons which beeped tiredly. “And I need you to sign here.”

Arthur dried his hands on the dish cloth hanging on his shoulder, walked to Percival, grabbed the pen he was giving him and then wrote his own messy signature on the electronic screen. It looked more like scrawls than his actual name, but no one really paid attention to that.

“Thanks.” Percival nodded at him happily, letting the device hang on his neck. “And while I’m still here…”

From the glint in his eyes Arthur could already guess what the man wanted.

“Yes, we have your favourite jam doughnuts. We left some especially for you.”

Percival beamed at him, looking like a giddy teenager that was just asked to the prom by their crush.

Arthur moved towards an empty window in the wall, from which he could see the main part of the pastry shop, and leaned through it.

“Hey, Gwen, can you give me the doughnuts we packed? Percy is here.”

Gwen swished her head towards him, standing at the cash register where she was attending to a young man.

“In a second.”

As Arthur turned around, Percival had helped himself to a batch of fresh gingerbread cookies, which were cooling down on the counter, and now was huffing loudly as he definitely burned his mouth.

“Watch out, they’re still hot.”

Percival swallowed, letting the fresh tears appear in the corners of his eyes.

“Still worth it.”

Arthur decided to take that as a compliment, especially as these were the cookies he had made.

Percival grabbed another two cookies and started to throw them between his palms, trying to cool them down quicker.

“So how are you hanging?” He asked.

Arthur shrugged and returned to cleaning the dishes. The answer to this question was too elaborated, but Percival probably knew, even understood that.

“I’ve been better.” Arthur answered honestly and moved to another set of glasses. “Got a few more orders, so I’ve been quite busy nowadays.”

“That’s why you haven’t been answering any of Gwaine’s messages?”

Arthur halted in his movements, feeling the water splash across the glass surface and wet his shirt. There was a brief moment when he felt the whole world crashing down on him, suffocating, stealing all the oxygen from his lungs, pressure dropping and crushing every muscle and bone. There was a puncture, a sudden snapping sensation, a swirl of the cosmos expanding inside his chest.

And then, it all was gone. A blink, a second and he was okay, standing in the kitchen with hot water running down his hands.

“Maybe.” He finally murmured and resumed the washing.

It was repetitive, comforting, calming and familiar.

Percival shuffled, or maybe changed his position, leaning his hip on the counter and looking like a looming mountain in this small room.

“Well call him when you’ll have some free time. Don’t tell him I’ve told you this, but he is starting to get worried about you.”

If Gwaine was starting to get worried about him, then maybe the situation was way worse than it seemed.

Then, more quietly, Percival added:

“We all are.”

Arthur turned off the water.

“I’ll call him today.” He finally said, drying his hands with the dish cloth and turning to the man.

Percival grinned at him, not with the full smile he usually wore, but with a different one, a kind one, one that knew that not all was good, but at least something tilted towards the happiness.

“Well, better do that, if you don’t want to have Gwaine bursting into your house in the middle of the night.”

“I know, I remember the last time.”

Arthur shuddered. He also had had to change his door, because Gwaine literally had destroyed the lock. So yeah, he didn’t need the repeat of that.

Percival popped the cookies he had been holding into his mouth.

There was a movement and a box slid into the kitchen, with Gwen’s head peeking out from the window.

“Here you go.” She said and turned to the guest. “Hi Percival!”

The man waved at her softly.

“Hey to you too.”

Gwen pushed the box further.

“Sorry, one is a little bit crushed.”

“No worries, I’m sure it’ll still be tasty.” Percival said, grabbing the box and putting it under his arm.

“Well if not, you can blame Arthur. He was the one who destroyed it.” Gwen happily commented, crossing her hands on the counter.

“Hey!”

Percival snorted, what was followed by a small snicker from the girl herself.

“Well, I need to get going. Same time next week?”

Arthur nodded.

“Sure, if there will be any changes, I’ll call you.”

Percival swirled on his heel and marched toward the exit.

“Catch you all later. Say hi to Lance from me, Gwen.”

“Will do.”

And with that the man exited the kitchen, leaning his body forward to not hit his head on the doorframe.

Arthur snorted under his nose anyway when he still heard Percival hitting his forehead on the doorframe of the backdoor leading him outside.

Every time.

***

The sky was painted in dark hues and strokes, as they marched through the city with the hands clasped together and the faces hidden in the collars.

It was close to winter, with the temperature dropping down and the world turning dark earlier than usual. But it was good for them. It was easier to disappear in the darkness than in the broad daylight of the city.

Although the crispy air wasn’t helping their movements. Neither the energy inside him was pleased with the coldness.

Galahad obediently followed him, looking skittishly around, holding tightly onto his palm. He looked exhausted, after being thrown around by the stress and constant moving, running, escaping.

With a small nudge and a plead, the energy enveloped the small boy’s body, warming him a bit, curling around him like a blanket made of cosmic dust.

Merlin felt like they were walking for hours and still there was a trace behind them, a sudden silhouette appearing in the distance, looming across the horizon. He could feel the stress playing a cacophonic melody inside his lungs, squeezing them painfully.

They had to disappear. Somehow.

But how?

There was another short shove from his energy, pointing in a vague direction behind them.

Merlin didn’t have to look back to know that someone was on their tail.

There was something he could do, but it was a risky move. Yet he was running out of options and ideas.

(He had to get Galahad to safety. Take him out of the equation – the one that didn’t look like it could end well. He had to protect him.)

His breath stuttered inside his chest, as he felt his choices slip through his fingers, scatter across the pavement like tiny crystals, smash to pieces due to the passing time.

Galahad tripped and Merlin moved down to help stabilize the boy.

He had to do something. Before it would be too late.

There was a small push, a poke to his mind, a shift of his face, tilting it, sprinkling the golden dust across the air, showing a barely visible line. It was pointing towards a good hiding place, a safe place, a hideout.

Merlin trusted his gut feeling. And he trusted the energy inside of him, it had never failed him.

He tugged Galahad and disappeared in the alleyway near some loud cafe or bakery. He didn’t get a good look at it.

There were a lot of garbage cans and waste containers standing around, together with a delivery truck, although one of the smaller models. It didn’t look like the nicest of places, and his heart broke inside at the idea of what he was about to do. He didn’t want to, but he had no other options.

(At least this place looked moderately clean and it didn’t smell. Small mercies.)

Merlin tugged Galahad and pushed him behind the delivery truck, glancing back towards the street and pleading the power to conceal them for a moment.

“Dad, what are you-“

“Stay here. Hide. Don’t come out till I come back.” Merlin quickly whispered, glancing back and forth, feeling like someone was ripping his chest apart.

Galahad’s eyes widened and he immediately surged forward.

“No, dad, wait, you can’t-“

“Stay.” Merlin repeated himself, this time more sternly, hoping to hint on that parenting tone that always made Galahad obey. “I’ll be fine, but I need to be sure you’ll be safe first.”

It wasn’t the best hiding place, but he trusted his power.

Galahad didn’t look convinced and stared at him with the pleading eyes and trembling bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay.” Merlin softly whispered, brushing away the fringe with one hand and leaning closer to plant a kiss on the boy’s forehead. ”Don’t come out. Don’t move from here. I will be back for you, I promise.”

His son still looked like he wanted to object, but Merlin was already moving away, losing the tight grip on the small fingers, immediately feeling the heat leaving his body.

Another silent plead and a part of the energy inside parted with him and curled around the boy, forming an invisible shield, hiding him from prying eyes, ones that wanted to harm.

Galahad looked up at him and opened his mouth, but Merlin lifted his hand and put one finger on his own lips.

He quickly peeked out of the alleyway, glanced at the name of the café or whatever shop was there, catalogued the name in his memory, together with the street name, and then waved his hand, conjuring an image next to him, one resembling the boy. For everyone it seemed like a real life person, but only he knew that it was only that, a mirage, a coldness that didn’t reach his heart.

He stepped out, turned and walked forward.

He had a plan.

***

Arthur’s days weren’t the most interesting things in the universe. On the contrary, they were quite boring. Beside work he didn’t do much in his daily life and even then, work took most of it.

That was the pain and fun of being the boss.

After finishing his shift, he had come back to his house, had sat down on the couch, had opened a laptop and simultaneously turned on a TV to have some background noises.

And in this position he had spent the next two hours.

Maybe there was some truth to Percival’s words.

He stood up from the couch, putting the laptop on the table first, and then stretched his hands above his shoulders, feeling the bones pop into places. Wow, okay, he definitely felt like an old man and he wasn’t even that old.

He still had dinner – spaghetti – from yesterday, so he decided to throw it into a microwave, instead of doing something new. Tomorrow he could do something else, maybe chicken, there was one in a freezer which needed to be eaten, because it would get bad soon.

The bowl burned his fingers, so he had to put it down for a moment. Then after a few seconds he decided to try it once again and then almost ran to the living room, feeling the heat seep into his skin.

Arthur sat down and let the bowl cool down a bit.

He munched on the dinner slowly, putting the laptop back with him on the sofa and surfing through the pages, scrolling from time to time down to read more.

It was perhaps a boring life, the one he had, but he liked it.

Well, almost liked. There had been bumps, ups and downs, sudden turnabouts, turns left and right, hesitations, but he really enjoyed what he was doing.

