#OH! And usually this winds up with someone like ‘what are the links? share the links?’ NO

[onifanss]

This is some ultra level degen shit but I have like a whole bunch of links to stuff I like to watch when y’know~ the mood hits. Yeah yeah I know it’s bad whatever BUT!! I didn’t realise I have those links in my notes that are like… in the cloud?????? And I updated something and ALL of my notes disappeared and I was legit staring at the “0 notes” on my phone like 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Luckily all is well and my degen notes list still exists it was just taking some time to come back to me. Goddamn, the scream I scrumpt 😩

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 9 *final chapter* (4.9k words)

Summary: Final chapter! Valeria thinks of the past as you're released from custody. She wants the two of you to move on but she can't shake the feeling that there's still danger to be faced. Warnings: lesbian smut Note + tag list at the end Link to A03 Link to masterlist with all the parts

Valeria thought of the moment you met. Or rather, the moment she met you because you hadn’t noticed her.

It was many years ago when she was a soldier of the Mexican Army, when she was younger and lost. When she would wander the streets of Las Almas on her days off, unsure of what she was looking for. Back when her skin was tighter, her voice quieter, when she used to follow other people’s orders. It was another hot day when she got sent out of the headquarters to fetch some lunch for her squad – her most loathsome task. She hated how she’d run into other female soldiers her age during the lunch run and feel the burdened femaleness of the task. Hated having a male squad leader who found every chance to shove her in the kitchen by making her fetch something from one. She felt like an armed waitress. And worst of all, she hated the conversations that would happen when she was not there, when the team was finally ‘free’ to speak its mind without having to worry about offending someone. But she bit her tongue and said nothing. It was like a rite of passage for people like her. The go-to kitchen was one run by old Renata, an aged woman who ran a tiny thing in the corner that was able to produce an incredible amount of delicious food. Renata was a small, capable woman who sped around the place fulfilling everyone’s orders. There were never any complaints, and it was close enough to the headquarters that most soldiers used it as their prime takeout spot. She was open from noon till late and was favoured enough that Renata never had to worry about security because there were always soldiers there. Renata winked at Valeria as she approached the kitchen, which was already steaming with food. The restaurant was on the ground floor of a blue building; the restaurant dwelled on the ground floor and the upper floors were for residents. The outdoor part of the kitchen included a counter with stools and some outdoor fridges full of drinks and lollies. Large pans cooked steamy food at the front whilst a narrow, dark hallway led to an area in the back where the rest happened. The smell of spiced food and the loud sound of the fridge containing ice cold drinks were delightful to Valeria’s senses. She held a piece of paper in her hands.

“Valeria, my sweet. What can I get for you?” Renata asked with that warm, maternal glow that some old women had. It made a painful lump emerge in Valeria’s throat; she swallowed it down. Valeria slid the note to her. “Just the usual, Senora. Thank you.”

Renata glanced at the paper and smiled as Valeria took a seat on one of the stools by the counter. “I’ll add it to the tab,” said the woman and vanished to the other side of the kitchen. It was a hot day yet still busy, even with regular civilians eating or picking up food. Valeria’s mind wandered to things that were occupying her at the moment when she saw the flash of a hair ribbon flicker from the hallway. A shadowed figure moved around hurriedly, moving cartons of stuff per Renata’s instructions. The old woman emerged again with packaged food to give to someone. There was nothing interesting about a hair ribbon, plenty of girls wove them in their plaits. But for some reason, Valeria’s eye stayed fixated on the spot, waiting to see that colour flicker again.

“It’s my granddaughter,” said Renata whilst wrapping something in plastic. Valeria looked around only to realise that Renata was speaking to her. “You have family?” Valeria asked before she could stop herself. But Renata only laughed, the sound was like the jingle of bells caught in the wind.

“Oh yes, plenty. I just don’t like to share my business, but that one’s good. She’s helping out for a bit.” Renata bagged some drinks and held them out to Valeria.

The ribbon flickered again, the colour shone from the few specks of light that fell on the shadows. It was a soft purple colour and attached to a long length of hair. There was something in the way that it glided amongst the darkness of the hallway, how it followed the curve of your movements. It danced like a fallen flower petal and although Valeria was not particularly feminine, there was something that drew her to it. But before she could see more, she had her bag of food and had to return. Curious to see more, Valeria returned right before Renata closed up the place with the excuse that she came to cover the tab.

And that’s when she saw the rest of you. Your skin glistened with sweat underneath the lamp lights, Valeria saw you at work from afar before she approached. A girl with quick hands bobbing her head back and forth between pans, a fistful of paper orders leaking from her front pocket. Large, beautiful eyes that fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. You shone a polite smile at Valeria, acknowledging her as a customer whilst you finished serving someone. Valeria knew from that moment that you would be hers, pure intuition told her so. And so she enjoyed this moment where you were still complete strangers, because soon enough you would be more than that. There was something about the tense line of your mouth as you concentrated, the way it hid your lips that made Valeria want to reach in and remove what ailed you.

“Sorry, what can I get you?” You asked, your hands reaching for a plastic container, waiting for the name of a food. Instead, Valeria outstretched her hand.

“Valeria Garza. Sergeant.” It was something about the way Valeria’s way of speaking that made you look up and see her properly. She had that look soldiers had, that straight back and tone of authority, no matter what their actual rank was. You saw plenty of her people every day who just wanted a service and nothing more. But this one spoke to you. Something fluttered in your stomach when you shook Valeria’s hand. Her hand didn’t hold itself against yours for a few seconds the way that polite handshakes did. It fit your palm perfectly and as Valeria removed her hand, you felt the ends of her fingers caress the length of your palm as if hesitant to lose your touch.

“Y/N,” you said.

Valeria remembered this as she saw you changing your clothes right before your release. The ‘day’ of your release was actually a night as a matter of safety. It was thought best to release such a high-profile person as Valeria when the prison was closed for the night, to avoid the traffic of visitors. The two of you were the only ones in the room but you still covered parts of you whilst changing. Valeria looked at your hair wistfully. “Why don’t you wear ribbons anymore?” She asked.

You looked at her confused and shrugged. “I don’t know. One day I just stopped.” You continued changing. Many years had passed since you met; your body and your hair had changed. When you met, you were young enough to not have quite filled into your womanly features. Those last remnants of puppy fat that cling to women in their early 20s were gone, parts of you were plumper than they used to be, and your hair had changed too. But none of that changed how Valeria looked at you, that twinkle of adoration.

“Yes, but why?” Valeria sat there, staring.

“It’s like the last day you went to play outside. I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t realise it in the moment. But I just never did it again.” You saw how Valeria looked at you in that moment, her dark eyes taking in your body, a hunger. Her lips were pursed. “Is it because you used to do it for Diane?” Valeria saw your movements falter for a second. You scoffed lightly. “When did you remember her?” You mumbled to yourself and stood straight, brushing down your clothes. “Did you though?” Valeria asked. You folded the prison attire and left it in a box. “I told you, baby. I don’t know.” There was a nervous impatience creeping into your voice that Valeria didn’t like, but it was understandable. The closer you got to freedom, the harder it was to stay in there. Valeria knew her question was provocative and frankly unnecessary, but she couldn’t stop herself. She could sense a change in the wind, but Valeria could not yet understand what was happening “I miss them,” said Valeria softly, thinking of the ribbons. She had changed to her usual attire, a black turtleneck clinging to her upper body with her classic chain around her neck. Her work belt was waiting for her past the upcoming security check and she felt its absence on her waist like a phantom limb. Visions of the past had started haunting her recently, creeping up in her waking moments. She wasn’t usually this sentimental and spaced out, but something had changed recently – you could tell. She was becoming…not softer, but wistful of things that were no more. Her fuss about the ribbon was just the latest. She would randomly ask you about what happened to that old garment that you wore on your first date. Or what happened to that bracelet she got you on your first anniversary? And what about that dessert you stopped making?

“What do you think old Renata is up to now?” She asked and you just about lost it. You breathed carefully to calm yourself before turning to your wife, who was now rising from her seat. You caught her hands and placed them on your cheeks, and it snapped Valeria out of her trance.

“Val,” you said in no more than a whisper. “We’ve talked about this.” Your eyes held Valeria’s dark ones, silently pleading for her mercy. Valeria nodded and looked away.

You thought about this change in her behaviour as you left the facility. It was not lost on you that Valeria was getting older and had an atypical, queer life. The regular marks of life were lost to the two of you; you had no children, no ‘regular’ income with Valeria’s operation, and no holidays with family. The two of you were your own unit and were happy. But recent events had pulled the rug beneath Valeria’s feet, and you wondered if she was starting to question the point of all this. The heavy metal door of the entrance opened up to the darkness of the outside world. It was a cloudy night with no moonlight and no stars, but the fresh country air brushed your cheeks blissfully.

Security was tight, you made out the shapes of guards everywhere you looked and there was a cacophony from the barks of police dogs. Harsh white lights were set to guide you towards the helipad where Valeria’s helicopter rested. And there, amidst the harshness of the yard, was an unmarked vehicle and a woman leaning on it. Her eyes were set on the pair of you as you stepped out. Valeria tightened her hold on your hand.

“What is it now? She whispered to herself as you walked forward. More was visible of that woman as you got closer. She was a middle-aged white woman with a neat, prim appearance. Her hair was a pale colour, somewhere between blonde and white, kept in a neat bun. And her eyes were a piercing blue colour. In fact, she could’ve been older. Her eyes never left Valeria. This usually happened on the rare occasion that you were introduced to someone in Valeria’s presence – they spoke to both of you but really, they spoke to Valeria. Valeria let out a strange noise as she recognized the woman.

“Valeria and Y/N Garza,” she said and glanced at you momentarily. “Congratulations on your release. I wanted to personally apologise on behalf of Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros for the terrible mishandling of your extraction.” Those pale, disconcerting eyes turned to you. They reminded you of a snake. “And I want to personally apologise to you, Y/N Garza, for your terrible treatment during custody. I want to assure you that the person responsible has-"

“Speaking to my wife is a privilege,” Valeria’s cold voice interjected loudly. “No one has it, and especially not you, Kate Laswell." The woman, Kate, pursed her lips together and nodded. She seemed like a powerful woman to you; the way she stood with perfect posture, the neatness of her appearance. And most of all, that shiny American badge handing off her heck. And yet she allowed herself to be scolded by Valeria. "I understand you’re upset, and you have every right to. I just wanted to affirm the terms of our agreement-" “If you want to communicate with me, you have my lawyer’s details. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a home to return to.” Valeria said and nodded her head towards the helicopter, which was now moving its fans rapidly. “Come on,” she mumbled to you. The two of you started walking around Kate, but that woman turned to you again. “I would have done the same for my wife,” said Kate. Valeria stopped and glanced back at Kate with disdain, it was a glance so full of disgust that it made you look away. “You’re nothing like me,” Valeria spat out.

Valeria turned and helped you up the helicopter, then entered herself. There was something about the desperate gesture of goodwill from another woman-lover that felt too precious to allow to disappear. This woman didn’t have to do this, but she still chose to be here, like a daffodil emerging of out of deep snow at the beginning of spring. Unexpected, but welcome. You turned to look at the woman one last time, but Valeria saw what was about to happen and slammed the door quickly before you could say anything. The helicopter lifted off the ground immediately. You turned to her sharply.

“I wanted to thank her,” you complained. Valeria said nothing as she put on her headpiece and began handling the helicopter’s navigation. You gazed out of the window as the world got smaller. Kate didn’t take her eyes off you until she became just another tiny thing on the ground. You wondered what all this was about and tried to release your curiosity. It was probably to do with whatever Valeria did to have you released, that terrible thing she wanted you to stay out of.

After what seemed like forever, you could see the familiar shape of your estate come into focus. You all but leapt out of the aircraft when it touched the grass of your home, which you noticed was trimmed. Valeria must’ve had the place cleaned up and maintained during your time in custody. You noticed Valeria’s frantic scrambling for anything that might have been mailed in, and soon enough the ‘business’ part of the estate was in full swing. Men ran around per Valeria’s loud orders, her shouts echoing down the many hallways. You tried not to feel hurt when she entered her study and locked the door behind her. You headed for your golden bathroom and filled the tub with hot, soapy water.

You immersed yourself inside and tried to clean yourself of all that happened. You washed off the cold looks from the man with the skull masked, scrubbed off Alejandro’s threats, and rinsed off the old skin of a body that dwelled in confinement. You then lathered your body with all the scented creams you could combine until you smelled like a flower nymph, you dressed your body in the silkiest garments you could find. Anything to return to the woman you were before Alejandro had leapt inside yours and Valeria’s bedroom.