Although maybe Gwaine was right, maybe there was a spark of truth to what he was saying. He had been a little bit off nowadays, hiding in his home instead of going out with his friends or generally with someone.

(Not that there was someone.)

The fact was that he knew he was acting like that. And he simply couldn’t stop himself.

Another short swipe of the finger, another line of text and a photo appeared and still nadda, zero, null, zilch.

Apparently, the world was ending, if he admitted that Gwaine may be right about something.

(Although maybe the world ending wouldn’t be such a bad thing. At least it could be called an emergency. And the emergency that required magical assistance and help. And then, maybe, perhaps, he could see–)

Arthur sighed and closed the laptop.

He simply couldn’t understand it all. Arthur thought that after regaining his own memories and finding out from the Lady of the Lake that he had waited almost one thousand and five hundred years for Arthur, he would immediately appear at his doorsteps, maybe throw himself at Arthur, embracing in the long-awaited hug and then everything would be right.

Arthur had got his memories back. Everyone important to him had got them back.

And Merlin wasn’t here.

Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

He could understand a few days, months, depending on where Merlin had been, but not years. Years filled with waiting, looking, searching, asking, conversing and still with the same results.

Maybe he was angry with Arthur? Rightfully so. Arthur deserved it, after so much that Merlin had had to live through because of him, due to him. He deserved the cold shoulder for some time. But not such a long time.

It was simply not Merlin to do it.

No, something had gone terribly wrong and Arthur was going to get to the bottom of it.

Having any clues would help, but he guessed he had to do it the hard way.

(The Lady of the Lake had told him as much as she had known herself. Arthur could see it in her eyes – how much she had wanted to help, but couldn’t.)

So this was what he was doing in his free time – searching for any clues. But to be fair, perhaps he needed some time off to clear his mind, reconnect with his friends who were as worried as he, people who understood him.

Yeah, maybe this would help, would put a fresh thought inside his head, would help him relax a bit.

Before Arthur could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and clicked the familiar name.

“Hey. Gwaine–“

***

Galahad was going to be fine, Merlin had to believe it.

He had ordered the power to help him, to protect and hide from anything that may want to harm the boy. And he trusted it, he knew it wouldn’t disobey or abandon him. As long as there was a protective coat around his son’s body, he was going to be fine.

Although the image he had put on Galahad already had faded. Keeping it up at such long distances was a feat and a difficult task, one on which he couldn’t focus right now.

(Normally he could do it, especially as Galahad’s own power helped him, but not right now.)

The part of the energy he had left behind would be sufficient to conceal the boy.

So now Merlin had to focus on disappearing on his own.

Easier said than done. Especially after what felt like the hundredth time.

Merlin felt his power nudge him, point in a correct direction, following a golden trail that shimmered and glimmered from time to time. He had tried every trick he had done until now, but they had outsmarted his every move.

They were learning.

But that was okay, he still had a few tricks under his sleeve. He would shake them off, at some point. Eventually.

Merlin turned and disappeared as he met the wall.

***

Arthur might have almost fallen asleep on the couch, if the phone didn’t suddenly buzz loudly.

Brushing away the dusty particles of sleep from his eyelashes with his hand, he grabbed the phone, that almost threatened to fall from the table, to swipe on the green icon and put it near his ear.

“Hello?” He slurred.

Yep, he was getting old.

“Mister Pendragon?” Asked a timid voice on the other side.

He knew that voice.

“Oh, hey Beatrice. Is everything alright?”

Was the pastry shop alright? Had something happened? Were they under attack? Was someone stealing something? Had there been a break in? Was someone threatening her with a knife?

(Arthur hadn’t held a sword in a lifetime, but he guessed he could still nick someone.)

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s okay, nothing wrong with the shop, but…” The woman on the other side said, prolonging the words hesitantly, nervously.

Arthur knew that tone.

“What is it, Beatrice?” He asked, sighing along the way and moving his one hand to brush away the fringe.

“It’s just…” The girl started and Arthur could almost see her in his mind bending her fingers in weird directions. “My last bus is in ten minutes.”

Was it so late already?

A quick glance at the clock told him that indeed it was already time to close the shop.

He groaned as he stood up, feeling the joints pop after waking up from an uncomfortable position he had had during the quick nap. Yep, he was getting old. Any day he would start going gray.

(Or he already had a few gray hairs, as Leon nicely had pointed out once and, of course, never again.)

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute. What more needs to be done?”

“Just taking out the trash and locking all the doors. I’m sorry Mister Pendragon, I know I promised to not push it onto you–“

“No, it’s okay. I prefer for you to get home safely. I can take out the trash myself and lock the place. I live here anyway.”

“Thank you, Mister Pendragon, and I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, yeah, skitter off, before you’ll be late.”

Beatrice didn’t need to be told twice as she thanked him profusely and then hung up.

Arthur yawned as he put on better shoes on his feet and descended the stairs, hearing the door being shut as the girl probably already had ran out.

Well, it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last one either. And he had spoken the truth, he preferred for his workers to get home safely. It wasn’t that they didn’t work well – they did, he could see the determination in their eyes and the hasty movements as they tried to please all the customers during the rush hours.

Besides, it was now Arthur’s shop, he wanted to take good care of it.

The light in the kitchen was still on, so Arthur directed his steps there.

Everything was cleaned – the surfaces were spotless, the dishes were dripping on the dryer, the coffee machines were unstained and turned off, but the trash definitely wasn’t taken out. But other than that, it all looked perfect.

Arthur took out the trash bag from the trash bin for plastic products and tied it. He did the same with paper wastes. Also the mixed ones. And he was surprised that the trash bin for metal wastes had to also be emptied.

He could do one trip, but then, he was still drowsy and old. So yeah, multiple trips it was.

He grabbed two bags and dragged them towards the back exit, lifting them above any obstacle to not accidentally rip them and scatter everything around.

He opened the door with his elbow and then pushed it forward with his hip, feeling the cold air of the evening hit him right in the face.

There was this crispy cold sensation of the autumn moving through the air, caressing the last leaves hanging on the branches, sneaking between the bricks, knocking on the windows and howling in the pipes.

Arthur exhaled softly, feeling the coldness on his skin waking him up a bit.

It wasn’t a busy street and it definitely wasn’t busy at this time so he enjoyed the silence as he walked towards the main bigger waste containers standing near the main road, ready to be taken away tomorrow by the garbage collectors.

A few hefty shoves and he put the bags inside.

Just how heavy plastic and paper can be? Apparently very much so. And his muscles did agree with this.

He exhaled slowly, brushing away the sweat from his forehead with his hand, when he heard a rustle coming from behind him. Or well from behind the delivery truck they kept there.

Had raccoons got into the trash again? It was a possibility. There were a ton of them living in the park nearby and they wandered here from time to time.

Well, Arthur still had other things to deal with before he could deal with the raccoons. Like taking out the remaining trash bags.

He returned to the kitchen and grabbed the rest, dragging it back outside, this time listening to the sounds surrounding him.

There was something, a quiet sound, a little sensation, just something in the air that was itching him the weird way. Not exactly the bad way, just off. Strange. Unnatural, yet familiar in its weird comforting touch.

No, that wasn’t possible, but… No.

Arthur stopped and glanced around when he heard another sound, this time a quieter one, but a little bit broken in the middle, one that cut through his chest and heart, slashing like a sword.

It was nothing, just his imagination.

He stepped closer to the waste containers, opened them and hoisted the bags to put them inside, repeating his movements from several minutes ago. Methodically. Rhythmically. He didn’t do it that often now, as he mostly worked morning shifts, but back when it had been just him and his mom, Arthur had done it quite often.

He glanced at the empty street and sighed, feeling the pull on his muscles.

It was a calm evening, night even, with the street lamps blinking above the heads, showing the way for the last pedestrians that were still walking around. But now the street was empty, allowing for the soft breeze to run around the buildings.

Arthur probably should head back, make himself some late supper and go to sleep. Yeah, that sounded like a splendid option right now. One he should follow.

He turned on his heel to stomp back towards the door when he heard the sound once again, a quiet rustle, a shift, a gasp or something resembling a sob perhaps and a whisper, clothes being moved, hands being tightened.

Arthur stopped moving and glanced around, only to direct his gaze at the delivery truck.

If he was really having raccoons again, then he was going to go insane. Getting rid of them last time had been a pain in the ass. Mostly because Gwen had got attached.

“Is anyone there?” He asked.

Kinda stupid of him, as raccoons couldn’t speak, but maybe, just maybe, there were no raccoons.

No one answered him, but at this point Arthur wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

Talking raccoons would be really terrifying.

Trying not to think further about it, he turned and reached with his hand towards the door handle when there was a brief sensation circling around his wrist, one that made his breath hitch and heart lurch, speeding up for a second, only to crash down.

It was a delicate touch, a soft stroke, a cuddly brush on his skin. Painfully familiar, yet with an echo of another world, another life, another past. It felt like fire dancing across his skin, making the hairs stand up, frizzling the nerves to life and making them sway and twitch. It was a warm and welcome, a bit skittish, but comforting and not threating feeling.

Arthur knew this feeling. He didn’t feel it in a pretty long time.

With his breath being lost somewhere inside his chest, he turned in the direction where the sudden sensation was pointing him at, lightly guiding forward.

Arthur couldn’t think for a moment, His mind was filled with images, sensations, moments, ideas and possibilities so bright and dark that he wasn’t sure whether to cry from joy or fear. Maybe a bit of both.