You were almost asleep by the time Valeria returned. Her steps were so quiet that she startled you when she suddenly slipped inside the sheets, coming to spoon you from behind. She burrowed her face in the nook of your neck and inhaled deeply, you felt the softness of her skin on your back as she held you close. As she exhaled, you smelled the faint linger of nicotine in her breath and grumbled. “Just for tonight, baby. I’m sorry.” She said and gave small pecks to your jaw and then the back of your ears. “You smell so good,” she mumbled and tugged at your ears with her teeth. One of her hands roamed the length of your figure and you leaned back towards her body, feeling the soft and hard parts of her. The softness of her chest and tummy, the firmness of her upper arms, the strength of her legs as they snaked around yours and held you in place. You turned and shared a big, long kiss. You tasted the faint linger of smoky nicotine in her mouth mixed with the tangy sweetness of alcohol. She had celebrated your return home in her own way.

Valeria pulled back from you. “What if we left?” she asked, her lips almost touching yours. Her eyes were closed as she said this, and you nuzzled your face to hers. Suddenly, you felt how cold she was: she must’ve been smoking outside. It was something she did rarely because you hated the smell and you had always warned her about how it would yellow her teeth. It was a hard habit to break and although she was mostly clean, there were moments where she just needed a smoke.

You cupped the back of her head, the softness of her hair awakened something inside of you. A hunger, a warmth that glowed within you; you felt the same thing linger in Valeria’s body, down her legs and in her abdomen. The silence of the estate reminded you of your returned privacy. “I’d follow you anywhere,” you whispered and kissed her. Valeria moaned into the kiss, that delightful sound buzzed on your skin. She held your face with her hand, deepening the kiss until your bodies were desperately crashing into each other. Sloppy, wet kisses were interrupted by the shuffle of your bedsheets as you clawed at each other’s layers, begging to see and feel the other’s skin.

“You’re so cold, my love,” you whispered as Valeria pulled down your nightgown. Your breasts came into view and the sight elicited a soft noise from your wife. Valeria’s eyes darkened as she looked at them. She removed her final layer and tossed it across the room. “Come warm me up,” she said and pulled you on top of her. Your body fit onto hers and you enjoyed how similar yet different the two of you were. Two soft bodies pressing into each other; one cold, one warm. The tantalizing softness of your chests being brought together; the way she pressed you down onto her as she sought your warmth and softness, wanting to desperately feel your wetness onto her own. You kissed and allowed Valeria’s greedy tongue into your mouth, one of her hands kept travelling further down your back and she slowly inserted one of her fingers inside you. The kiss broke and you moaned weakly. Valeria moved her head higher to steal your lips again. Her finger stretched and curled, teasingly lingering close to your sensitive spot.

“That’s what you were thinking about. Right, princess?” Valeria asked and made you look at her, her finger exited and caressed your special spot on the outside, wetting your clit with your juices. “Yes,” you mewled, and she rewarded you with two fingers.

“You’re so warm,” Valeria whispered, and you kissed again. She slowed down and pumped weakly in and out of you, making you move your lower body desperately for more. You felt Valeria chuckle beneath you, she found it amusing when you moved yourself onto her hands; Valeria wanted to feel imperative to the path of your desire. She was the keeper of your pleasure, an instrument to your love making, your path to bliss. She urged you to keep going and just watched you dance to the song of your passion, watched as you moved to straddle her. The sight of your breasts bouncing up and down as you rose and lowered yourself onto her hand.

“Be loud for me, baby. I’ve missed it.” Valeria said as you bit your lip. Arousal made you bold and when Valeria moved her hand so it pumped into you, you spread your legs and moved frantically to your climax. Your cries of pleasure mixed with Valeria’s commands to keep going, to keep clenching onto her like the desperate, lovely thing that you were. To be good and open your legs more so she can see you come prettily, like you always did. You closed your eyes as the sensitive, hot spot within you erupted and the heat reverberated across your body. Valeria sighed satisfyingly as she pumped a bit more into you, making you jolt in your place as she sought the last scraps of your orgasm.

You looked down and found Valeria smiling to herself. “You’re glistening like a diamond, my love.” You huffed and breathed out from your slightly swollen lips, then lowered yourself onto her again. Valeria made a small noise as your ground your wetness all over hers, shivering as you rubbed onto her clit. Your hand reached into a drawer of your bedside table as you continued this movement until you found what you were looking for. “My love…” Valeria trailed off as she noticed this.

“You missed your favourite, no?” You said and brought her favourite toy in sight, a lengthy vibrator. You wanted her to have a truly special moment now that you were back home and safe to express the true potential of your eroticism. And there was one thing in particular that you felt she needed, something that was more than just the gratification of her senses: words of love. “Let me speak my love to you,” you said. Valeria’s eyes were dark with lust, and she flushed at the sight of the toy. But beneath that passion lay something vulnerable. Something that needed to be gently caressed. Valeria’s recent ramblings had concerned you and the way she mentioned your ex today was the nail in the coffin. Valeria, you felt, was feeling insecure. Intimacy is more than just sex, it is the tenderness of sweet words whispered between kisses and licks, it is found in the gentle touch of a lover who sees behind the desire within your eyes and speaks to the person in there who is desperate to unify with their partner. Who wants to reach true intimacy, to embed their soul unto yours. Sweet words were necessary with Valeria, but you couldn’t do that when using your tongue for other things. Valeria was quiet, she tugged at your lips with her teeth and opened her legs.

“You know how much I love you, Val.” You said whilst gazing into your eyes. Valeria nodded and you kissed, your hands positioned themselves close to Valeria’s core.

“I want to be with you forever,” you whispered and caressed the clean plastic onto Valeria’s wetness, you felt her sigh shakily.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” you pecked at her neck in between your words. Valeria’s little noises hummed out of her as you tugged at the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, the spot that made her squirm. “Y/N…” she whimpered your name pleadingly and the toy came to life. “I love you more than anything,” you said as you made love to her. The toy vibrated tantalizingly on her clit and rested there as you inserted a finger inside. Valeria moaned out your name and pleaded for kisses with her eyes, which you granted.

"Does my love feel good?” You asked her and she nodded whilst biting her lip. Valeria threw her head to the side with ecstasy. She cried out for more, which you delivered. You increased the toy’s setting and slowed down with your fingers so she could enjoy more of her pleasure. “You’re so beautiful,” you moaned and busied yourself with your wife’s throat, licking and kissing and biting it. Seeing Valeria like that turned you on and you lowered your core onto hers, feeling the second-hand vibrations bounce from Valeria’s skin onto yours. Valeria’s hands trailed down your back, making you shiver. The sounds of wet skin slapping, of moans and gasps filled your marital bedroom, the bedframe creaked as you made passionate love. “Come on, come on,” you mewled and pumped into her faster than before. You could tell she was close from her movements, her fingernails were digging into your skin almost painfully, but the discomfort got lost amidst the high of your sex. “Show me your love, Val. Come for me.” You took one of her nipples in your mouth and pinched it with your teeth and it sent Valeria to her climax. “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” she moaned as she started to erupt in orgasm. You saw a glimpse of insecurity flash her eyes as she wet the bed, but you drew out all of it with your fingers. “It’s natural baby, give all of it to me.” You said and she released it all.

"I’m so proud of you, baby. You haven’t done that in a while.” You said and kissed her forehead. Valeria huffed out and gave you a small smile, her cheeks were flushed with colour.

You cleaned each other in the bathroom with the shy smiles and looks of people who were happy but slightly embarrassed in hindsight. “It’s normal, my love,” you kept saying and washed off Valeria’s skin. The two of you lay in bed for a long time after that, not falling asleep but caressing each other’s skin in the darkness.

“You want to leave?” You asked and heard Valeria sigh next to you.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” She said finally. “He won’t leave us alone.” Fear tugged at your heart as you listened to her. “You think he’ll come after us again?” Valeria nodded next to you, she didn’t need to ask to know who you meant. “You saw how much he hates me, Y/N. And now he hates you. I know Alejandro well enough to know this: he will not stop. I don’t know how he’ll do it, but I know it.” You lay there in silence for a bit as you thought it out. Those people know where you live now – Alejandro’s team and the people he worked with. And who’s to say that the rest wouldn’t want revenge too. You remembered that masked man who removed you from the container, the one with the skull face. You remembered how his partner got hurt when you fled, maybe worse. What if he also wants revenge for what happened? You got him in trouble, didn’t you?” You asked her and felt Valeria turn to you sharply. You spoke quickly before she could jump to any conclusions. “I haven’t inferred anything more, I promise. And I won’t ask. But I can tell that much. You think he’ll want revenge for that?” Valeria shifted next to you and, for the first time ever, she let you to a part of her that was carefully guarded. The mastermind behind everything. “Yes.” You turned and softly pressed your forehead onto hers. The smell of soap on her skin mixed with her natural smell and as you inhaled it, you felt how badly you wanted the moment to last forever. “Let’s leave, Val.”

For the rest of the night, whispers of forgotten dreams and giggles over potential occupations turned your bedroom into a portal of the wildest parts of your imagination. What if you retired early by the seaside? What if you finally wrote that cooking book that you sometimes daydreamed about when setting the table? And what if Valeria became an art collector with the rest of her money? What if you vanished into thin air?

*

It was many months later when someone visited that estate again. A figure jumped over a wall in the middle of the night and shuffled around the bushes. Their eyes scanned the perimeter with the movements of a predator that sought its prey. That person slowly arose to their full height in disbelief: the place was entirely deserted. Only some scraps of light from lampposts illuminated whatever was left behind. The house was a shell of its former self, dark and devoid of people. Gnarly bushes of roses and overgrown weeds desecrated the once carefully maintained garden, they stretching out their green, thorny limbs to tear at the man’s uniform. Alejandro cursed loudly as he looked around, he called out to someone. And somewhere far away, two women danced in their warm kitchen, swinging their hips and laughing as their dinner cooked. In the living room, a fire was going in the fireplace, and they would later sit and sip their wine whilst watching a film. And then, they would go to bed. Because your life didn’t end when you were stolen from your wife. And her life didn’t end when she lost you. You would find each other over and over again just so you could dance like this. This moment was infinite. There was only one way things could have ended, and this was it. In Valeria’s arms, hearing your food bubble in the pot. Life didn’t have to be about money and blood and fear. It could be about dancing in the kitchen with your love late at night, seeing Valeria’s eyes twinkle beneath the light.

Note: Final chapter y'all we did it! Thank you so much for reading my story, I hope you liked the ending. This is the first fanfic I've ever finished omg. I got very attached to Valeria and Y/N's story so of course they needed a happy ending :) Writing this series has been so fun for me, thank you for all the comments and likes!

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp @@sae1kie @00ops1e @yaebaal @p3arlier @xreals @coffeeandtealol

[maple-the-awesome]

When Another Finds Out About His Crush Part 2/3

Part 1 || Part 3

Pairings: Sky, Time, Twilight x GN Reader

Overview: What happens when someone else in the Chain finds out about his feelings towards you?

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Sky is arguably one of the most passive Links in the chain. Laid back, often tired, and a ‘dripping optimistic’ (as Legend once complained), it would be easy to forget that he's the one who had gone face-to-face with a demon god before. His ability to be cheerful and kind is not something he takes lightly, though, so with that in mind, he's reeeally trying to bite back his irritation right now and keep smiling.

Sky was in such a good mood earlier today - better than usual - because yesterday afternoon, the group had found themselves in his Hyrule - Skyloft, to be exact. That means that he's not only been temporarily reunited with his friends and the world he knows best, but that he also gets to show it all off to his new companions as well. Stretching the meaning even further, this translates to him finally getting to show you around his home!

He was overjoyed when you agreed to a personal tour of Skyloft. You'd get to see where he's grown up, meet his people, and (hopefully) fall just as in love with this little island as he is until you (maybe) decide you might actually like to move here yourself. That's why he promised to show you everything and to have a wonderful afternoon together. Just him, you...and Wind.

Oh, Wind...Why couldn't he be more like the others, so worn and drained of energy that the very last thing they wanted was to be dragged around an entire island all day with an unusually (and scarily) vibrant Sky who woke up before noon for once? Why couldn't Wind have just taken the hint when Sky tried to divert his attention, doing his best to turn down the young pirate's requests to tag along without downright saying 'no' because at that point, it would've gained suspicion from everyone else, tempting them to ask why you, out of all of them, get a private tour of Skyloft?

Don't get him wrong: Sky is by no means ashamed of his feelings. They're only natural especially when faced with such beauty. He just wants his confession to be on his own terms, not due to some likely inappropriate jokes that would come from some of the other boys' teasing (particularly from the likes of Legend or Warrior). In his mind, he's decided that you deserve something romantic and sweet - a tender moment shared between only the two of you so that you may understand his affections without any pressure to agree to them. It just...takes a bit of courage to finally plan that moment out is all, but he'll be sure to tell you some day...Someday when Wind isn't around to play the role of an awkward third wheel…

Wind clearly means well. He’s still young - a child even, some would say despite his objections. It isn't necessarily his fault that he's running around asking question after question about Skyloft or that he likes to call your attention to anything he's found that can be deemed 'cool'. It isn't your fault either that you answer to his beckoning, simply being the caring person that you are. Now, Sky would also argue that it isn't his fault for being so jealous right now, but if he truly believed that, there probably wouldn't be even a hint of shame in his heart like there currently is.