Because it was magic. It had to be. It felt familiar, like an old friend, hugging his wrist, protecting it and yet pulling forward, like it wanted to show him something.

And if Arthur’s past life had taught him anything, it was that he should trust it once in a while.

Slowly, quietly he creeped forward, keeping his steps light and steady, moving towards the nook between the delivery truck and the old trash bins he sometimes put in front of the shop when there was summer and he had additional tables outside.

It had been ages, if not more, since he had hunted last time, but a part of him still remembered it all. Years of training and practice couldn’t be washed away like sand after a tide wave. The memories were there, integrated in his mind somewhere, acting up when he needed them, even when his body wasn’t fully prepared for it.

(He got an additional pound or two here and there.)

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Some small part of Arthur expected to see his long lost friend, curled there and looking at him with fear and then recognition, but the other part knew it wasn’t plausible. No. Yet even when he glanced at the place, his heart still dropped.

There sat a boy, curled in on himself and looking like the whole world was breaking apart.

Arthur inhaled sharply and the sound sold him out, hissing as it moved through his teeth.

The boy snapped his head up and glanced at him, but probably saw only a dark silhouette due to the light shining behind Arthur, painting the front of him in inky hues.

There was a spasm of time, a small second filled with nothing and then everything burst to action.

The boy gasped and darted forward, crashing into Arthur’s legs and sending him back, not exactly falling on his butt, but certainly being close to it. A smart move, especially considering the small form of the unknown person, but he also hadn’t taken into account that Arthur had been a knight and even though he hadn’t held a sword in a long time, he still knew how to act and react.

So he made a swirl, pushing his hands back to stabilize himself. The maneuver cost him two seconds, seconds filled with the boy running away and the magic at his wrist almost screaming at him to move forward. What he did, hoping that his muscles didn’t forget about the hunt, about the sword-fighting, about the sudden need to run, and leaped forward, getting closer to the boy.

Arthur reached with his hand and grabbed the thin wrist, clasping his fingers around to hold, but not to hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, I’m not trying to hurt you.” He started speaking, hoping to hint on a kind voice, but it was hard when he was probably a looming dangerous figure in the alleyway and the boy was scared.

Which proved to be right as the boy started to struggle and tried to rip his hand away.

“Hey, wait, you’re going to hurt yourself, calm down for a second, I only want to help.”

Arthur wondered if every attacker also said similar things at the beginning, but somehow that thought terrified him, so he pushed it away from his mind.

But he had to do something, before the boy would accidentally twist his wrist or something worse.

So he moved his other hand and grasped the other free hand.

Then there was a spark, the magic that had resided on his skin shifted, moved away, left Arthur’s body.

And the boy stopped struggling and suddenly snapped his head up, looking at him with wide eyes.

And only now Arthur could really see every detail, every small scar, every soft freckle, every dark lock of the curly hair, every thin wrinkle, but also the enormous ears and the big, green eyes, which looked back at him with recognition.

Arthur’s heart might actually crash down.

“The Golden King…” The boy whispered.

***

Something was wrong. Not bad wrong, but wrong nevertheless.

His energy, that part he had left with Galahad came back. But it didn’t come back screaming and shouting that the boy was in danger. No, it was content, happy, joyful, like it had done its task and now could rest, after a job well done.

Strange. Peculiar even. He couldn’t remember it ever doing that.

(But he trusted it and if it whispered that Galahad was safe, then he was safe.)

Merlin, on the contrary, wasn’t. He couldn’t rest yet.

He couldn’t shake the people off. They were likes wolves, feeling his heart pump the blood through his system. Persistent. Predatory. Moving swiftly through the shadows, reaching forward, almost grabbing his jacket, his elbow, his leg.

Merlin could play their game. He had to.

***

Well, everything about this situation screamed awkward at the top of its lungs.

Some part of Arthur still couldn’t understand how he had got himself into this situation. But somehow here he was, back in the kitchen of his pastry shop with the kid he had found outside sitting on a chair, nearby the open door.

Getting the boy inside had been a feat on its own. Arthur had had to be the one to step inside first, widely opening all doors and not getting closer than two meters to him. Only when Arthur had promised the kid that, he had nodded and finally had followed Arthur inside.

And here he was, sitting nearby the open door, backpack laying on his lap and phone clutched tightly in his hands.

Smart, he could run away any second if he wanted, while Arthur was sentenced to the other part of the kitchen.

Arthur leaned on the wall and stared at the small boy, who was looking at the ground, but hesitantly stealing a few glances in his direction from time to time.

This… definitely didn’t look good. Especially if police would suddenly burst through the door. Why would they do that? Arthur didn’t know, but it definitely looked like a good way to put him behind the bars.

He needed to calm down. There would be no police coming, at least not without him calling them first. He had to figure this one out. He could do that. Yeah, easy.

First, he had to find out who the kid was.

(And why was he so familiar?)

“Do you want something to drink?” Arthur suddenly asked, clearing his throat first and feeling that his voice didn’t sound like him.

The boy jumped, startled, and looked up at him with wide eyes, one leg moving towards the door.

Well, this was a good start.

Arthur stared at the boy and he stared back, but didn’t speak, didn’t even open his mouth to breathe.

Okay. So this was how it was going to be.

Arthur clasped his hands together, staring at the boy and clearly not knowing what to do. Move? Not move? Make the drink? Not make the drink? Breathe? Not breathe? He wasn’t that good with kids either. They never really clung to him. He could hold them and keep them occupied for a few minutes but that was all.

How old could the boy be? Nine? Ten? Eleven?

Feeling like the world’s fate was on his shoulders once again, Arthur moved to the cupboards above the coffee machines.

“How does hot choco sound?”

The boy, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer, but observed his every move, similar to a prey waiting to bolt, if the predator moved too close.

Okay, that was… super wrong.

(Arthur wasn’t a predator. At least not now. Especially not towards kids. Never towards kids.)

He sighed and decided to make the hot chocolate anyway. The kid looked like he needed it and frankly Arthur could drink some too. It felt like eons had passed since he had had a cup of it.

He took out a bag of hot chocolate mix from the cupboard and then took out two cups.

The boy observed him sternly, gauging every movement.

“See? I’m making a cup for myself too, so you know it’s not poisoned.” Arthur softly said, turning to look at the boy and hinting on a joking tone, accompanied by his smile.

The boy swallowed hard.

Well, it didn’t seem that his joke was well taken then. Okay, okay, he could deal with it. Somehow.

(Should he message Gwen to say that no matter what happens, he was not a pedophile? May be worth it, just in case.)

He dosed the hot choco with a bit of warm milk and then slid the cup on the surface closer to the boy so he could reach it, in the same time keeping his distance so Arthur would not be stepping into his personal bubble.

Arthur brought his own cup and sat on the other side of the kitchen.

That was quite a mess he got himself into.

There were two minutes filled with silence, not counting the clock ticking softly above their heads, showing the passing time. Then a car drove outside, tires screeching as it turned. A dog barked. A group of teenagers started to laugh loudly.

A calm evening. Or almost calm.

He took a sip, finding miniscule comfort in the sweet taste.

The boy glanced at him, slowly reached towards the cup and then grabbed it, sniffing it twice before taking a hesitant sip. Then he waited a minute or so, checking the time with the clock and then…

Almost downed the whole cup in one go.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the sudden urgency to the boy’s movements, the soft, delicate but happy sounds of slurps and joyful hums that left the lips as he licked them clean after the cup was finished.

“Uh, you want another one?”

The boy snapped his head up, opened the mouth, closed and then sheepishly nodded.

This was at least something.

A few minutes later another cup was pushed towards the boy, when an idea popped into Arthur’s mind.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a second.”

And with that Arthur pushed the door to the parlor with his hip and stepped inside.

Guided by the soft light coming from the kitchen from the square hole in the wall, he maneuvered around the room, approaching the shelves with the pastries and grabbing two choco croissants and two blueberry muffins. He put them on a plate he snatched from a cupboard and then moved back to the kitchen.

“You look really hungry. Hope this will help.”

And with that he slid the plate closer to the boy.

The kid stared at it, still holding his cup and licking his lips form time to time. There were signs of urgency and hesitation in the twitches of his hands and skitterish glances of the eyes, but other than that the boy didn’t move.

Arthur inhaled deeply.

“It’s not poisoned.”

The boy still didn’t move, but furrowed his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose. Clearly not believing him.

Arthur took a spoon he had used to pour the chocolate mix and took a piece of muffin with it, swallowing it in one bite. He did the same with the croissant, although it was a bit more problematic and left a trail of crumbs on the surface.

“See, not poisoned.” Arthur said after he swallowed the piece of croissant.

The boy observed him as he stepped back and when Arthur was far away, he snatched the plate and started to devour the food.

So yeah, Arthur felt like he had done a good thing.

In just a few minutes, the food was gone, except for the half of the croissant still being consumed by the kid.

“Do you want more food?” Arthur asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.

The boy glanced up and then slowly shook his head.

This was the second answer the kid had given him in the almost full hour he had spent here. It definitely was an improvement to the silent treatment.

(Which surprised him as at the beginning, when the kid had spoken, he had sounded almost pleased and eager, happy in some weird, crooked way.)

“Did you have dinner today?”