He's reeeally doing his best to keep positive. You look so adorable playing with a litter of remlit kittens. His only critique is that he wishes to be the one sitting next to you in the place of that pirate. Instead, he sits a few feet away, his chin against his palm as he huffs bitterly for what feels like the hundredth time, the childish side of him hoping you'll hear and inquire about what's on his mind, yet once again, you don't. You're too busy squealing over the fluffy little creatures who curl up on top of your lap for a nice nap. For Hylia's Sake! Even those little gremlins are luckier than him!

As a more rational person would point out, there's nothing actually preventing Sky from sitting next to you, after all, Wind is to your right and there's plenty of room to your left if he just moves the remlit mother laying there. A few scratches would be worth your company surely, but no, Sky would rather mope here alone, waiting rather (extremely) impatiently for the moment you stand to dust yourself off.

"Alright! I think the longer I sit here, the less strength I'll have to leave and I'm really looking forward to seeing the rest of Skyloft while we're here, so what's next, knight?" At long last, your glowing eyes finally bless Sky with your attention, your joyful smile almost instantly making him forget about his previous dread.

"We haven't seen my loftwing yet. Wanna meet him?"

He didn't think it was possible for your eyes to get any brighter, however he stands corrected, "Do I!"

There's no way Sky could ever let you down, so he wastes no time leading you to the edge of the island where he calls his loftwing. Perhaps due to the surprise of not having seen his master in months, the large bird appears swiftly, announcing his arrival with a loud 'squawk' before gracefully landing on the platform in front of you.

You're in awe, as Sky had hoped, unable to tear your eyes away from the shimmer of the loftwing's crimson feathers which are just as impressive as your friend has described to you. Unfortunately, before he can comment on your amazement, he’s reminded once again that the two of you aren't the only ones here. In seconds of the loftwing landing, Wind's presence is once again made apparent, "WOAH! He's so cool! This is how you get around these islands? I wish I had a bird to explore the sky with - I mean, I prefer keeping to the sea with the company of a good ship - but just to see what's above the clouds or to go over large mountains instead of around would be awesome!"

"Wind's right! To be among the clouds and see the world from a bird's eye view...What I wouldn't give to see that - Although, I'm sure you're pretty accustomed to flying yourself, huh Sky -?" Your smile disappears when you look back to your friend only to finally notice his pout. You don't think you've ever seen him look so upset aside from whenever he's 'woken up too early', "...Hey, are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." He grumbles, however the worry never leaves you nor does the frown. It feels like a stab to his heart, reminding him of how unfair he's truly being today. Wind is his friend who’s merely expressing interest in his home and culture. It isn't like he's purposely trying to step on Sky's toes or be an annoyance, he's just having fun during one of their rare days off. As for you, you've been looking forward to seeing Skyloft ever since you first learned of it. You deserve to have a nice day to relax and fulfill your wish, not have it bittered because of Sky's selfish mood. He should be ashamed of himself for not valuing his time with you as it is, alone or not.

"...I can always take you flying, you know?"

"Really?!"

He nods, giving a more genuine smile than the forced ones he's worn previously today, "It sounds like we'll be staying here for the rest of the day. I'm sure we could squeeze in some time later -"

"- Why don't you just go now?" Wind quizzes with a perked eyebrow, making Sky flinch.

Despite deciding that he'll no longer be jealous or annoyed with the younger boy, he finds himself fearful over the idea of being stuck in the sky for hours with him. Yes, his loftwing can technically carry the weight of all three of you, but how awkward would that be? He'd much rather wait and find a moment to sneak off with you later than somehow become the third wheel on his own non-official date, "Uh, n-no. Not right now. I'm sure you two want to keep going with the tour, so -"

"- Actually I was gonna head back anyway," Wind mentions with a casual shrug, surprising Sky, "It's almost lunch and last time I was late, Wild gave me cold soup. Good soup isn't meant to be cold! Never again!"

Sky hesitates, perhaps expecting Wind to actually change his mind once he agrees to take you on a flight, however to his continued surprise, the Sailor doesn't.

"As much as I've been loving the tour, I wouldn't mind cutting some time off of it for a tour of the sky instead," You add, innocently fluttering your eyelashes in hopes that it will be a good enough argument.

“O-Oh? Then I’m sure going now would be fine. If Wind could update the others so that they don’t get worried looking for us?” A blushing Sky glances to the boy in question who eagerly nods and, for a second, the knight almost sighs aloud in relief.

Pleased with this, you happily turn your attention away from the two to pet the loftwing who leans into your touch, “You wouldn’t mind giving us a ride, right buddy? It would be greatly appreciated.”

Sky’s smile is hardly hidden as he lovingly watches you interact with his beloved loftwing, although he is quickly torn away from the moment by Wind’s sudden voice. He didn’t even realize the boy hadn’t left yet, "You know, just because I'm the youngest doesn't mean I'm blind, right? If you wanted to take them on a date, you should've just said something back at the Academy."

Sky stammers in response, whipping his head around to face the boy as he finally runs off while waving back at you both. Of course, Sky doesn't miss the mischievous smirk he wears, "Have fun you two!"

"’you sure you’re alright, knight?" You ask once finally joined by your friend, noticing the slight red to his cheeks as he wobbles on over, "If you aren't feeling well, we don't have to go today."

"No, I'm fine…'just not the biggest fan of pirates sometimes."

Time has encountered his fair share of mountains - both literally and figuratively, although the former applies here. He's hiked up the steepest of trails where his knees nearly touch the ground and has traced enough cliff edges for the fear to feel numb. Now, that doesn't mean he doesn't get tired or has ever stopped grumbling inside at the sight of such challenges, but he's learned to keep all complaints internal, after all whining has never fixed a problem...If only these boys would learn the same lesson.

There is no silence between the howls of the wind and the dramatic moaning that follows behind him. It's become apparent that not all heroes are as accustomed to trekking over slopes as he is, although that doesn't earn them much sympathy. They're all capable young men who have held their own against even the most fearsome of monsters, so he expects they won't be waving any white flags in defeat to mother nature.

Some are clearly doing better than others in the sense of swallowing their own misery. Wild leads a few yards ahead of the group, arguably faring the best even in comparison to Time which can be blamed on his adaptability gained from his own travels (or the climbing armor he currently wears; a mix of both?).

Warrior and Twilight follow closest behind Time. Every once in a while Warrior will mumble something about being hot to which Twilight will grumble for him to take off his scarf then. Sometimes they bicker beyond that, sometimes Warrior merely huffs and wordlessly adjusts his scarf to be looser around his neck. Although he doesn't spare the Rancher much concern, he seems to find joy in picking on the poor trio who heave behind them - Legend, Hyrule, and four - once making a smug comment about their 'short legs'. Legend would've no doubt whacked or thrown something at him if he wasn't so worn out at the moment.

Sky and Wind follow the three, seeming to lean on each other for support as they whine of burning lungs. While not fully out of their realm, the poor Hylians aren't as used to traveling in the same way as the others, often having the luxury of a loftwing or boat to carry them across the furthest of distances.

Then there's you...At the very back of the line, silent aside from your huffs and puffs, but struggling nevertheless. You’re completely out of your realm here, not having a background comparable to any of the boys, really. You've done hikes, you've walked around town, and maybe you've taken part in some races before, however none of those compare to the exact workout you're currently being subjected to.

You're tired, sweaty, and your legs shake with every step, threatening to collapse at any moment as they curse you for your resistance, but you say nothing of it aloud nor do you complain whenever looking up to see this damn mountain just keeps going and going...Truthfully, you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to drag yourself forward, however you refuse to admit defeat in fear of being thought any less of by the heroes you travel with. You refuse to be their burden and you refuse to act as any kind of annoyance to Time who's obviously wanting to reach the other side sooner than later.

Words can say a lot, but appearances can sometimes say more. It only takes one look at you to see your distress as you stray further and further behind the others, none of whom notice except for Sky who offers aid you brush off and Time who stops at the top of a slope to watch you sympathetically. He may hold the boys to high standards given their titles as heroes, however he understands that doing so to you, at least to the exact extent, would be unfair if not plain cruel.

“Let’s take a break here.”

A chorus of relieved sighs and praises to Hylia follow save for Wild who keeps marching onward until looking back in confusion once he finally notices the group is no longer following his example.

You’re particularly happy to be presented with the gift of rest. Unlike the others who at least have the decency to walk off trail and step into some shade, you collapse to your knees right where you formerly stood, taking a few heavy breathes there before shamelessly crawling under a nearby tree yourself.

“...How much further do we have?” You manage to ask Sky at last after regaining some of your breath. His hesitance is answer enough, causing you to groan.

“The trip down will be much easier than going up,” Time approaches, speaking before the knight can. You notice that he eyes you specifically, “...But we can take another break at the peak once we get there.”

“Thank you Goddesses!” Wind cries - literally, you think there might be tears in his eyes - and it seems that everyone else in the group shares similar thoughts as they relax a bit more, however to Time’s surprise, you no longer share their cheer.

You look down at your sprawled out legs and narrow your eyes as if they’ve done something terrible to you, “...We don’t need to take another break after this one. If we keep stopping, we’ll never reach the base before sundown.”

“Then we make camp on the mountain after going as far as we can in daylight. The terrain might be different than what we’re used to, but we’ll get by.”

“That wasn’t in the original plan.”

“I underestimated the distance we’d be covering. It’s not a massive overwrite -”

“- And it’s one you don’t have to make for my sake,” You click your tongue in annoyance when Time merely blinks at you in wide eyes; the face of mocked innocence that displays his surprise over you having discovered his true motives…as if they were ever that well hidden, “I’m not blind, you know? I can see what you’re doing - you all do the same. I’m not a seasoned traveler like the rest of you, I get it, but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me as such. I can keep up without anyone babying me or, Hylia forbid, thinking any less of me.”

Your last words are mumbled bitterly under your breath, yet Time picks up on the slight sorrow behind them which goes straight to his heart and softens it greatly.

"I don't think any less of you?”

"Clearly you do," You huff, although your eyes focus on the ground sadly as you complain quietly, "You ignored everyone else except for me. When they fall behind, you tell them to keep up. When I fall behind, you stop the world to wait. It’s ‘cause you think I can’t possibly keep up, isn’t it? …You pity me..."

Time frowns deeply at this, wanting so desperately for you to understand that isn't the case. It pains him greatly to hear you believe he looks down upon you. If anything, it's the opposite. Everyone else here has had life experience to train them. You haven’t. So what? That isn’t a bad thing, in fact he thinks it’s wonderful that you haven’t been subjected to the same horrors that he had grown up with. You are a kind and strong soul who deserves nothing but the best in life instead of being beaten down. The very last thing Time would want would be to cause you suffering of any form even if it’s just a bit of exhaustion on a simple hike.

"You weren't able to get up the mountain in one go. So what?" Warrior invites himself into the conversation with a roll of his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he makes his way over, “That doesn't mean anyone here is ‘pitying’ you. Failure is just a part of life as is struggle. We've all encountered it. Hell, you think I would've been able to go up this mountain before I joined the military? The first time I trekked up Death Mountain, I was just as worn out as you. I've had practice since then, and one day you will, too. The important thing is that you've pressed on without arguing, complaining, or giving up. You took on this challenge bravely despite knowing it would be difficult. Getting as far as you have is crazy impressive for someone who's never done it before.”

All of the boys are quick to nod along, some adding their own compliments towards your endurance which leaves you blushing in embarrassment yet feeling touched nevertheless. The only one not to respond immediately is Time. He finds himself jealous of this, wishing he could voice his inner thoughts and admiration towards you as easily as the others do, however when you glance at him - almost as if you’re waiting expectantly for him to add a comment of his own - he loses all courage which is replaced by a heavy thumping in his heart. And here he was starting to think he had outgrown this teenage awkwardness.

“You, uh…If anything, your strength is inspiring. Try not to underestimate it. I assure you, we haven’t.”

You hum with a nod, a bit of cheer returning through your smile; a glowing look Time definitely prefers on you compared to any gloom, “Thanks…Really. It means a lot.”

Soon, the group begins their journey again and like the others, Time is ready to move onwards without anything else said, however his attention is drawn to Warrior when he could’ve sworn he heard the Captain suddenly scoff from his side. The smirk playing on the blond’s face only proves that Time’s ears are still working just fine despite their age.

“That was a good save. I think you owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I must say, lifting (Y/n)’s spirits by complementing their skill provided a far less awkward outcome for everyone compared to having to listen to you deny and eventually stumble over a confession - despite how long one is overdue.”

“...What are you trying to imply?” Time narrows his eye at the Captain who is hardly fazed, in fact he fights the urge to roll his eyes when looking back over his shoulder at the older hero. He can try being as intimidating as he wants, but one look at the man’s dusted red cheeks is all it takes to have Warrior smirking again.

“Ooh, I think you know, Old Man - we all do. I mean, it’s not exactly science to find out why you’re so lenient on (Y/n) and only (Y/n). ‘can’t say favoritism is the most professional for leadership to take part in, buuut it’s nice to see you lighten up a bit and actually act human for once. ‘keep scowling all the damn time and your face will get stuck like that.”

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"You keep fidgeting with your tunic. I swear, you're worse than Wars."

Twilight huffs at your comment, although that doesn't stop him from slapping more dust off of himself despite how doing so wordlessly proves your point, "That's a mighty hard bar to pass, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, you're probably right...But seriously though, what's got you so worried all of the sudden? You act like we're about to walk into Hyrule Castle. You're a ranchhand, for crying out loud! This is where you should feel most comfortable, is it not?" While others might think you're teasing him, he knows you well enough to catch that genuine concern held within your voice. He also knows you well enough to understand that you won't be as willing to drop this topic until it's resolved.

"This isn't just any farm we're headin' to. This is the farm."

"I don't follow," but then you give it some thought, skillfully connecting the dots between Twilight's behavior and the particular home your group approaches, "...Oh...'cause it's Time's place?"

He hums in confirmation as he fights back the urge to ask you about the status of his hair, although if he does that, you'll surely roll over laughing and never let him criticize Warrior's daily 'beauty routine' again.

"Twi, it's Time! Sure, he can come across as a little...stern sometimes, but he isn't Princess Zelda! Just don't kick your muddy boots up on his table or anything like that. Follow those small town manners I know you live by and you'll be fine."

"But -"

"- Besides, I'm like, ninety-seven percent certain that Time favors you out of everyone, so you have nothing to worry about -"

"- It's not that simple!" Twilight pouts, stopping dead in his tracks which consequently causes you to do the same, "...I wanna make a good impression here. It...means a lot to me that I do…”

You sigh before stepping closer to him. There, you take his hand gently and give him an encouraging smile, "And you will. Just be yourself, Twi. There's no shame in that. You're already a great guy, after all - a model, country gentleman, if I've ever met one."

Twilight ducks his head, his cheeks burning due to your words, although luckily for his sake, if you've noticed, you don't comment on it. Instead, your attention is stolen away by the others as the group finally arrives at your long awaited destination: Lon Lon Ranch.

Normally, it would make him beyond nervous (a rambling mess, at best) to have your hand intertwined so tightly in his as you excitedly drag him along, however today can be an expectation. To feel your support quite literally in his grasp means the world to Twilight and does wonders to calm him when it comes to enter the threshold of Time’s cozy little home.

Much to Twilight’s relief, you seem to hold some type of power when it comes to predicting the future. All he had to do was simply stumble out a greeting and Time’s lovely wife, Malon, was already overjoyed to accept him, especially impressed to realize he shares a similar farming background as herself. From there, the day continues at a relaxed pace that calms Twilight’s internal worries, although the passage of time nor the many chores the boys are offered to keep busy can’t be given too much credit for that.

While it’s nice to see his brothers let loose for a day and enjoy themselves in a more domestic atmosphere than some of them have ever had the delight of knowing, Twilight finds himself glued to your side the most, particularly keen on sharing this moment with you for embarrassing reasons he’d rather keep to secret for now. As far as you should be aware, he’s excited to be meeting the closest blood relatives he’ll ever know (at least for many years to come), not that he’s also giddy that you get to meet them as well.

Twilight’s here to make a good impression with his mentor, although he finds himself inclined to soak up all your reactions to Lon Lon Ranch, in fact, he’s a bit desperate to decipher just how you’d possibly feel about one day living at a place like this yourself. You seemed unfazed by the farm chores and you’ve openly expressed to Malon your jealousy of her peaceful home which is a far cry from life in the city. Perhaps you’re only being a kind guest, although Twilight won’t let go of the idea that you might just be honest with those words, truly desiring a more easy going atmosphere he’ll happily help you build if you’ll allow him.

Although the work has been simple and laidback, you aren’t alone in your tiredness by the time day turns into night. You had been yawning already after dinner, so Twilight’s rather surprised to see you still awake when he returns from his talk with Time, your sudden whispered voice amongst the darkness actually managing to startle him slightly, “You’re back. How’d it go? Was it all you hoped for?”

Tiptoeing around those who have already fallen asleep, Twilight finds his own sleeping back while only sparing a quick, awkward glance in your direction, “Yeah…”

“Oh, come on. What did you guys talk about? Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Nothin’...Nothin’ important.”

Although tucked into his sleeping bag with his back turned towards you, he can hear you sit up straighter and can use his imagination to see your pout, “You seriously think I’d believe that? I’ll find out one way or another, you know. In fact, I’ll start bugging you about it again first thing in the morning, so don’t sleep too comfortably, you hear?”

“Goodnight,” Thank Hylia you have no way of seeing his boyish grin or burning blush given his position and the lack of light. When you huff and lay back down to finally sleep, you allow him to drift back into his thoughts, his mind too awake for rest as he reviews his previous conversation with Time and Malon.

It went well, officially extinguishing his prior worries once and for all. The feeling in Twilight’s chest was indescribable as he listened to their pride in him, something that hit much deeper than any other direct compliments he’s received. 

As the conversation reached its end, he was sure there could be nothing else said to add fuel to those feelings, already feeling light as a feather when Malon awed with a slight giggle, “Oh, and your partner was beautiful. (Y/n), right? I’m afraid we didn’t get too much of a chance to talk today with all the excitement, but we’ll have to sit down for a private chat tomorrow. You know, in-law to in-law?”

“H-Huh? Ah, I-I’m afraid we’re not actually…together like that.”

"You're not? I could've sworn..." Malon had looked to her husband in disbelief, a point where Twilight would’ve expected his mentor to confirm his statement, after all, Time’s been journeying with you both for the last few months, so he should’ve known the truth, however he had instead shrugged with a hand placed on Malon’s shoulder.

"They're in denial still, dear."

"I suppose it runs in the family then for you boys to be easily intimidated,” Malon placed a hand on her hip with a slight shake of her head, “Link - My Link was the same way. Took it him ages to ask me to be his own -"

"- Hey now -"

"- In fact, it was me who had to take that first step,” She then stepped over to take Twilight’s hands, ignoring how bright red and caught off guard he was. Her smile - innocent yet holding a hint of mischief to it - is one he won’t forget anytime soon nor will he forget Time’s smirk in the background, “The way you look at each other doesn’t leave much to question, hon. Clearly you care for (Y/n) and it seems to me the feeling must be very much mutual given how you’ve been trailing each other all day, so try not to concern yourself too much with all those ‘if’s and ‘but’s. The sooner you leap over your nerves, the more time you’ll have to spend together. Hylia knows after everything you boys have been put through, you deserve all the happiness you can soak in.”

“It’s something you’ll regret if you let it slip through your fingers,” Time had added, pulling his wife to his side as they both smiled at each other lovingly.

Even now, their words echo in Twilight’s head and he finds it impossible to close his eyes without seeing you both in a similar position, you pulled to his side with the overwhelming feeling that everything is just right with the world so long as you’re together….‘wouldn’t be a bad thing at all…

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 5

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 5 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

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In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

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Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Most days, Charlie's incessant prattling amused Alastor.  It was one of the few traits they both shared after all; the ability to pick up the threads of dropped conversations and weave them into something new.  Usually a pithy quip on his part while Charlie would provide some long-winded tirade about friendship and optimism; nonsensical sorts of things that Alastor didn’t spare much thought towards. 

Generally, it was an effortless feat for Alastor to redirect Charlie's attention and energy onto something or someone else; goodness knows that the residents of their hotel could generously be described as an absolute mess most of the time.  There was always some sort of disaster brewing that the little Princess couldn't help but insert herself into.  A lovers tiff here, a genocide there, another new guest with an uninspired tale of woe that required comfort and a supportive embrace or two.

But there was a stubborn streak in Charlie today that kept her focus fully on the Overlord.  And while he usually never shied away from being the center of attention, Alastor had to admit that he was beginning to grow increasingly weary of her present line of questioning.

“-so what do you think?  Are you willing to give it a shot?”  Charlie asked, her entire body practically quivering in anticipation for his answer.  

“Hmm?  I'm sorry, I must have drifted off for a moment there. What were you saying?” Alastor apologized, his eyes alight with false sincerity.  

“Oh, come on!  There was no way you tuned out that entire musical number!” Charlie groaned in frustration.  “I hit like, three super high notes!  There was confetti-”

“I was dancin’,” a passing sanitation worker interjected, unceremoniously dumping a bin full of used hypodermic needles into the back of an idling trash truck.  

“-the garbageman was dancing, Alastor!”

“I’m sure it was a most spectacular sight!” Alastor assured him.

“Damn right it was,” the garbage man grumbled under his breath as he hefted a heavily stained mattress into his arms.  

“Okay, just- ugh!” Charlie sighed, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation. “Forget the song-”

“Way ahead of you, my dear!” Alastor grinned, spinning his staff merrily as he set off down the sidewalk, Charlie quickly catching up despite his longer stride.  

“I'm just worried, Alastor.  You haven't really made any effort to open up to anyone at the hotel.”

“Haven't you ever heard the saying about mixing business and pleasure?  I'm merely maintaining a professional demeanor.  I would hate for the sterling reputation of our fine establishment to be tarnished by unprofessionalism!” Alastor explained, wiggling his fingers at a passing sinner who cowered under the oppressive weight of Alastor's fleeting glance.

“See, this is exactly what I mean!” Charlie shouted, frantically waving at all the pedestrians ducking down alleys and darting recklessly into oncoming traffic to avoid having to cross paths with the Radio Demon.  “People are afraid of you, Alastor.”

“As well they should be!  I am an Overlord after all, my dear.  Being terrifying is part of the job description.”

“Yes, I know that!  But the problem is that everyone is afraid of you.”

“Are they now?  I guess most people must be smarter than they look!” Alastor laughed in delight as Charlie's consternation grew. 

“I'm being serious here!  Even the people at the hotel are still…uncomfortable with you,” Charlie offered diplomatically.  “Which isn't what the hotel is supposed to be about.  It's supposed to be a place of friendship and comradery- where people can feel safe enough to open up and be vulnerable.”

Charlie paused in her explanation to gesture to the palpable air of malevolence that radiated from her hotelier.

“And you come off as everything but safe.”

“Oh, stop it!  You're making me blush!” Alastor cooed, lifting a coy hand to cradle his pale cheek.  

“Alastor,” Charlie sighed, quickly shuffling around him on the sidewalk so she could place herself directly in his path, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt and look into her pleading eyes.  “Please.  I need the hotel to be a success.  And I think that's what you want, too.  For whatever reason.”

Alastor was quiet as he examined the determined jut of Charlie's chin, his head tilting slightly to the side in consideration.  “What exactly is it that you require of me?”

“To be friendly.  To honestly try and connect with someone.”

“Shall I braid your hair then?  Gossip with the Effeminate Fellow about boys?”

“Those are both great ideas!  But they…don't really seem like your thing,” Charlie hesitantly admitted.  “Why don't you start out with something you're good at?”

“Torture?” 

“Talking.”

“If you insist,” Alastor sighed.  “But my suggestion would be considerably more entertaining.”

“Hey, you never know where a good conversation might lead!  Just look at me and Vaggie!,” the Princess chirped excitedly, her eyes sparkling in delight at the mere thought of her taciturn partner. “She would barely say two words to me when we met and now we tell each other everything!”

“Ahhh,” Alastor narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  “Is that your angle?  To find me a partner?  A paramour?  To try to soften me up with affection?”

“What?  No, that's not it at all!” Charlie rushed to assure him, her hands flapping wildly in front of her body as though she could physically waft away the misunderstanding.  “I mean, it would be great if you could find someone like that, you know, if- if you wanted to!  It's nice to have someone to care about- to care about you , in that way.”

“Please, do elaborate,” Alastor said, gesturing in front of himself with an exaggerated wave of his hand, encouraging Charlie to continue down the hopelessly cracked and pitted sidewalk towards Cannibal Town. 

“Oh- uhhh,” Charlie sputtered, stumbling over her own legs slightly as she moved to fall into step beside Alastor, her fingers nervously twiddling around each other as she struggled to find the words to explain herself.  “Partners are, well- it's sort of like being friends, but more?  Better, I guess?  You talk with them and spend time with them like friends, but they just-”

Charlie paused, heaving in a deep sigh as she imagined her girlfriend in her mind's eye, and tried to verbalize all the wonderful feelings that Vaggie cultivated in her heart.

“When you see someone you love, your day just instantly brightens.  You get excited thinking about the next time you see them- it feels like a bunch of moths are fluttering around inside of your belly.”

Alastor's upper lip curled up in revulsion.  “And that's a desirable feeling?  Intestinal insects?”

“Well, not when you put it that way,” Charlie huffed, crossing her arms across her chest in frustration.  “It's something you can't really explain unless you've experienced it.”

Alastor was unusually quiet, the ambient humming that surrounded him barely audible as they continued on their way.  For a moment, Charlie worried that she had maybe gone too far; that she had drawn an exclusive circle around herself and her experiences that painted Alastor as even more of an outsider than he already was.  An apology sat perched on her tongue, ready to assure him that it was okay to never have felt these things, when Alastor spoke up.  