The boy stared at him, nibbled on the croissant and shook his head one more time.

Okay, so now the kid was on speaking terms. Or well, moving the head terms. So it was almost like speaking. They could have a full conversation.

And Arthur needed some answers right now.

“Okay, listen kid. You know I’m not a danger to you.” Arthur started, trying to speak in a soft and kind voice. “But it’s super late and I think I deserve some answers. Would you be inclined to give me some of them? Not all of them, if you don’t want to. Just whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

The boy looked at him and then, slowly, deliberately nodded.

Okay, it seemed that Arthur moved to the boy’s good side. Somehow.

“First of all, I don’t expect you to answer this, but I’m Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. Now you know my name, so if someone asks with whom you’ve been, you can tell them the truth.” Then like a second though he added. “Do you want to see my ID?”

A small shake of the head followed, which surprised him. He was almost one hundred percent sure that the boy would want to see one.

“Why not?”

The boy pointed at his apron, where his badge was hanging, crooked a bit, with the name and a photo glued to it. The photograph wasn’t the best, it was a few years old, but it was still him, there was no mistaking it.

Pretty clever.

“Okay, are you ready?”

A nod.

The interrogation could begin.

“Do you have any parents?”

Another nod, but a sad one. Not full. So most possibly one parent then. Or divorced.

“Do you have a home?”

A nod, although a little bit hesitant. Unsure.

“Do you want to return home?”

Another nod, but still a bit too slow. Uncertain.

Arthur didn’t like it. Not a bit. This smelled too much like an abuse. But the boy wasn’t covered in bruises. On the contrary, under the dirt of today, he was pretty clean, not neglected in any way. At least it didn’t look that way.

“Do you feel safe at home?”

The boy bit his lip, clearly not knowing how to answer. The eyes moved left and right, jumping around his knees.

Okay, okay, Arthur wasn’t sure if he should be dealing with it. Neither knew how. But he had to ask it. And if the answer would be positive, then he would have to call the police.

“Are you… abused and hurt at home?”

“No! Dad would never do anything to me!”

Arthur almost fell down as the sudden childish voice erupted from the pale lips.

The kid also looked surprised and quickly clasped his mouth shut, staring down at the ground.

Okay! This still pushed away the enormous weight from his shoulders. For a moment he had been afraid he had been met with a case of domestic violence.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not insinuating anything.” Only he had been a few minutes ago. “So you are living with your dad?”

A nod – a tense one.

“But still you don’t want to go back home?”

A nod.

“Is your dad at home?”

A shake of the head. The first one during this investigation.

“Do you know where he is?”

A shake of the head.

This definitely didn’t look good.

“Did he leave you there?”

A nod.

Arthur fumed.

“But he will be back. He promised me. And he… he always keeps his promises.” The boy one more time spoke, gripping the material of his jeans.

“He still left you there.” Arthur said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“He had no choice.” The boy whispered.

“What?”

The boy became silent again.

But this was good, he was getting the boy to talk. Which was not a lot, but was still an improvement. And Arthur was happy with that.

Arthur lifted his hand and massaged his face. He could feel the headache slowly moving to the shore of his mind.

“Okay, let’s get back on track. So your dad, he said he will be back?”

A nod.

“But you don’t know when?”

A nod.

“Do you have any way of contacting him?”

A small, slow nod.

“Can you contact him?”

A shake.

“Why not?”

Shit, Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking the question which needed the words to form an answer. He knew he would do it at some point.

The boy, surprisingly, spoke again.

“I can’t. His phone could make a sound and they could find him.”

This… didn’t sound good. It all was starting to get incredibly dark.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who would find him exactly?”

The boy looked at him and curled in on himself.

“Really bad people.” He whispered.

Arthur’s breath hitched, feeling the sudden shiver of his heart.

Yeah, this sounded really bad. Like something he shouldn’t be dealing with. No, he couldn’t deal with it. There were forces in the country that could deal with it. Not him. He had stopped dealing with it when he had left Camelot and had stopped being the king.

“Okay, no, that’s it, we need to call the police.” Arthur said, then stood up and took out the phone from his pocket to dial the number–

When a hand grabbed his sleeve, tugging on it harshly and almost making him lose the grip on his mobile.

“No, please, don’t! Don’t call the police!” The boy shrieked, tugging on the shirt, looking at him with pleading, scared eyes.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement and the fear clearly seeping from the eyes and the voice, with the waves of terror rippling through the body.

“Okay, okay, calm down, I won’t call them.” He quickly complied, looking down at the boy and trying to smile at him.

The boy didn’t look convinced.

Arthur huffed softly.

“Here, let me just put it down.”

The boy let him move the hand and put the phone on the counter, sliding it away from him. Only then the kid stepped back, curling back in on himself, but observing Arthur, although now a bit more relaxed.

It was an improvement. Not in the direction Arthur wanted, but it was something.

There was a brief, but dense pause after that.

The boy stayed on the chair, looking at him from time to time, but mostly staring at his own lap, gripping his trousers, letting the knuckles stretch the skin, painting it in pale streaks.

Arthur sat down too and put his face in his hands, feeling the weight of today evening rest on his shoulders, pushing them down towards the ground. There were shadows curling inside his head, whispering treacherous words behind the ears. The exhaustion started to play a cacophonic melody inside his head, clanging and ringing through the skull.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do. He wished Gwen was here, she would know what to do.

Was it too late to call her? Probably. What time was it? Around ten pm. So pretty late. And they both had to wake up early tomorrow.

What to do, what to do?

Arthur massaged his eyes, gripping the bridge of his nose in the end.

“Listen, kid…”

“Galahad.”

“Bless you.” Only after a second Arthur’s mind processed the words. “Wait, what?”

The boy twitched on the chair.

“My name. It’s Galahad.” The kid slowly said, glancing at him from behind the dark fringe.

Arthur tried saying this name out loud in his head. It was definitely an uncommon one. But weirdly fitting. Historic, with a hint of pride. The parents definitely had been inspired by his legends, although he couldn’t remember ever meeting any Galahad in his life.

But in overall… his legends were weird.

Arthur smiled tiredly at the boy.

“Well it’s nice to meet you then, Galahad.”

The corners of Galahad’s mouth jerked in something resembling a sheepish smile. Familiar. Like he was seeing a ghost from the past, a shadow creeping behind a corner, a comet of a long forgotten star.

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling his heart skyrocketing inside his chest. He tried to quench these thoughts, these memories, these feelings, but no matter how hard he tried, they were still there. Persistent. Nagging. Hopeful.

He hadn’t felt this hope in a pretty long time.

Arthur looked up, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the knees.

“Hey, Galahad, can I ask you something?”

The boy stared at him in reply.

“Uh… it’s going to sound weird.” Well this whole evening was. “But when you saw me in the alleyway…” And when his whole world had turned upside down. “…you called me –“

There was a sudden draft, a warm, delicate touch of the wind on the cheek, a hesitant movement, just a sudden surge of something comforting and familiar that made Arthur’s heart stop for a second.

A long painful second.

Galahad’s eyes widened and he almost dropped the phone he was holding.

“He’s here.” The boy breathed out. “He’s coming back.”

Arthur looked at him, feeling the words getting lost somewhere inside his throat, walking around the maze of his lungs.

“Your dad?” He asked, just to be sure.

Galahad nodded quickly, slipping from the chair and putting the phone back in his pocket.

“Yes, yes, he is here. I felt it, I felt him. He is okay. I need to go. I need to see…”

“Wait!”

But the boy didn’t wait. He jumped out of the open door, towards the dark corridor, letting the black curls on the top of his head bounce with his every step.

Arthur cursed under his nose – he was finally allowed to do that – and followed the kid through the dark corridor, towards the back door, where Galahad was peeking out curiously, swinging back and forth on his heels. Looking, but not stepping outside just yet.

“You sure he is coming?” He asked, leaning above the boy and staring at the empty alleyway.

There was no one here at this hour.

“Yes, he’s coming, I can feel it.”

Well, that totally wasn’t strange or weird or creepy.

What had he got himself into?

They waited.

Arthur stared, feeling his heart beating rapidly in the chest, hammering and drumming, almost cacophonically, sending sparks and sudden pains through the nerves.

(He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up. He knew it only pushed him to a heartbreak. He knew that every time he had tried, something in him had sunk, pulling him down, toward the never ending ocean of blackness from which he had emerged. He had learned to control it, to not let it seize his body while promising to give something that couldn’t last.

Hoping against hope was a terrible feeling.)

Galahad balanced on his toes, peeking further and further away, when he suddenly shivered and jumped out.

“Dad!”

He was a blur of colors as he ran forward, moving swiftly through the darkness, disappearing from the light shimmering above the door as a shadow, a dark silhouette appeared around the corner.

“Dad!”

Small hands wrapped themselves around the shadow, gripping tightly and hiding the face in the folds of a shirt, almost pushing them both to the ground by the force of the embrace.

Thin hands moved through the air only to land on Galahad’s back.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here.” Came a soft whisper.

Galahad only clung tighter.

The man then knelt down and grabbed the boy’s face, looking up at him and caressing softly the reddened cheeks.

Galahad stared back with adoration and the tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Arthur swallowed hard, stepping out, feeling the universe inside his chest disintegrating.

In the stillness of the night, his steps were loud as a dynamite, as a cannon going off on the sea, as a storm in the middle of a calm city.