“It doesn’t feel like fluttering,” Alastor drawled, his free hand pressed against his abdomen pensively.  “It’s more akin to a gnawing sensation.”  

“Wait-,” Charlie gasped, quickly sucking in a lungful of the humid Hellish air.  “Alastor, is there- is there someone you have feelings for?”

“Upon reflection I do believe there might be, based on your exceptionally vivid description of the experience,” Alastor informed her with an excited grin, pushing open the reinforced glass door of a building and ushering Charlie over the threshold ahead of him with a courteous incline of his head.  

“Ooooohhhhh, Alastor!” Charlie squealed, bouncing on her toes in barely suppressed jubilation as she queued up in the short line in front of the register.  “Who is it?  How long have you known them? Can I meet them?  Do you think they like you back?  Wait- that's too many questions!  I'm sorry!  But I'm just so excited for you!”

“It's fine, my dear!  Perfectly understandable,” Alastor reassured her with an indulgent laugh.  “And of course you can meet them, if that's what you'd like.”

“YES!” Charlie yelled, only realizing how loud she was once all the numerous eyes of both the customers and the walls of the store quickly shifted their focus onto her.  She coughed into her fist and straightened her lapels in embarrassment as she waited for the other customers to lose interest and turn away. “I mean- that is to say, it would be lovely to meet them at your earliest convenience.”

“But of course!” Alastor agreed readily as he stepped with Charlie to the front of the line.  “Here she comes now!”

“Now?” Charlie squawked, spinning around frantically in quick circles to try and catch a glimpse of who in the store Alastor might be referring to.

“Here you are, Alastor, Sir,” you announced with a nervous grin, sliding a large, paper-wrapped parcel across the counter.  “One whole venison round, as requested.”

“Thank you, my dear!” Alastor said as he took hold of the meat, vanishing it to locations unknown with a quick snap of his fingers.  “I was wondering if I might trouble you for a moment longer, though?”

Sweat immediately began to gather at your hairline as you tried to swallow down the bile creeping up your throat.  “Is- is there a problem with your order?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Alastor assured you with a sharp grin that did little to settle your nerves.  “It has recently been brought to my attention that I am enamored with you.”

All sounds inside the butcher shop abruptly halted, like the entire store had been sucked into a vacuum; customer's jaws hanging slack in shock at the unexpected confession. 

“You're what?” You squeak in obvious distress, casting pleading glances at your coworkers who were quietly peeking in  through a slim crack through the backroom door, eager to spy on the unfolding drama.

“Enamored, my dear!  Beguiled!  Infatuated!  Smitten, if you will.”

“You… like me?” You muttered dumbly as your brain struggled to process the bizarre scene you had found yourself thrust into the middle of.  

“Apparently!” Alastor laughed, reaching behind himself to tug his companion to his side.  “See, I was chatting with my associate here, Charlie, the Princess of Hell-”

“Your Grace,” you croak dryly, dropping into what was hopefully a passable curtsy.

“Hey, uh- nice to meet you!” Charlie greeted with a stiff wave and an even stiffer smile. 

“-and she made me realize what my true feelings for you were!  How you make my day better, how I look forward to the next time I see you, how you make my stomach rumble,” Alastor growled lowly, his already towering form seeming to elongate as he loomed over you.

“...It ah- it sounds like maybe you're just… hungry whenever you see me?”

“Perhaps!” Alastor cackled, his staticy laugh even more distorted up close.  “But one man's passion is another man's hunger, as they say!”

“Do they say that?  Is that a thing people say?!” You whispered manically towards Charlie, her shoulders jumping up towards her ears in a helpless shrug.

“Gastrointestinal palpitations aside, you can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow, his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place; afraid that any sudden movement might somehow cause him to pounce. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

“RIGHT, okay!” Charlie interrupted with a nervous laugh, slamming a handful of bills down onto the counter as she managed to mercifully push herself between the Radio Demon and the meat counter.  “So sorry, but we have to go- there's important hotel business we need to get back to!  It was lovely meeting you, have a nice day, BYE!”

You were still staring at the door minutes after Charlie had frantically pulled Alastor out of the store, only snapping out of your daze when your manager shuffled up beside you, nose buried in the employee handbook.  

“I've triple checked and experiencing sudden romantic overtones isn't grounds for taking personal leave,” he explained, pointing to the exact passage in the well-worn guide.  “You're gonna’ have to finish out your shift.”

“Of course,” you replied distantly, unable to meaningfully focus on anything other than your racing thoughts and the strange, muffled ringing in your ears.  “What about if I pass out?”

“Says here you'll get a fifteen minute break and a strong cup of tea.”

“Better put the kettle on then,” you mumbled as your knees buckled, vision going black as you plummeted towards the floor.  Your manager looked down at your crumpled body and sighed, nudging you out of the way with his foot and stepping up to the register.  

“Next in line!”

[layraket]

okay finally the most waited post (of mine (maybe)) since yesterday!!! me rambling in a weird/deep way!!!!

first of all we start strong

the Wolfie thing was something that i've been wondering when will be adressed, and when i read the word "wolf" i got nuts

I felt weird here cuz Four just mentioned Time and himself??? im crackling at Leg's face "my guy you forgot someone" now thinking better abt it Legend didn't tell anyone abt the bunny thing appart of Twi and Sky, so it makes sense they not knowing he already found out

It makes sense that he didn't wanted to show his wolf form to them at the start, he can't just go "hey guys look i can turn into a wolf *cool shadow transformation* AUUUUUUUUUU-" and not freak them out.

and i find a little amusing Wind wanting a confirmation, he wants to make sure that now there's not fractures between each other's trust. They still got their secrets, yeah, but he still wanted to at least hear that theyre cool about this one

Twi almost died, and the only reason that he's still breathing is because of them, obviously he will trust them now.

my poor guy has been working so hard, being the emotional support dog in the group together with big brother duty is exhausting

still makes me laugh that nobody really made 2+2 and realised that it was a little suspicious that every time Wolfie was there Twi was patrolling. They really share the name Link huh

Wolves are beautiful but dangerous animals, they are strong and usually agressive to invasors, makes sense to hide something that makes people run away from you. You might be able to defend them, but they will only pay back with scared glances

ohhh i would really love to see this! Wild already knew Twilight, well, future Twilight. He saw the giant dog wandering around and thought "hey i know him thats the strange wolf! hey hiii buddyyy" this guy really

love them trying to explain time shenanigans. keep it up buddy. you know basic math you can do this.

the rest of them talking abt the wolf thing while here my man fighting with the gps

Wild you already established your point calm down

Something that i and a lot of people noticed: Wars seems more relaxed, the past updates he was at the verge of screaming at the void. Now here he is, bothering his brother. Happy Warriors is back!

See the only thing he needed was his emotional support scarf back

if i had a coin every time a character hide their true identity in the zelda series i would have 16 coins, which is a lot considering that i thought it would be just 5 or 6 times what the hell

oh i know that look. He has already an idea of what wars menat with that, he has already experienced the same situation

Four doesn't fully approve the use of shadow magic yet. He remembers someone that because of that lost himself in the power. What if this happends too with Twi? How will they handle that situation? His mind is already too noisy just with thinking it a little

He hopes they will not have to confront the consecuences of dark magic's abuse

i remember that someone said Wolfie looks weaker, and honestly i agree

im not sure if this is the case, but if it is i wouldn't be surprised. He looks thinner, his fur more tangled and less flat

Still fluffy boy, tho

AND NOW. the panels that made me laugh for some weird reason/i liked a lot without any comments of why

art at its peak as always

(art credits goes towards @linkeduniverse as always!)

[luimagines]

The Chain with a almost god like giant titan like Creature s/o reader.

Sorry that's a mouthful!

Like, they look human but are huge and have different kind of things about them that Hylians don't have. (Also,imagine the heros are so tiny compared to their s/o. Like Sky is like telling the Chain. But their in awe of the enormous creature that sky has been gushing about 10 times a hour.)

Please 🙏

Chain with an eldritch s/o. I dig it. Like that Eldritch Zelda that went around a while back.

It's going to be in headcanon form fyi. I hope that's ok!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Four

If you thought that a typical s/o for the smithy would have made him smaller....

He is dwarfed by comparison

Scorpion legs, mandibles, a spiked tail and as big as a house

Four proudly presents them to the group with the biggest flourished gesture he can do

“And I love them very much.” He says proudly.

The group is all silent

They click their mandibles in nervousness. “Um... So how do you do? Link has told me much about you all in his letters.”

Sky breaks out of it first. “We’re all alright. Four speaks about you a lot as well. e just weren’t anticipating you to be so-”

“Freaky?” They say quietly, causing Four to snap his head in their direction- words of rebuttal already on his tongue.

“Big.” Sky amends. “I was going to say big... Especially when he’s so...”

Four turns back to Sky with a glare. “Say it.”

Sky huff. “Look, Wind is taller than you. I thought it would have been someone I would have been able to look in the eye when you said they were bigger than you.”

Four splutters and tries to think of a comeback

It lessens to tension and Wild and Hyrule both step forward to introduce themselves

Time and Warrior give a small bow in respect

Wind run to try and climb on top of them 

Twilight stops him before he can actually get away with it

Legend has been facepalming the entire time

His hand slides down his face slowly and he cuff Four by the side of his head. “When you say they get hungry easy it’s because you have mint on your porch. It keeps the spiders away-”

“Oh!” They perk up. “Is that why they don’t come by any more? I was wondering why it seemed like there were more bugs than usual. They’re not as filling.”

Legend gives Four a ‘I-Told-You-So’ look

Four says nothing 

Hyrule

He had no problem with it!

“Hey guys! We’re about to meet the sweetest person in this entire planet. I can’t wait for you guys to see them.”

“Slow down Traveler.” Legend laughs. “We don’t know this place as well as you do- we might not be able to keep up.”

“Honey?” A voice speaks. It’s quiet and surreal- like multiple voices speaking at once. “Is that you?”

Traveler beams. “It’s me! I’m home! Come meet my friends!”

They step out. Multiple eyes blink slowly and feathered hands come in front of them in a nervous manner. They are giant.

Legend pauses. Where would he have seen this creature before? If he has anyway...

Sky smiles pleasantly and walks up slowly. “Hello there. Link’s told us a lot about you.”

Hyrule coughs. He didn’t. He doesn’t know why Sky is lying.

Time steps forward as well. “Good to meet you. I was wondering who was taking good care of him back home.”

Hyrule flushes. This isn’t what he was expecting.

“You know what...” Wild sighs. “I can’t even say I’m surprised. Call me Wild. We’re all friends of your Link.”

They smile. “Yes... My Link... Has he been behaving himself?”

Four nods. “Yup! He’s been a great help to all of us.”

Wind and Warrior both come up next to the hero in question and clap him on the shoulders. “We adore him.”

His partner smiles gently. “We share the same sentiment then.”

Twilight hasn’t said much but he stares at Hyrule with the stare of a thousand suns.

Hyrule clears his throat and tries to ease his embarrassment. “My home is nearby. We can all go there before the storm hits.”

They nod and reach their hand out.

Hyrule takes it without hesitation.

“Let’s go then.”

Legend

Legend was a bit nervous to introduce his s/o

They were huge

With multiple arms and multiple pairs of eyes

But they were so cute

Ignoring they were twice the size of a hinox

His hinox’ anyway

Wild’s are the largest he’s ever seen

Twilight sighs exasperatedly

“Spiders again”

Legend bites his lip

Wild and Four stare, wide eyed, jaw agape and say nothing

Hyrule is instead staring at Legend and Legend doesn’t know what to make of it

Time bites the bullet and holds out his hand

Warrior and Wild follow suit without question

They all shakes hands at the same time

“Hello” They say

Sky waves with a smile

“Thank you for looking after Link.” They say softly

Legend blushes and playfully swipes at them, only annoyed at the surface

“Hey-!... I can take care of myself. ...You know that.”

“Hmm... I feel better... knowing you’re not alone anymore.”

Everyone jumps on to let them know everything is ok

Legend sighs in relief

That... went a bit better than he thought it would

Sky

A bit nervous

But mostly because he doesn’t want anyone to say anything mean

If they do, he’s throwing hands

He’s done it before he’ll do it again

“Ok, Beloved... You can come out now.” He says softly.

They step out in all their ethereal glory

There’s the size of the two story house with wings and glowing silver eyes

There’s red and blue markings on their face

Time is getting flashbacks

Warrior is also having flashbacks

Twilight is watching Time and Warrior with interest 

Wild and Legend share and look

Sudden dread and uncertainty over take them

Hyrule marches right up and sticks his hand out. “Hi.”

They smiles and shake it. “How do you do?”

Wind tilts his head. “How do you do what?”

Four shrugs and also goes to introduce himself. “Sky won’t shut up about you. You’re just as impressive as he said.”

They actually flush a little and look away. “He’s always talked a bit more than he knows what to do with. I’m sure he exaggerated a lot of things.”

Legend coughs. “I’d argue he understated a lot of things.”

Sky deadpans. “Gee, I wonder why.”

They laugh like church bells. “I can see why Link likes you all so much. Would you like a tour?”

Time

No longer cares about other people’s opinion

It’s not the boys believed him in other thing that he’s told them

So he’s kept this one close to his chest

He opens the doors to his home where you’re waiting in the living room

Time has also long given up on asking how you fit through the door

Four’s and Wild’s jaws hang wide open

Twilight actually trips over himself and falls backwards

This explains some things...but now he just has more questions

Like.. why the third eye? or the wings? and scales? and clubbed tail?

“Uh... Old Man...?”

“Oh it’s you! My boy!” They cry. “I know my babies where ever they are! I didn’t think you were serious dear!”

Time takes offense

“I told you. Of all things, this is the one you don’t believe?”

Cue Sky and Warrior looking between Twilight and Time, putting the pieces together but only becoming more confused in the process.

Legend sighs and flops in on himself.

“This might as well happen.”

Hyrule slaps him over the head

Sky bite his lip and waves a bit

He chuckles a bit out of nervousness

“We’ve heard... about you..”

“Have you?” They lean in

“Technically?”

They laugh

“It’s ok. Link doesn’t want any undue harm to come my way. He’s very protective like that. Come in! Come in! I’ll make some tea.”

Twilight

Just like how he was nervous to show his form as Wolfie, he’s actively trying to lighten the blow when the group meets his s/o

“Ok, so just so you guys know, they’re... bigger than normal... and may not be what you’re expecting.”

“Should we be scared?” Legend raises an eyebrow.

Twilight winces. “Well I would rather you not be. It would be a bit rude even if you can’t help it.” 

Time puts his hand hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “If they’re important to you, we’ll be on our best behavior. Isn’t that right boys?”

Wild grins and gives a salute.

Warrior smirks and nods.

“Who’s important to Link?” A new voice says.

All heads snap in that direction

Large antlers and fangs, scales and tethers and a few feathers coat their body

Wind and Sky stare wide eyed

Hyrule blinks and punches Legend

“Oh my..” They say

“Pleasure to meet you!” Four gathers his wits first, hand already out to shake. “Your Link has talked a lot about you. All good things.”

They flush in a way that looks abnormal. “Oh... Oh my goodness- Ok. He always does this. I’m sorry if I’m not exactly what you were expecting.”

“Nothing could have prepared us for this.” Legend blurts

Hyrule glares at him

Legend flinches away

Twilight coughs. “Guy this is __”

They wave. “...Nice to meet you.”

Time bites his lip for a moment, letting it process before he gestures to Wild. “We brought lunch if you’re willing to join us.”

“Well that sounds lovely!”

Warrior

Warrior was practically avoiding it

Like bits and pieces, he would reveal

But never about their physical appearance

So when They finally appear with antlers, wings, and fur

Warrior waits with baited breath

Time sends Warrior a knowing look that he knows he’ll pay for later

Wild is the first to say something as he eagerly introduces himself

Twilight follows suit with Wind right on his metaphorical tail

Hyrule approaches hesitantly but is polite none the less

Sky stays a bit behind as Time goes in to say hello again

Four and Legend feel like they’re seen weirder and Warrior speaks well of them enough

“Hello again Little one.” They say patting Time on the head

“Not so little anymore.”

“Still little to me.”

“So how did you and Warrior meet?” Legend cocks a hip, eyebrow raised and all.

They smile, showing their multiple canines. “He shot me.”

“I told you, I’m sorry!” Warrior groans. “That’s not exactly what happened anyway.”

They giggle. “They call you Warrior now? I wasn’t aware your war merits carried over through time.”

“It’s... not that necessarily.” He blushes.

“He’s also called the Captain.” Wind raises his hand, thinking that it would to catch their attention.

“...Strange... That’s not his position here.”

“HO-KAY! Introductions are over! Who wants lunch?” Warrior yells louder than he needs to.

His S/O is going to embarrass him badly before he leaves

That’s the plan

Wild

He sees nothing with it

He doesn’t even think that it would register as strange to the others

“Link?” They call out. “Oh Link you’re back! Thank goodness you’re alright!”

Wild perks up and snaps his head in the direction of the voice.

He runs to them

The others pause and watch

They come out and pick Wild up as if he was only a bag of grapes

“Oh , I was so worried about you! Have you been taking care of yourself like you promise? I thought you would have been away for longer.”

Wild laugh and kisses them on their nose. “I’ve been just fine. I want you to meet my new friends.”

Twilight coughs and catches their attention. He waves.

“Oh!” Their second pair of arms comes up to cover their mouth. “Oh how rude of me. How do you do?”

Legend blinks. “How do you do what?”

They giggle. It sounds like thunder and their tail flickers playfully behind them.

They set Wild down. “How are you?”

“Fantastic, all things considered.” Warrior has to crane his neck up just to look at their face. “How did you and Champion meet?”

“Oh that’s a long story-”

“Let’s go in side first.” Wild interjects, a wide smile on his face. “I can start lunch and we can all get comfortable in the living room, yeah?”

Time seems amused, if a bit perplex. “Of course, Cub. Lead the way.”

“Cub?” They turn to Wild. “That’s precious.”

“Let’s gooo...” Wild coughs. His cheeks are a but pink.

From the looks of Four, Hyrule and Wind.... they’re never going to let him live that down.

Wind 

(Not really s/o... more like best friend... maybe when they’re older but as it stands-)

Wind was going to blow their mind

His surprise is probably going to get him serious street cred

He was going to introduce them to every one and he was going to get all their reactions saved in his pictobox!

Wind stands in front of everyone, pictobox ready and tells you to come say hi

Longer than normal arms, thirty fingers, sunken eyes and moss for hair- and tall

Wind snaps the picture of his buddies

They’re going to love this later on

They already giggle and wave

Wild, Hyrule and Legend numbly wave back

“Hello!” You grin.

Time sits down

Wind grins as well and jumps onto their arm

He climbs up

“This is my friend! The one I was telling you guys about!” He says proudly. “Aren’t they cool?”

“...Very cool Sailor...” Warrior cranes his head up.

“Um.... So... how have you been?” Four tries for normal conversation. 

He tries the old friend approach.

“Oh you knooww~~ Burrowing in the sand, taking in the sun, dragging sailors underwater, having tea parties with the locals. Same old, same old.”

“What was that one you just said?”

“Taking in the sun?”

“After that.”

“The tea parties? Oh! We should have one! I was about to have lunch anyway. Why don’t you call come over? Since you’re friends with Link, we can be friends too.”

Twilight smiles tensely. “...Sure... We’d love to.”

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Recollection of her Eternity.

Summary : Ei`s last meeting with her beloved Miko.

Notes : Fluff? God save me from tagging, it's been some time since Inazume so please bear with me, dancing, kissing, dancing and kissing in rain, a bit sad

Words : 1,303

Link to AO3

The Raiden Shogun climbed the stony stairs up to the holy shrine, her mind having wandered off some time ago. The black kimono fell heavy from her body and the piece was so tightly bound, she could barely breath. Dark blue clouds had fallen over Inazuma and one could hear thunder in the distance. What a perfect weather.

Today she'd see Miko for the last time for a long time, she won't be happy once she finds out, but it was for the best, they are eternal. She remembered Makoto and it felt like a knife was twisted, her and Miko are eternal.

The wind blew her long loose hair around. She'd have to braid it, fingers moving like silk between the strands. She breathed. Breath Ei, breath.

She reached the top of the stairs and...no one was there. Her face creased like knifes were drawing over it, before relaxing again. Perhabs this was best, even if it was odd. She was scared that Miko was busy somewhere else for a moment, having come for nothing, emaculate planning being thrown into the gutter. Her body continued to carry her forward as the wind battled with her. Her hands hid in her sleeves as her eyes mustered the place. It had never changed, really, the wood was always the same, the color of red, the Sakura tree. It had been here always. She lifted her head to look at it, it's branches lifting towards the sky with the pink pedals that covered the heavens, she had always felt a strange attachment to it.

Breathing, hot air hit her neck. She jumped back, setting on to pull a dagger from her sleeve, before she saw Miko with lifted arms, standing rigth there with her Sakura hair and foxy grin.

"Cheeky Kitsune, you should know better than to spook a god like that." Ei warned as she calmed her body language and sorted the knife back into its rigthfull place.

Miko had her eyes wander over the archon as she drew circles around her. "Why so gloomy? Has someone died?"

She hissed. "This is no laughing matter, Miko."

Miko shock her head as she tsk'd Ei out.

"It is what they say...don't you think walking around like that is quite suspicious?"

She felt rain trickling down, soft drops soaking into the very kimono Miko was talking about.

"Leave it, Miko." She warned, casting her gaze towards hers. Her head was resting on Ei's shoulder, her arms around her waist. She couldn't help but lean into her familiar touch.

"Missed me?"

She was meet with silence.

"You were all cooped up in that workshop of yours. What were you expecting from me? I still can't believe you turned me away."

Ei grinned. "Are you jealous of the attention towards my creations now?"

A lighthearted laugh left the Kitsune as she moved towards one of the smaller shrines, into its protection. "Oh, now don't be silly!" She picked up a cup, a small spoon in it. "Even if it would fit towards your behavior, a hen sitting upon her eggs, brooding." Her eyes turn dark. "Or are you perhabs the chick, hiding in the protection underneath its mothers feathery comfort?"

Ei stood in the rain, hair clinging to her temples as Miko chuckled. She huffed. "What are you eating?" She followed her companions path, taking a closer look at the substance.

The maiden turned away. "Just some ice cream...with dango taste."

Ei straightened up. "Really now?"

The rain still reached them as they hid under the roof of the holy sanctuary where maidens were usually scuring about. Their clothes slowly getting soaked, their hair clinging. "Don't you think it's to cold? Don't you think you should share?"

Miko giggled. A sweet, albeit dark sound. "Ask nicely?"

Ei furrowed her brows, but the phantom taste of dango was already spreading in her mouth, seducing her. "Vixen..." she mumbled under her breath, shoving her shame away.

"Please share your ice-cream with me?"

A now satisfied Miko sticked her finger into it, before leading it in front of her Archons mouth. She stared at it for a while, a crease between her eyebrows.

"It tastes better this way." Her familiar argued, seizing her reaction. Ei looked around before wrapping her lips around it, her tounge licking the sweetness of off Mikos finger before parting, she made very sure to get it all.

"Very good indeed." She meant to see a flush in Mikos face, before her grin re-appeared and before she cleaned the finger on Ei's black cloth. The Archon frowned, before facing back to the rain that came in ligth drops, enough to make one uncomfortable, enough to wet you to the bone, but with Miko? The wetness didn't feel bad. Nothing was bad with Miko. Ei's shoulders dropped, as if she was at ease. This she'd miss. She didn't know how her next thougth formed, less than why she vocalized it. "I've never danced in the rain before."

Mikos head snatched to Ei, who stared into the heavens. The spoon was hanging from her mouth, her fingers curling around it "I never knew you were such a romantic, my dear Ei~"

"I'm not" but Makoto was. She left her unfinished sentence hanging in the air, having a shift appear in Mikos gaze. If Ei didn't knew the Kitsune better, she'd say it was pity. But Miko never pitied her, and perhabs Ei was grateful for that. "I just wish I had."

Miko looked at her, as she looked at the darkened sky. Then she sighed, moving back to the court. Ei watched her. Watched her as she stood there, watched her as she stretched out her hand. "Ei. Do you want to dance in the rain with me?" She said in a sigh. It made Ei smile, take the offered hand.

"With pleasure." The Kitsune helped her down the stairs and they adjusted their poses.

"Not like this..." Ei scolded as Mikos hands landed on her shoulder, she adjusted, taking one of her hands, while putting her own on the others waist.

Miko snorted. "Like the west?"

Ei nodded. "I like it."

Miko grinned, finding yet another way to tease Ei. Ei shock her head, moving them as the cold seeped into their bones, it was just not that Ei noticed, her heart was to warm for it, to warm as she watched Miko smile, as she twirled her, as they moved on the grounds, their bodies flush against eachother. "I will admit, it is enjoyable." Miko said, looking up.

Ei released her hand, to instead push some of the pink hair away. Her purple eyes followed, followed as she pushed, followed as her hand stayed. "Miko..." she whispered, her eyes moving to her lips.

"Ei?"

She stayed there, looking, then she leaned in, her eyes on Mikos, asking for permission. She saw a shyness, before the Kitsune, too, leaned in. Ei took the opportunity, pressing their lips together. She was all to aware of her hand placement all of a sudden, of Mikos hand that traveled to her hair, the other that tugged her closer, she fully wrapped her hand around the Kitsunes mid-section, pulling her so very close. The rain didn't stop pouring, it may have even gotten stronger.

This is eternity.

They parted on account of their lungs, their chests heaving. Miko looked up at her God. "You are weird today."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

She pulled her back into the dance before she could say more. She moved her along the stone, the greenery under the sacred Sakura, it didn't matter to her when the other Shrine maidens came back or when their whispers were carried forth by the wind, this was Miko. And Miko is Eternity now.