The reaction was quick, unnaturally fast and immediate. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts, no time to think about the consequences. An impulse and a reaction.

Galahad was pushed behind the man’s back, hiding him from the view and putting the man in the front, closer to the danger.

“Who are you?” The man hissed.

Arthur quickly lifted his hands, making a small step back, showing that he was unarmed and not a danger.

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m not an enemy.”

No reply, but a small step back followed, moving the pair away from Arthur.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to yell, to move forward and grab the wrists to prevent the man from moving back, to ask for some kind of an explanation, for the man to step into the light and to not destroy his heart for the hundredth time.

Arthur couldn’t ignore the tugging, the pulling, the stretching sensation in his heart, the gravitational force appearing between them.

(He shouldn’t hope, but god damn it.)

“Please.” Arthur whispered, begged.

The man didn’t budge for a second, but then opted on taking another step back, before a small tug stopped him.

Galahad looked up at the man, sparkling eyes shimmering in the darkness.

“Dad, stop, he is not the enemy. He helped me.”

The man glanced down at his son, but didn’t reply.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows, yanking stronger on the jacket.

“Dad, he is the Golden King. From my dreams.”

The eyes, blue like deep oceans, snapped back at him, a little bit widened, staring curiously at Arthur like he was some kind of specimen or a faraway dream.

Then there was a step forward, then another, initiated definitely by Galahad pushing the man forward, and another, and then one more and then…

Arthur’s heart stopped, crashed down, imploded and exploded, both in the same time, leaving only comets shimmering inside his chest on their treacherous way to the destruction.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

It was Merlin.

***

The man looked at him funnily. Merlin didn’t like it.

The man stared at him like he just hung every star on the sky just for him, he stared like he had longed and his prayers were finally answered, he stared like a man stranded finally seeing a ship after sending a message in a bottle.

The man stared at him like he knew Merlin a lifetime.

And Merlin couldn’t remember the blond haired man.

(Although there was a delicate thrum, a small, soft sensation inside his ribcage, a sudden melody played on the strings of his heart inside his caged chest. There was something inside of him that shouted and pleaded, but Merlin couldn’t distinguish the begs.)

Merlin tilted his head, staring at the perplexed face of the man, and repeated himself:

“Who are you?”

The man snapped shut his mouth and then cleared his throat, the emotions not disappearing from his eyes.

“I’m Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. I found… I found your son hiding behind the delivery truck near my pastry shop.” The man softly said, but his voice trembled.

Merlin lifted his eyebrow. It sounded like a truth. It sounded like it could be a possibility. It wasn’t giving him any off and weird signals, but still…

Galahad tugged on his jacket one more time, looking at him with these goddamn irresistible puppy eyes.

“You can trust him. He’s telling the truth.”

Merlin mulled over this, nibbling on his bottom lip and glancing back at the man.

He knew that Galahad was telling the truth, but he didn’t want to do that – trust that man. Trusting someone meant being put in danger or putting someone in danger, it meant sharing secrets and opening up. Merlin didn’t need to trust anyone right now.

“Come on, let’s find some place to sleep.” Merlin softly said, looking back down at his son and urging him towards the street.

“We’re not going back home?” The boy asked.

“No, I don’t think we should do it.”

Galahad’s lips wobbled, but he hung his head, moving his hand to grab Merlin’s one, holding tightly onto the fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go there tomorrow to grab some stuff.”

He had to do it anyway. If they were lucky today, then the place wouldn’t be crawling with people with empty faces yet. But it was just a matter of time.

They had kept to their rules, so they should be fine.

Although their home wasn’t safe anymore. But it was a problem for tomorrow. Now he had to find some kind of hotel room so Galahad could sleep safely before tomorrow. Was there any homework that needed to be done? Merlin could make it. Galahad should sleep, he was just a kid and it wasn’t his fault that things had turned out the way they had done.

“Let’s get moving.” Merlin said and stepped onto the street.

Or he would have, if the voice didn’t stop him.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, feeling the prickling stress pushing all the wrong buttons inside his mind. He was exhausted, scared, irritated and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep, stop thinking about all that was trying to get him, just curl around his son and feel the soft heartbeat echo in his own bones.

“To find a place to sleep, what else does it look like?”

It probably looked like a lot of things, but Merlin was done with today.

If the whole world could just stop, he would be very much grateful. For just a few minutes.

The energy inside of him curled around his tired muscles, warming them and making walking a little bit easier. He was very grateful nevertheless for the small piece of help.

“You can just stay with me for this night.” The man, no, Arthur, he called himself Arthur, said urgently, stepping towards them.

“We’re fine. Thank you for taking care of my son, but we really have to go.”

Merlin moved forward, sparing only one glance back, toward the golden haired man, who was getting closer and closer.

“Wait!”

“Dad.”

Merlin wanted to get away, disappear under the quilt and pretend that everything in his life was fine. He just wanted to give Galahad a warm dinner, kiss him goodnight, see his eyes flutter close as sleep would encase his mind and then observe the slow and steady movements of his chest, proving to him that it all was worth it. He just wanted for Galahad to be safe.

He didn’t want much.

He just wanted to…

The world in front of him lurched, twisted, squeezed. Darks spots glimmered in the corners of his vision, forming constellations, inky stars on the faint canvas of the sky. It felt like the time stopped and pushed him forward, both in the same time. It felt like the Earth disappeared from beneath his feet for a moment, making him float in the space-time continuum.

He was there and he wasn’t. And that was a terrifying thought.

“Dad?”

It was Galahad, he was speaking to him, all soft and concerned voice.

Merlin didn’t want for his son to be worried about him. Merlin should be the one to worry about Galahad, brushing his nose when he was cold, putting on scarf in the winter, giving the last piece of cake, combing the hair softly as they boy fall asleep on the couch. Galahad should be carefree and lively and happy, not worried and sad. His voice should be hinted with joy and mirth, not panic and fear. Why did he sound so scared?

“Dad, please!”

Merlin blinked.

The world came back to him like a sudden punch to the face, not slow and steady, but in a rush that left him powerless and small, as it swallowed him whole.

The energy in him sizzled, almost angrily, perhaps scolding him for his stubborn behavior, nudging his muscles and bones, warming the skin, ruffling the hair in a familiar, comforting manner.

Galahad was in front of him, looking at him worriedly.

And he was... he was sitting, leaning on the cold wall with his head touching the bricks.

“Dad?” Galahad asked, reaching forward.

“I’m here.” Merlin murmured, trying to sound sure and strong, but finding out that this sentence came out like a crooked whisper.

Galahad exhaled and then looked to his left.

“What’s, what’s wrong with him?” He asked, letting the tremble accompany his voice.

There was someone next to them, touching his limbs gently, prying, checking, scanning, searching for something.

“There is nothing broken, so exhaustion, probably. Nothing a good night sleep can’t fix.” The voice said.

No, not the voice, Arthur said. He was still here. Why was he still here? Why was he so persistent? Couldn’t he leave them alone?

“I’m okay.”

“I wouldn’t call it okay.” Arthur added.

Merlin turned to him.

“What do you want? Why are you still here?” He asked.

He wanted to snap, feeling the anger inside his veins, but he was too tired.

The man, no, Arthur, blinked at that.

“I just want to help.” He said softly.

Merlin wanted to say that he didn’t need Arthur’s help, that he could do it all on his own, he had been doing it all on his own, he didn’t need anyone else, but Galahad. Yet he found out that his vocal chords didn’t exactly want to cooperate with him right now.

“Dad, please. Let him help.”

Galahad’s hand was warm against his skin, earnest and trustworthy, pleading, asking, but also knowing the outcome.

Part of Merlin wanted to fight, wanted to stomp his foot down and get away. They didn’t need anyone. They were fine on their own, just the two of them against the world.

But it was Galahad who was asking and he looked like he knew what he was saying. His dreams had probably a lot to do with it.

The energy in him thrummed at the name Galahad had spoken, the one that now was glued to his mind, shimmering and almost laughing in joy, like it knew it, like it remembered it, but it was impossible. Merlin didn’t recognize the face next to him, the curious, stormy, blue eyes, shimmering like a lighthouse and a halo made of gold around the face.

But Merlin trusted this power, it never deceived him, it never let him down. Neither had Galahad.

Merlin inhaled deeply.

“Okay. Just one night.”

Arthur grinned at him and then clasped his hand, helping him get back to his feet.

Merlin ignored the shivers running down his spine.

***

Arthur had to calm down, he had to. If he kept breathing like someone was chasing him, then he would faint soon, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t do it. Not right now.

Because this was really happening. It was the reality.

Merlin, or well, someone who looked and sounded and acted like him, was here. But it was the real Merlin. Arthur could feel it. It couldn’t be a mistake. It couldn’t be an accident. He was really here, alive and well.

Or… almost well.

There was still a tired limp to Merlin’s movements after the whole scene, when Arthur’s heart had stopped for a moment, when he had been so terrified that he had lost him the second time.

But Merlin was alive and was following Arthur to his home, holding Galahad close, like he wanted to hide him from the world, protect from the danger and angry shadows that lurked in the corners.

Arthur stepped into the corridor and flicked the light on, seeing his hand tremble as he did so.

Merlin and Galahad stopped outside, with the man staring at him with distrust, but obediently stepped in after Arthur moved from the doorway.

“My home is upstairs.” He said, trying to smile encouragingly.

Merlin stared impassively.

Galahad’s lips twitched in something resembling a guilty smile.

Well, Arthur was out of his comfort zone.

“Can I… lock the door? I don’t exactly want to spend the night with the door open.”

Merlin stared at the door he had just passed and then moved away, making place for Arthur to step closer and then lock it.

The sound of the lock sliding into place echoed in the empty corridor.

“Okay, let me just turn off the light in the kitchen and then we can go upstairs.”

No answer.

Arthur went to the kitchen, put the two cups and the plate in the sink, deciding on cleaning it in the morning, then turned off the light and stepped back into the corridor.

Merlin and Galahad didn’t move.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Arthur was the first one to climb the staircase, grabbing the handle to the door to his flat and pushing it down. He quickly stepped inside, opening the door fully so his guests could enter freely too.

Merlin and Galahad stepped inside with the man wrinkling his nose at the smells probably finally hitting his nose.

That probably would be the spaghetti from yesterday.

“You can make yourself at home, no worries.” Arthur quickly said, stepping behind the pair and closing the door, also immediately reaching towards the lock, but deciding against it.

Merlin had seized up after one lock had clicked into place. Arthur wasn’t sure what he would do after seeing another door bolted. They were probably safe with only one locked door. The neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, but no one could ever know for sure what could happen.

There had been a break–in four months ago at a shop nearby.

Arthur took off his shoes, noticing that Merlin and Galahad did the same after a second.

The boy leaned on Merlin and definitely had some troubles with getting the sneakers off. Finally they landed in weird positions on the floor, crooked and tilted, but the boy quickly corrected them, so they could stand in an almost perfect line. Then Galahad turned and smiled at Merlin.

This was the first honest smile Arthur saw on the boy’s face.

The jackets then were the next ones to be taken off.

Arthur hadn’t brought any, as he only had expected to roam around the shop.

Galahad gripped the bottom of the blouse he was wearing and, after putting the backpack on the ground, he took it off in one swift movement, making his shirt ride up a little.

Merlin quickly corrected the shirt and then grabbed the blouse to add it to the hook where he had put his denim jacket.

And now that they were all inside, ready to step further into the house, Arthur wasn’t sure what to do.

When he had thought about finding Merlin before, he had imagined it a little bit different. In his mind there had been more happiness crashing down like falling stars, more hugs that later on would be denied, but then also would be safely locked inside his memories, more excited tears that would streak down Merlin’s face, more familiar tugs of mouths, forming full grins like crescent moons, more stories that would be shared between them in the comfortable companionship, accompanied by the feelings hidden inside the cups of alcohol.

This was not what he had imagined and had hoped would happen. But it was the reality. Merlin was here and this was what mattered.

Although Arthur wouldn’t mind some kind of a plan, list of rules and laws he should obey in this situation.

He clasped his hands together nervously.

“Here, let me show you around.”

The trip wasn’t long, especially as his flat wasn’t that big. There was the living room, connected with the kitchen with only a long table dividing these both rooms. Arthur’s laptop was still on the couch, turned on, and the TV was still going on, currently showing some ads. There was also a small balcony above the pastry shop, hidden behind a glass door.

(Gwaine loved to step out there for a smoke and call random people on the street.)

In the corridor, connected with the living room, there were two bedrooms – one belonging to Arthur, messy and untidy since the morning. He only let his guests spare it a quick glance, embarrassed by what was inside.

The guest room was tidier, although there was a thin layer of dust collecting on the surfaces. Arthur didn’t clean in here in a few weeks. Not many people used it nowadays, only his friends whenever they came over and were too lazy or too drunk to get back home.

(Last one was probably Elyan who had been using the bed. Arthur should probably change the bedding.)

Then there was also a small bathroom, with a toilet, a sink, and a tiny bathtub that could barely fit him.

And voilà, that was the end of his flat.

Arthur ended his tour back in the living room.

“And that is all.” He said, not really sure what he should be saying. “You will be staying in the guest room, if you can share the bed. If not, I can sleep on the couch so one of you can–“

“One bed is fine.” Merlin said.

It was his first sentence spoken out loud inside the building.

Most of the tour Merlin had spent looking around, checking small corners and looking out of the windows. Almost like he had been checking for something, some kind of a trap or a monster, ready to jump out and swallow them whole.

“Great. I will change the bedding for you.”

“No, you don’t have–“

“No, no, it’s okay. You can use the kitchen in the meantime, make something to drink or eat for yourselves.”

And with that Arthur ran to hide himself in the guest room. He couldn’t stay there for too long, as he felt his heart and mind breaking into hundred pieces.

He left the door pried open, in case the guests would need anything. He doubted they would, they didn’t seem like they needed much, but there was always a possibility.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether he would want them to call him or not.

In the emptiness of the room he could finally breathe freely, letting go of the stress and nerves that had held him captive since the moment he had seen Galahad behind the car. He wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand he wanted to do everything he could to not let Merlin go and on the other he wanted to be as nice as possible to show that he wasn’t the enemy, that they shouldn’t fear him. It was like a terrible juggling game, but there were no apples, only knives, swirling in the air, getting too close to the skin with their blades from time to time.

Arthur had no plan. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make a wrong turn, a wrong step somewhere and make Merlin jump out of the door in the speed of light, disappearing in the golden dust.

It was like playing with fire and Arthur quickly had found out how easy it was to get burn.

At least it didn’t seem like he was the enemy in Galahad’s eyes. That was something.

After a few minutes, when he had got rid of the old bedding, he started to hear sounds coming from the kitchen, similar to opening and closing cupboards, moving drawers and scraping of chairs on the floor. Then quiet talks followed.

Arthur put on fresh bedding, spreading the quilt on the bed. It was big enough to be comfortable for two people, especially if one was a kid. Then followed the pillows and voilà, the bed was made.

Kinda too fast for Arthur to find his inner peace, but something told him that he wouldn’t get it today.

But that was fine. It was fine. It was going to be fine.

Arthur inhaled deeply, staring at the empty bedroom that soon would be filled with two souls, and then exited the room.

Merlin was snooping through the cupboards, staring curiously at what was inside of them.

Galahad was sitting on one chair and scrolling through his phone. His shoulders were slumped and he looked way too relaxed to be sitting in an unknown place after a day like today. But weirdly he didn’t look like he cared. Maybe the fact that Merlin was here was giving him support, making him feel braver.

When Arthur stepped inside the living room, Merlin closed quickly and loudly the cupboard.

“There are only spices in this one. If you want something you better search through the ones on your right. And the fridge.” Arthur said, hoping to hint on a joking tone.

Merlin, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer him. Just stared back.

But perhaps, in the end, no answer was needed, because Merlin’s stomach growled rather abruptly and loudly in the stillness of the room, accompanied only by the sounds coming from the TV.

Enough was enough.

“Okay, I think that answers any more of my future questions. I’m making some sandwiches. For all of us.” Arthur said and moved to the cupboards hanging in the middle, taking out a sandwich toaster from it. Then he blinked, holding the device in the air. “Okay I lied. I need some answers. Any allergies? Something you don’t like?”

Galahad lifted his head and shook it.

“No, we’re fine with everything.” Merlin finally slowly said.

It felt like Merlin was weighing his words, thinking whether he was using the proper ones, trying to block all the ones that could sell some information. He was guarded, protective, clearly trying to gauge Arthur, check how much he could say.

Although the curious gaze was a little unnerving, so Arthur said:

“You can make some tea, if you want to be useful.”

Merlin nodded at that and started to move around the kitchen. He clearly had seen enough, because he found the cups only after the second try, but he immediately knew where tea was.

They worked in silence, even though Arthur deeply wanted to fill it with questions and answers. Why was Merlin not reacting to him? Why was he acting so cautious? From whom he was running away? How Galahad had appeared in the world? Did he not remember anything? What was Avalon’s greatest need?

He had so many questions and no answers.

The first batch of sandwiches with cheese, tomatoes and pickles was finished and pushed towards Galahad, together with a cup of warm tea. The second one Arthur gave to Merlin, who thanked him quietly and the third one was for him.

They sat together at the table, with their cups of tea, and munched on their food in silence.

Arthur rolled over a thousand ideas inside his head. Should he call Gwen now? It was pretty late and she was probably already asleep with Lancelot next to her. He knew he had to tell her, he didn’t plan on hiding who was sitting next to him, but what could he even say if he decided to call today? Plus what if Merlin would hear him and decide that he wouldn’t want to spend the night here? No, that was too dangerous. He could wait till tomorrow. He had to. Gwen would probably demand to see Merlin immediately. Hell, she would even drag Lancelot and Elyan with her, who would bring Percival, so also Gwaine and Leon would tag along.

And that… that could be a disaster.

No, he had to wait until tomorrow. They had waited for so long, surely they can wait a day more.

“Do you have any homework?”

Arthur blinked a few times, finally noticing the soft voice next to him.

Galahad lifted his head and shook it.

“No, I finished everything a few days ago. There is an essay I need to finish for the day after tomorrow though.”

“I’ll grab your laptop tomorrow then.”

Galahad opened his mouth, glanced at Arthur and then closed it.

Soon they were all finished.

Arthur looked at them.

“Do you want to take a shower?” He asked.

Galahad nodded at that.

“Shower would be nice.” He even added.