[cookies-over-yonder]

they hate my disabled demonic swag

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Being a cane user in high school, Taylor's gotten some... interesting comments, but it hasn't come up in a while, so when it does, well... It pisses him off.

Part 18 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

ao3

There are many things that are different about attending Teen High now that everything is over, but to Taylor's misfortune, some things remain the same.

Taylor is standing against the wall at the cafeteria waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary to meet up with him for lunch. He's always the first there, since his class ends a little earlier than theirs.

The Path of the Wind is playing in his headphones while he waits. It's calming, and reminds him of the catbus. Ah, he misses it… hopefully it's doing well.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he flinches, then slides his headphones off to see who's there.

It's not a friend, it's a teacher—no, an educational assistant. They usually help disabled kids in their classes.

"Taylor?" they ask, and their voice sounds familiar. There's a chance they worked at Taylor's elementary school before, because why else would they recognize him? Taylor's blanking on the name though, not that it really matters—why are they talking to him anyway?

"Um. In the flesh," he says, not with his usual boldness, because he still isn't sure why he's being spoken to.

"Why do you have a cane?"

…

…

Huh?

"Uh, 'cause I have chronic pain," Taylor answers, and the words are dry on his tongue. It's not the first time, but it's been a while.

"Oh, what kind of pain? Where is it?" they ask, leaning in too close, and looking at him in such an invasive way as if trying to formulate a diagnosis right then and there.

"My limbs and my back?"

It's not a question, but it comes out like one anyway because why are they asking him this —

"You know, I know someone else who…"

The rest of their words all blend together to Taylor. Something about 'oh I wonder if it's this' and 'you should try exercising more' and oh, his nails are definitely digging into his palms now, and where the fuck is the escape from this conversation—

"Ah, well, I'm sorry, you poor thing," they say, rubbing his arm, and a split-second later, when Taylor pulls away, a frown forms on their face. It's not unlike the expression he's gotten from teachers in the past, but this one makes him feel violent.

And then they walk away. And Taylor lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Jesus fucking christ.

"Taylor!" Normal calls, he's with Link and Scary, and soon they're all right by him discussing whether to buy food from the caf or share Link's packed lunch like yesterday.

"Hey, you okay?" Link asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. The touch feels like whatever the opposite of icky is. Nice, probably. Calming.

"I'm good, just…" Taylor glances around. The interrogator is still there, wandering around tables. Probably not within earshot, but still. "I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay," Link says, moving his arm to wrap around Taylor's shoulders while they walk to find a vacant table.

Taylor's breathing is heavy with frustration, but he makes an effort to steady it lest it progress into something worse.

✿

When Taylor gets home, Hermie isn't on the first floor. They're probably in their room?

Taylor needs to tell them about today. He didn't get a chance to relay the whole story to Link earlier and he feels he might explode, or start biting things—probably start biting things, actually—if he doesn't get the chance to complain.

Taylor runs up the stairs and knocks on the door. "Hermie!"

" Whaaat. "

Taylor opens the door. Hermie is half-sitting half-lying on their bed with their arms crossed over their chest, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

"Thank you for being normal," Taylor says, closing the door.

"I'm Hermie," they say, closing their eyes.

"No—no, I mean—thank you for being normal about me having a cane ."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"What happened?" Hermie asks, crossing their legs and sitting up at attention.

"Okay, I was waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary in the caf and then some random person approached me," Taylor starts, pacing back and forth beside Hermie's bed.

"Student?" Hermie asks, narrowing their eyes. They tilt their head as they continue to watch Taylor, as if weighing some options Taylor isn’t privy to.  

"No."

"Okay.”

They sound a bit disappointed, but Taylor decides not to question it, caught up as he is in his own frustration.

"It was an educational assistant that I think I recognized from elementary school? I'm not sure. I don't fucking know—just—they came up to me out of nowhere and asked me why I have a cane, and I was like 'cause I have chronic pain, but then they kept asking fucking questions!" Taylor throws his free hand in the air and sucks in a breath before continuing.

"Like—like they asked where the pain is, and what do I even say to that? 'Oh, yeah, it's fucking everywhere'!? And, oh my god, Hermie, they started trying to fucking—fucking figure out what it is. Last I checked that wasn't anyone else's fucking business? And I—I just stood there being inspected , I'm fucking— ugh! "

Taylor can feel his nails dig into his palm again, but god, his head is on fire right now.

"And you know what happened next? You know what they said? 'You poor thing.' "

Hermie scoffs, but Taylor can tell the anger isn’t directed at him. They do seem angry though, and Taylor feels a little vindicated by that reaction. Not enough to do much about his own anger, though.

"They said they're sorry . Sorry? I was just minding my own business, vibing , mind you, to my music while waiting for my friends and they think they can just randomly approach me like that? What the actual fuck!?"

“That’s fucked,” Hermie says helpfully, patting the bed beside them.

Taylor doesn’t really want to sit down, still vibrating with frustration, but it’s probably best if he does. He falls backwards onto their bed, grabbing a pillow and putting it over his face to muffle a frustrated yell. Hermie pats his leg comfortingly.

“Get that pillow off your face before you suffocate. Deep breaths, Taylor.”

There’s a brief flash of instinctual anger, don’t tell me to calm down, I’m angry and I have the right to be, but he knows Hermie is right. He throws the pillow to the side, and takes a sharp breath in—drawing the heels of his hands to dig into his shut eyes and clawing at his hair with his nails—and lets it out as another frustrated groan.

Hermie waits for him to calm down some before continuing.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that your anger is justified, so let’s just skip over that part,” Hermie starts, and their own tone is a bit tense as well, their tail tapping a frustrated rhythm against the mattress between them. “I think next time someone asks, you should tell them to fuck off. Or, I suppose, if it’s an EA that could get you in trouble, you can just tell them you need it, no explanation necessary. If they continue to press it, I think you could hardly be blamed for resorting to violence.”

Taylor brings his hands down from his face, and something about the frustration in Hermie's tone in Taylor's honour paired with the advice makes him, despite the heat of anger still coursing through him, crack a small smile. "Are you saying I should attack them?"

“I would never say that,” Hermie says, faux-offended with a hand dramatically placed over their chest. “I’m just saying, you have a weapon,” they gesture at his cane, “and if you did, you could hardly be blamed… and I’m sure the others would cover for you.”

The adrenaline rush has mostly dissipated, which means Taylor is left to feel the aches all over his body. It always worsens when he gets riled up. Attacking people being intrusive does seem like it'd be rather satisfying. "You really think I could get away with… nah, I can't do that." Taylor chuckles. "Sounds fun though. Oh, but I will definitely be telling people to fuck off," he says, stretching his arms out and flipping off the ceiling, and then he shouts: " Fuck you! "

“That’s the spirit,” Hermie says with a small, satisfied smile. “And if anyone really gives you trouble for it, I’m sure Chaparral wouldn’t miss me if I skipped a day to join you at Teen High instead. You might be above resorting to violence, but I am not.”

Taylor bites his lip, but he's grinning even harder. There's something about Hermie threatening violence for Taylor that makes him giddy.

And grateful.

He brings his arms back down—they're aching even more from being thrown up like that but whatever, it was worth it—and he rests one hand on his chest. He extends the other out toward Hermie and wiggles his fingers a little.

Hermie eyes his hand suspiciously for a moment, glancing from it to his face and back, before cautiously placing their hand in Taylor’s as if expecting a trap. They don’t seem too genuinely worried though, eyes still amused even if they’re not smiling anymore.

Taylor tightens his grip on Hermie's hand. It's warm and sweaty and reassuring. Then his eyes fall shut.

It’s quiet for a while, before Hermie lets out a long sigh and squeezes Taylor’s hand.

“Alright, come on, you don’t want to fall asleep like that,” Hermie says, tugging at his hand gently as they return their pillows to their rightful places and gesture for Taylor to lay down beside them.

Taylor does so, and he curls up against Hermie with their hands still interlocked. His head is on their chest, and Hermie is warm, and so is Taylor; they both tend to run hot, which doesn't seem like it'd be great on paper, but in actuality, it's quite comforting.

The rise and fall of Hermie’s chest is slow and even, and Taylor’s eyes quickly fall shut again. The last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is Hermie’s tail curling protectively around him. 

[fumikomiyasaki]

Happy Late Birthday @cynthinesia

_____________________

The thin light of the sun snuck through the window curtains... as Renée could hear a faint knock at her door... this early... calmly she rubbed her eyes to grow awake... she expected more Carol to wake her given she was one of the few who were up this early... but was surprised that instead of the early bird tutor she found someone else waiting at the door step... it was Louis, holding a bigger rose bouquet and a small gift box... his outfit was a little different from the usual servant wear... her face lit up just seeing here.

"Happy birthday! I wanted to be the first to tell you. Do you still want to sleep on or can I take you along somewhere right now?"

"Louis..."

He was surprised by the sudden hug he was greeted by but calmly pulled her close kissing her forehead...

"I will get changed and then let's go."

After handing her the roses and changing into something more casual the two linked arms as he took her along outside...

"About this box?"

"I will give you your gift once we arrive at the place. Be a little patient. Don't worry Carol and I planned this so she will keep the other Ramshackle members occupied till you are back."

She leaned her head a little against his arm with a smile... the warmth of the sun... the warmth of his body... they made the morning cold so much easier to endure... eventually as they walked across a hill however a gasp escaped her... entering a little forresr area there was a small spot of sun... and among it a small bed of flowers... it seemed almost magical to be there.

"You know how there is this one secret place you usually wouldn't share with anyone...Renée... my little beet... I did wanted to share this with you so it could be our little secret place."

Even his face turned a little red as he held her hand and handed her the box with the other... pulling her in a hug as she leaned into it. The flower petals carried by the wind were almost catched by her hair giving away how happy she just was being with him here...

"Thank you Louis... But... let me open your gift too... even if after this I don't know if you even needed it."

"You will like it, trust me, my dear."

She hesitantly opened the box just to be stun again... a small golden bracelet of a sun... but the embroidery was like it was connectable to something as she noticed Louis arm who had one in moon shaped...

"I want our lives to stay connected to another... so like Sun and moon... we will belong together..."

She put on that bracelet and linked it with his... smiling softly at him... before the two linked fingers and shared a sweet tender kiss... if this was just the beginning of.her birthday... nothing could top this moment already... just to be with him made her feel the happiest..

"I am sorry to steal your time... we should probably go back to what the others prepared-"

"Wait... can we stay a little longer? Just the two of us?"

"Of course. Oh and I did actually ask my dorm if I can have a day off so I will be there this whole day for you."

The two leaned close... noses touching... it did feel a little like a dream... one she didn't want to wake up from.

________________________________

[bomberqueen17]

hiya; small question/request/idea to run by you. are you okay with people publishing fics with your OCs/in the universe of Meet Death sitting? Its a little bit of a personal failing of mine, but I can't easily imagine non-romantic close love, and so the recent drabbles you did around Lu/Morvran/Ciri got me thinking abt how that triangle could end up fully linked up. And now the idea of trans!Morvran is fully lodged in my head, and I'm intrigued to explore it.

Oh this is funny, just today I was having a conversation about how I keep meaning to put one of those transformative works whatsit statements on my AO3 profile and I keep forgetting. A friend advised I just use the CC BY-NC license and while that’s basically the gist of what I want [you may share and adapt this material, you must provide credit and indicate where alterations were made, you may not use it for commercial purposes], I want to be a little more specific/ talk about why and what that means to me.

Because of course, this is transformative work, it would be ridiculous of me to tell people not to continue to transform it, to use it as they will-- I don’t think I could stop anyone from doing so, nor would I want to-- but what I worry about is that things I made up will wind up getting muddled with canon. It sounds arrogant to say that, but I’ve written a lot in this fandom and there’s a lot of stuff I just plain made up because canon didn’t go where I wanted. And what I worry about is some poor sap reading the books and writing a fic and posting it and they get a comment about “where’s X?!” where X is something I made up, that there’s no reason they should know about, nor should they be expected to. 

So of course you can use my OCs, you can use my headcanons, you can build on things I’ve built, that’s perfectly fine! All I ask is, please try to make a note somewhere of things that came from me, link back to that source, not entirely because they’re my babies etc. but more because it makes me uncomfortable to think of some poor newbie to the fandom not understanding what the heck you’re talking about. 

Also I would love it if you told me how you used my lil guys, but that’s just because I like hearing about their continuing adventures. 

More specifically to answer your specific ask, I admit I myself am preoccupied with wider definitions of love than the limited sort we usually get in fiction-- platonic love, familial love, companionship-love-- but I too tend to kind of, ha, default to sexual relationships, so I feel you there. Like IRL not so much but in fiction it’s just so juicy to use sex to explore all these things. Anyway, also, I have a lot of complicated gender feels about Morvran too that I think I am only going to explore to a fairly limited extent in this series but-- do know that I’ve had at least one other person writing me with trans!Morvran headcanons too, that’s definitely something that resonates. I don’t plan to trans his gender entirely (there’s a storyline where… well, we’ll see how far I get) but I absolutely see how someone would want to and I can entirely condone that-- but, to be perfectly clear, as outlined above, even if I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t feel it’s my place to tell you not to. However, irrelevant as my approval may be, I super approve, please do keep me posted. 