Arthur couldn’t blame him. He had spent some hours sitting behind the delivery truck and trash bins. Even though they were empty, they weren’t that nice smelling.

“I could try to find some clothes for you and I can throw your current ones into the washing machine. They should be dry for tomorrow.”

And if not, it wasn’t anything that hair dryer couldn’t deal with.

Arthur stood up when Galahad’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he nodded.

“Okay, let me grab some clothes for you then.”

He decided Merlin wanted a set of clothes too. The ones he wore now were drenched in sweat.

Finding clothes for Merlin wasn’t difficult. They were the same height and okay, maybe Merlin was a little bit on the lanky and thin side, and Arthur had gained a few pounds, so the clothes would hang on Merlin, but it was something. Galahad was the more problematic one. Arthur managed to dig out the smallest of his clothes, but he was afraid the boy would still swim in these.

It was better than nothing.

Might as well put on his own pajamas as he was already in his room. He fished out a shirt and a tracksuit bottom to wear to bed. They were comfy and nice enough for him to walk around the house and then sleep in them. Plus he liked the shirt. Leon had given it to him a few years ago.

(Back when they both still hadn’t remembered.)

“Come, I’ll show you how to use the shower.”

Both guests walked into the bathroom with him and Arthur quickly explained how it all worked. It wasn’t too complicated, but it had a few strange tweaks about it.

With a fresh towel and the clean clothes in hand, Galahad closed himself in the bathroom.

Arthur returned to the living room.

Merlin stood in the corridor for some time, observing the door to the bathroom like he expected to hear a shout or a shriek coming from behind it.

(Like he was ready for black tendrils to appear form beneath the door and swallow the entrance whole, locking the boy inside, away from Merlin for all eternity.)

When the sink started running, Merlin bit his lip, turned around, walked slowly forward and sat back in the chair he had occupied before.

Arthur grabbed the laptop and moved to the kitchen too.

The silence between them was deafening, incredibly dense and thick like tar, making it almost unable to breathe freely. It had never been like that between them. Their calm times had been always filled with voices, conversations, laughter or whispers. The silence only had appeared when either of them had been angry or sad or had had to focus on something, but even then it hadn’t been that dense.

Arthur opened one tab on the laptop, only to close it and open another one a second later. He didn’t have anything to do on the computer to be fair. He just needed an excuse to sit close to Merlin without looking suspicious.

The water ran freely in the bathroom.

“Why are you doing it?” Merlin suddenly asked.

Arthur, not expecting it, almost fell off the chair.

“What? Using laptop? Actually–”

Merlin huffed.

“I meant helping us. Why are you helping us?”

Merlin looked at him intensely, staring into his eyes, awaiting the words that would leave the lips.

Arthur knew why he was doing it, but sharing the truth wouldn’t help him right now. So he had to cut it or show the other side of it, one that was bearable.

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” Arthur answered, prolonging the words in the way that made him sound kinda prattish and lifting his one eyebrow to further on point out the idiocy of the question, which wasn’t stupid at all.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, because every person would offer a night at home for random people they met on the street.”

“They should, the world would be a better place then.”

“This is how killers get their preys.” Merlin added.

Arthur shrugged and then opened another random, empty tab.

“Just don’t leave any blood stains on the carpet. They would be a bitch to get rid of.”

That at least got a positive response as Merlin snorted under his nose, clasping both of his hands around the cup of tea.

Arthur’s mouth twitched, not being able to not respond to that clear and sweet show of familiar emotion.

“Nothing hydrogen peroxide, lemon juice or baking soda couldn’t deal with.”

Okay, this made Arthur snort playfully, feeling a spark inside his heart, a sun reflecting on the armor during the warm days.

“Do I want to know from where you know it?” Arthur asked, glancing up for a moment.

Merlin pointed with his head towards the bathroom.

“He actually told me.”

“Galahad?” Arthur said and immediately bit his tongue.

Shit, stupid mistake.

Merlin frowned at that, pinched his pale lips in an even tighter line and then grasped tighter the cup.

It seemed that another layer had been added to the barrier around Merlin. A second after Arthur had started to tear it down, brick by brick.

“Yes, Galahad.”

Merlin was clearly unhappy with Arthur knowing Galahad’s name, especially when Merlin himself still didn’t give his own name to Arthur. He didn’t trust him. And even though it was a logical thing to do, he still could give Arthur a fake name and be done with it. But no, Merlin remained secretive and quiet.

“He’s a smart kid.” Arthur said after a while, trying to get back on the good side.

How he had managed to do it in his past life he wasn’t sure. He had had a ton of luck back then probably. Because now it seemed impossible to do. Almost as impossible as taking the Excalibur out of the stone. That had been easy in comparison to this.

Merlin sighed, but didn’t drop the barrier.

“Yes, he is.” Then after a second he added. “Incredibly stubborn too.”

“Well you know, they say that stubbornness can be inherited.”

Merlin glanced up.

“Are you insinuating something?” He inquired, with a hint of levity at the end, a mockery dressed in a comforting, sweet, but joking tone.

Familiar, painfully so, and yet so different.

“Nothing at all. Just pointing out the similarity of your ears.”

“Hey!”

It was okay, that was okay. This was getting him somewhere. This was showing him all the familiar reactions and known smirks and comforting glances and intimate furrows of eyebrows.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“You’re kind of a prat.”

Arthur’s heart broke, crashed, crumpled down like it was cut by a sword.

“Well, it’s not a nice thing to say to the person who helps you.” He almost whined, but tried to wrap the words with a little bit of anger.

Merlin glanced up at him with that impish smile.

“And yet, it’s the truth nevertheless.”

Arthur huffed exasperatedly and was already opening his mouth to retort something back, when the door to the bathroom opened and Galahad stepped out.

And indeed, he was swimming in Arthur’s clothes.

“The bathroom is free.” He stated.

Arthur glanced at Merlin.

“Do you want to use it?”

“If you don’t mind.” Merlin nodded.

The clinging clothes definitely had to be troublesome and uncomfortable.

“Let me get you a fresh towel.” Arthur nodded.

With a new towel and clean, borrowed clothes it was Merlin’s turn to disappear in the bathroom, leaving Galahad and Arthur to fend for themselves.

To be honest, spending time with Galahad was less stressful than spending time with Merlin. And wasn’t that surprising.

Arthur still could remember those good old times, spent in his own chambers with Merlin tottering around and him trying to write a speech. It had been an everyday life rhythm, comforting and dear, yet bizarre with Merlin pointing out the mistakes in the writing or Arthur passing a cup of wine to his servant. There had been just the two of them, no barriers or walls between.

And now Arthur felt like he didn’t know Merlin at all. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the life he had lived had sculpted him into something different, a statuette of a man he once had been, but now it was broken, barely holding the parts together. There was so much to unpack, so many shattered, small pieces to glue back together, that Arthur wasn’t even sure where to start.

“Don’t worry about him. Dad is always like that with people he doesn’t know.”

Arthur shook his head, trying to get back from the lake of his thoughts onto the shore of the consciousness.

“Hm?” He intelligently said.

Galahad pointed with his head towards the bathroom, from which they could hear running water.

“My dad. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“I’ve noticed.” Arthur admitted with a small smile, tilting his head in that way he hoped said a thousand words.

Galahad apparently understood what he had meant, because he blushed a little. One hand moved to his face where he brushed his cheeks, like this movement could get rid of the color that was residing there.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It was very smart of you.”

Galahad blushed harder and more furiously brushed his cheeks.

Arthur laughed at that.

It was weird, peculiar even. To sit here, in his house with a small kid that was apparently Merlin’s son and the man himself taking the shower just a few paces away. Strange, but not unwelcomed.

The tornado of the questions inside his head was swirling, twisting, spiraling and whirling, leaving everything inside his mind a mess, a clatter of stars running across the sky. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he wanted to understand, but for the first time in a pretty long time he weirdly felt happy, content, like he had made a good step in the wanted direction.

They could deal with it. They always had done that. Why would this time be any different?

Arthur tilted his head, as he glanced at Galahad who played with his phone.

“Do you want Wi-Fi password?” He asked.

Galahad glanced up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Yes, please.”

After the password was passed and Galahad managed to connect to the internet on his phone, the smile he received in return blinded Arthur.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They both occupied their time sitting on their respective devices. And this time Arthur did open some sites, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. It was already pretty late, way after the time he usually fell asleep on the couch or in his bed. But then he didn’t want to miss anything, any precious minutes spent with Merlin actually, really being here.

After a few minutes the shower stopped and then Merlin stepped out, hair unruly and still wet and cheeks blazing red due to the heat that steamed out of the bathroom.

(Arthur was right, the clothes hung on him. And no, it wasn’t because Arthur had gained a few pounds, he always was a little bit more muscular than lanky Merlin.)

“Did you put the clothes in the washing machine?”

Merlin turned to him and nodded.

Arthur stood up.

“Okay, let me set it on the quick wash. The clothes should be washed in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Merlin murmured and then turned to the boy. “Come on Galahad, you need to go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

The boy glanced at his dad and it seemed like he bit his tongue in time before he said something. He slipped off the chair and then walked forward to grab Merlin’s palm.

“Good night, mister.” Galahad said, looking at him.

“Good night, kiddo.” Arthur replied.

Merlin pressed his lips in a tight line, but didn’t comment. Only moved swiftly through the corridor towards the guest room.

A little bit rude, but kinda expected.

Arthur walked into the bathroom that seemed like a dragon cave with so much fog spiraling around.

Okay, someone here definitely preferred warmness to cold, refreshing showers.

The clothes were indeed already put in the washing machine, but then it was counterproductive to turn it on with so little inside, so Arthur decided to add several of his own clothes. He was supposed to do the washing soon, may as well do it now. He took out a few pieces of clothing from inside the laundry basket, then added the detergent and turned on the washing machine.

Here was the ex-king of Camelot, using washing machine. Brilliant in all his soapy glory.

Arthur went out and glanced around the suddenly empty house. Might as well start cleaning around. He would be a bit drowsy tomorrow, but at least his house would be clean for the morning.

He was shuffling towards the living room, when bits and pieces of a conversation caught his attention.

“Why are you so unkind to him?” Galahad quietly asked.

Arthur stopped breathing for a moment.

“I’m not unkind.” Merlin replied.

“You are, more so than usual when you meet someone new.”

“It’s not true. I held a normal conversation with him.”

There was a sound of rustling, like someone moved the curtains to hide the light that definitely would be sneaking inside the room in the morning.

“Dad.” Galahad said.

This time no reply came from Merlin’s side, only quiet steps across the floor.

“Is it because he is the Golden King?”

One more time this name. What were they talking about? He never had heard this one before today. The King of Camelot? Yes. The Once and Future King? Definitely. The King of Albion? Also that. The King of Prats? On a few occasions. But the Golden King was new.

Merlin sighed.

“Get in the bed, Galahad. It’s late.”

There was a sound of shuffling and susurration like someone slipped under the quilt.

“But it’s true. It is him.” Galahad quietly added, from behind the closed door.

“I believe you.”

“Then why are you acting like that?”

Another short pause, stillness that could tear down cities.

“Maybe the fact that he’s the Golden King simply scares me.”

Arthur felt like his heart lurched forward, knocked and crashed on his chest, making his breath hitch, squeeze and then combust, disappear after a good hit with a mace without an armor protecting it.

Galahad sniffed.

“That makes no sense.”

“I bet it doesn’t.”

Another set of rustling ships on the ocean from quilt.

“Sweet dreams.”

“G’night, dad.”

The sound of a kiss followed Arthur as he stepped away and quickly, but quietly, moved towards the living room to at least pretend that he hadn’t heard it all.

He couldn’t exactly control his hands, which trembled rapidly as he stacked the newspapers and magazines that had been scattered across the coffee table. He also grabbed the old cup of coffee and the bowl of spaghetti, that still remained there, and turned around to bring them to the kitchen, when a silhouette standing in the corridor made him jump.

“Oh shit, I thought you went to sleep.” Arthur said in lieu of explanation to his almost shriek that he definitely hadn’t let out.

“No, still here.” Merlin mumbled back, standing there, in Arthur’s clothes and looking really out of place.

Arthur swallowed hard and then looked up at the ceiling. What should he do? Should he say something? Merlin didn’t look like he wanted to talk. Every Arthur’s previous attempt at conversation had been thwarted and had ended in silence. Why now should be any different?

With nothing better to do, Arthur turned on his heel and moved with his dirty dishes towards the kitchen.

“Let me help you.” Merlin suddenly said and almost appeared next to him, taking the dishes from his hands.

“You don’t have to do it. I can manage.” Arthur quickly stated, trying to move away and not lose the grip he still had on the bowl and cup.

“No, let me do it.” Merlin insisted.

“Really, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

And who was Arthur to say no to that determined face? If Merlin wanted to clean Arthur’s dirty dishes, then he was free to do that. He had done it before, long, long time ago.

Also, wasn’t that a weird change, from almost no speaking to holding something that resembled a bit a normal conversation. Maybe Merlin did feel bad that he had treated Arthur coldly. Or maybe Galahad had pushed something inside of him, let some walls crumble with a simple touch, perhaps a spell for a soul. Yeah, that could be it.

“Okay.” Arthur breathed out.

He let go of the dishes and decided to clean the rest of the kitchen – put the tomatoes and pickles back in the fridge, hide the toast bread in the cupboard and then swipe the crumbs away from the sandwich toaster, only to put it in its rightful place.

Merlin worked in silence, methodically scrubbing the cups from coffee and tea marks, getting rid of the stains of oil on the plates and disintegrating the once tomato sauce in the bowl with hot water and a dish soap. There was a crease on his forehead, one that Arthur knew well, one that showed that he was deep in his thoughts, thinking intensively about something, something that was utterly complicated and, more possibly than not, without any good way out.

Arthur never had liked this look. But right now he doubted Merlin would share his thoughts with him. Now more than ever.

The washing machine peeped, which signaled the end of the program, so Arthur went there to grab the clothes and put them on the clothes dryer rack standing in the corridor.

The unfamiliar clothes looked out of place in the row next to his own laundry, one that lived here the good portion of their life.

Arthur stared at them for a second too long probably.

“Thank you.”

Arthur snapped his head up.

“For what?” He asked, feeling his heart rattling inside his ribcage.

Merlin was done with the washing and now was standing awkwardly in the living room, eons, light-years away and yet closer to Arthur than in the last thousand and five hundred years.

“For letting us stay the night here, for the food, for allowing us to take a shower, for the clothes.”

For helping was left unsaid, but Arthur nevertheless understood the meaning.

He leaned down to grab another piece of clothing to put on the rack.

“It’s not a problem.” He sniffed, trying to hide how much those simple words made him ache all over inside.

“But it is.” Merlin insisted, scrunching his nose in that confused old habit.

“Not for me.” Arthur said and then bit his tongue.

Merlin turned the deep, blue eyes back at him, staring intensively, suspiciously, but with a hint of interest like Arthur was a weird specimen and Merlin tried to understand him all from the inside out. He stared like he could read Arthur, like he could know and see his every feeling and emotion that he had hid under his skin.

Then Merlin shook his head, scattering around the too long, curly, black strands on the pale forehead, and glanced back up at him.

“Can I help you more somehow?”

Arthur hung his shirt.

“No, don’t worry, I’m going to sleep after finishing this.” Arthur said, pointing at the small pile of wet clothes. “You should too, it’s really late.”

The man nodded, then walked forward, moving towards the closed door of the guest room and opened it with a quiet creak.

Arthur turned to the drying rack, trying to calm his wildly beating heart, when the voice came back again, destroying everything that he had started to tidy and build inside his mind, chest and heart.

“Merlin.”

Arthur snapped his head back up so quickly that he almost could hear something in his neck cracking. This would hurt in the morning.

“Pardon?” He murmured, blinking and hoping and praying and needing–

Merlin licked his lips hesitantly.

“My name. It’s Merlin.”

“Oh.” Arthur breathed out, feeling the tremors inside his body, the earthquake that wanted to swallow him whole, the tsunami of emotions trying to break loose.

“You know, like the wizard from the Arthurian legends.” Merlin added, almost smiling to him with that playful and yet tired glint in his blue eyes.

Arthur snorted loudly, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing in, trying to control the whirlpool of memories striving to make him kneel and bend his head to bare the neck.

“I bet some people can’t let the opportunity slip?”

“Don’t you know all about it?” Merlin quipped, looking at him with mirth dancing in the corners of his uplifted lips.

Arthur smiled under his nose. He had been the butt of jokes way before he had remembered that he was indeed the real and true Arthur Pendragon. The number of times someone had made those jokes was bigger than Gwaine’s ego and it was enormous.

“I do know all about that.” Arthur admitted, smiling to Merlin.

The male stared back at him, some strange, unknown emotion flicking in these deep eyes and smiling lips. It was a skittish feeling, hesitant, almost embarrassed, but also kind and warm – a soft touch of familiarity in the dark wood, a delicate caress of the fire during the cold nights, a comforting scent of leather in the morning.

Arthur stared back, seeing and feeling like he could do it for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough to believe that Merlin was really here.

Merlin finally cleared his throat when Arthur literally didn’t move for fifteen seconds.

“I’ll be going to sleep then.”

“Okay.”

Merlin nodded at that and then opened his mouth one more time.

“Good night, Arthur.”

“Good night, Merlin.” Arthur whispered back.

And with that his long lost and finally found friend disappeared in the guest room.

Arthur finished hanging the clothes and then moved towards the kitchen to turn off the laptop and switch off the lights, when it all hit him. The whole today crashed into his body, took his breath away, slashed his muscles, pierced his bones and turned his mind to golden dust. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, but suddenly it felt like there was no free space, that there were too many emotions, feelings, memories, questions, possibilities, hopes, fears and dreams inside his body to bear it all.

Merlin was here. He was really here. His body and soul and heart were really here. Years and years of searching, of checking, of looking, of gathering information, of sleepless nights and aching mornings, of dreams and nightmares, of hopes and despair, of wanting, of needing came down to this.

The weight of it all crashed down on him and he had no energy to keep his body upright. So Arthur slumped on the kitchen chair and hid his face in his hands.

What should he do from now on?

“Take me back in time to love you

Take me back when we were lost

Lost in love and lost in feeling

Without the cost.”

– Jeff Blim

#Merthur #Arthur Pendragon #Merlin #Arthur #The adventures of Merlin #my stories?#my art?#Take me back!AU

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