[lokinightfury]

Weekend WIP

I was tagged by @justhere4thevibez to show some of the stuff I've worked on recently (I've bent the seven day rule because I've not done a lot in the last week because of some life stuff happening)

Reblog this with up to five current WIPs

after you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. you must then write 3 sentences in that file. if the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

I have two main WIPs at the moment:

This IS Music

“For someone who claims not to give a shit about what people think you can’t bear the thought of your fans finding out you’re working with me, can you? It doesn’t take much, Dustin is linked to you, and now he’s been photographed with me. Hell, this is your main studio you work from. That’s what you’re actually worried about, right?” “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” “Do I? Because that’s how it seems. God forbid that Eddie Munson is seen dead with a corporate sellout like me.” She knows she should stop, but she’s on a roll now, and the words just keep flowing. “You’ve never had to work for this, and now you do. It's killing you that good luck alone isn’t going to be enough. I bet you never had to work for anything in your life.” “Here we go again, spouting the same bullshit, thinking you know everything about me Princess. Yeah. We got lucky and got our break, but don’t think for a second we didn’t work hard to get there.”   Corroded Coffin had lived every kid's dream, their first set of gigs in the nearest big city to the middle of nowhere town they had grown up in got the attention of all the right people, and they quickly had a record deal and a platinum selling debut album. He hadn’t slogged and played to venues of five drunks, or battled for spots at open mic nights desperate to get his songs heard, to give them a chance with anybody else just to let people hear his music like she'd had to.

“You signed three months out of high school, don’t pretend you know what working hard for something looks like.” She scoffs at him, staring him down, daring him to retort. “Oh and you would? With your perfect picket fence family life? I bet you were even a cheerleader, weren’t you?”

Speak Now (which isn't published anywhere yet)

The sun slowly sets, the inky blues of the night sky chasing it down on its journey under the horizon. In a few minutes the first stars will start to show, glinting through the inky blues above the van. This is one of her favorite places to be, lying on top of Eddie’s van, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Her mom thinks she’s with Nancy, the Wheeler’s reputation giving her the easiest of alibis. Telling the truth about where she is, and more importantly who she’s with, doesn’t even come into consideration as an option.  A puff of smoke rises up above them, and she turns to look at Eddie. He’s lying on his back, already thoroughly relaxed, one palm tucked under his head while his free arm holds aloft a freshly lit joint. He offers it across to her, but she shakes her head in reply. Maybe later on, once she starts to feel the temperature drop and needs something to distract her from the cold. For now, being here, hidden away from prying eyes, free to be the person she can only be without the weight of expectation that usually crushes down on her shoulders is enough of an escape.  She sighs as she settles back, wriggling down into the blanket he laid across her half of the roof once they had climbed up here. School was winding down for the year, but the thought of the weekend ahead is still a relief. “Big plans for the weekend, Cunningham?” “Prom dress shopping.” For most other girls, this phrase would be one uttered with excitement, but for Chrissy it’s practically through gritted teeth. She doesn’t need to explain why to Eddie. He knows what her Mom can be like.  He doesn’t reply immediately, just holding the joint across to her with a tone of commiseration. This time she accepts it, pulling the acrid smoke down into her lungs and holding it before passing it back to him. She exhales deliberately, watching the smoke drift up and away from them, dissolving into the sky. The psychological warfare of trying to pick a dress that’s simultaneously acceptable for her Mom, something she would want to wear and actually in her size rather than two sizes too small for her to ‘have an incentive to get trim’ is something that can only be made to feel better with the soft buzz that Eddie’s weed brings her.

I'm going to tag (with no obligation at all) @jenniebellie @hangon-silvergirl @immortalecstasy-blog

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date.            or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact.  a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels​ for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3  +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot. 

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

[goldengoddess]

it looks better on you - nikolai lantsov

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader 

request: Hiii! I recently discovered your blog and I love everything you write, your Nikolai content deserves so much love (as does everything else)!But speaking of that cheeky bastard, would you be up for writing headcannons or in a style you’re comfortable with about Nikolai (Strumhond in this case) where reader is new to the job and packs light and forgets a coat, but Tamar tricks them into wearing Strumhond’s coat (being oblivious that it’s his) and Strumhond makes a sarcastic comment but in the end is fine with it? Don’t worry about if you’re busy - it just came to mind! ❤️

a/n: thank you sweet thing! i love my baby nikolai,,, this is so cute by the way i love the concept so much 

warnings: cursing, suggestive comments

you could not have been so stupid. 

it was your first week on this job. you were new to the crew of this ship, and you had done everything right up until that point. you wanted to make the best impression possible. strumhond’s crew was legendary. there wasn’t a single sailor on the seas that didn’t know his name.

and you, of all people, had been lucky enough to be chosen to help his crew. if you proved yourself, you hoped, you could get an actual permanent job with the crew. 

but of course that wasn’t going to happen, because you were going to freeze your ass off before you even got the chance to do anything useful.

your inability to think ahead had caused you to forget to bring a warm coat. most days at sea were warm, sometimes too warm, with the sun hitting your face and body at every angle.

but there were days like this one where the winds were too rough and the air to cold, and every part of your body felt like it could fall off due to frost bite.

you searched the deck of the ship around you, hoping to find a spare coat, but mostly to make sure that the captain of the ship didn’t see you freezing in the corner.

you’d seen him a couple of times in the last couple of days. usually giving an order or messing around with the closest of his friends on the ship.

he was cute, you couldn’t deny it. at a distance there was nothing wrong. but closer up it was easier to see that there were parts of his face that seemed.. wrong. you’d been around long enough to know a tailored face when you saw one.

you tried not to linger on the reasonings for his tailored face, it wasn’t your business and it didn’t change his ability to lead a crew. despite that, you couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like for real. he had this royal presence to him.

even though he was a pirate, sorry, a privateer, he knew how to hold command. how to get people to listen when they didn’t want to. to make deals and compromises whenever a fight broke out. to leave both sides satisfied. he was like a prince at sea.

okay so maybe the prince had caught your attention more than you wanted to admit.

but it was hard not to be interested in him when every time he made eye contact with you it felt so intense that your knees felt weak.

the sudden gust of cold air snapped your thoughts back to the reality of your situation. your arms were wrapped around your body, as if this position could make the light jacket you had on suddenly sufficient against the cold.

you saw tamar walk onto the deck from below deck. she turned and saw you huddled near the wall. you gave her a sheepish and embarrassed grin. tamar had been the first person to speak to you and though you’d only known her a couple of days, you knew she was the kind of person one trusted.

she walked over to you with an amused smile. you could practically feel the teasing retort that was about to come out of her mouth.

“you look a little warm y/n, you sure you don’t want to take off your jacket.” she sarcastically said, her grin growing on her face.

you rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed huff, “if i die from hypothermia i’m going to make sure to haunt you.”

she let out a throaty laugh. “good, i happen to like your company. you can help me scare the shit out of tolya. he could use a ghost visit.”

the two of you shared a laugh and then you looked at her with slightly sweet puppy eyes. “tamar, please please tell me you have a coat. i stupidly forgot to pack one, trying to keep my bag light.”

she nodded her head at you, “yeah i’ve noticed.” she thought for a moment and then her face broke out into a mischievous smirk. “well i don’t have a coat to lend you but i know someone who has a spare.”

you nodded your head rapidly with enthusiasm. “saints, yes. i won’t get any work done today without a coat.”

she smirked at you and some part of your brain was telling you that her smirk had something hidden behind it. an extra plan. the look of many of the criminals you’d met during your time in ketterdam.

she linked her arm through yours and pulled you towards one end of the ship where a long brown coat was laid on top of the helm of the ship.

you looked at her sceptically, “who’s coat is this?”

she shrugged, grabbing the coat and easing it onto you. “think of it as a community jacket. we all like to share.”

you grinned and let yourself slip into the warmth of the cloth. you shuffled around a little and grabbed onto the ends of the sleeves since the coat was on the bigger side.

“i like it”

tamar smirked and motioned for you to spin, “it suits you. like it was made for you to use it.”

you narrowed your eyes and her words but before you could say anything she was walking back below deck.

the rest of the day went by without a hitch. the cold stopped bothering you and completing your daily task were actually easier. the coat smelled of the sea, the feeling of the sun, and an oddly familiar cologne that you couldn’t quite place.

it was too late before you realized how badly you’d fucked up.

you were on the right end of the ship, tying knots as the sunset around you. tamar was sat on a box talking while you worked quietly.

“nice coat y/n. i didn’t know we were at that level in our relationship just yet.” you heard a voice say from a couple feet away.

your head jerked upwards at the voice and you met the eyes of the one and only strumhond. he wore a smirk on his beautiful face and he was leaning against one of the beams of the ship.

you looked down at the coat you were wearing and had grown fond of throughout the day and your eyes went wide. you snapped your head to the girl sitting next to you, only to find her laughing silently into her hands. you threw her the most menacing glance you could manage before turning your attention back to your captain.

you got up and started wiggling out of the coat, “i am so so sorry. i was freezing and i under packed and i knew i wouldn’t get any work done today if i was cold so i asked tamar and she gave me this one and i never would have borrowed it had i known that-”

you paused your rambling and the sound of strumhond’s laugh. he took a couple steps forward so that he was closer to you and tamar.

“y/n, sweetheart, it’s really okay. we wouldn’t want you to freeze now would we tamar?” he shifted his attention to the girl next to you, throwing a teasing threat.

she hopped off the boxes she was sitting on and began walking away. “nope.” she said, popping the ‘p’, “we wouldn’t want that.” and then she was gone, leaving you and the privateer alone.

you gave him a small, embarrassed, smile. “i really am sorry. i wouldn’t have taken it.”

you finished taking it off and tried handing it back to him. he grabbed it and opened it up, an invitation to step in.

you looked at him curiously. “what are you doing?”

he nodded his head, motioning for you to step into the coat. “just use it. it’s cold. plus.” he paused and slipped the coat onto you, popping the collar. “it suits you.”

you blushed and turned to face him, suddenly aware of the closeness between the two of you.

he looked you up and down. “yeah,” he said in a breath, “it looks better on you.”

your breath hitched and your blush grew down onto your neck.

he leaned forward, his mouth closer to your ear.

“but it would look better on my floor.” he teased before walking away.

oh fuck.

[springismss]

Tested by Time - Chapter 1 🌻

series summary; what happens when time suddenly decides to feed you snippets of a life you can’t remember living? a life filled with joy and happiness that was cruelly ripped away - your mind plagued with just that. when a certain spirit is plagued by these memories as well, he’s just as confused as you. two hearts brought together through many millennia find they’re connected in more ways than one.

pairing; Yami Yugi/Atem x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

chapter warnings; no warnings for this chapter.

chapter word count; 1.7k+

chapter summary; just like you, a certain spirit has memories of a life once lived. you’re oh so familiar to him but he can’t figure out how. what could it all mean?

a/n; wow, it’s been a hot minute since i posted something. in the space of a few months i’ve gotten a new job which i’m so grateful for. on top of that, i’ve had covid so i’ve been feeling out of sorts recently. any who, here’s the new chapter of tested by time!

links; series masterlist | prologue | 2 | 3

"Good morning, (y/n)!".

A sudden yet bright voice caught your attention as you looked around the hallway, smiling softly when you eventually found the owner in amongst the crowds. Lifting your hand, you waved to them as you approached the person and the small group surrounding them. Usually, you'd walk with your friends but today, after what happened, you decided to take a detour and walk a different and longer route to get there. Something that helped you immensely whenever you needed to reset your mind and thoughts.

“Good morning, Yugi!".

A petite male rubbed the back of his head as he smiled at your greeting making you smile as you started chatting away to you about various subjects you both shared today. Even if he was slightly behind due to forgetting someone of the work needed that counted towards the final grade of the year.  With a warm smile, you patted him gently on the shoulder, words of encouragement sounding from you as told him not to worry, he'd have no problems catching up. A subtle shade of pink showed on his cheeks as you giggled, taking a second to elbow Joey in the gut in response to the words you caught him muttering. All while that smile never left your face. "That's a warning. Next time, I'll make sure I go lower than that, m'kay?".

The groan you got in response from the blonde made you snort slightly as you turned to your locker, placing what you needed in as you sorted yourself out for the day ahead, changing your shoes and grabbing your books. The sound of your locker closing was drowned out by the shouts of your friends encouraging you to catch up. Looking to your side, you saw Yugi waiting. With a smile, you nodded your head and walked forward, heading to the first room of the day.

Stern-like unseen eyes watched you closely as their owner tried to convince themselves, the more they saw you, that you were a mere coincidence. That all the years, millennia even, they had been locked away has made them a little too out of touch with everything. Of all the places in the world, you happened to be right where their vessel and partner were. The likeness was unbelievably strong the more they saw you. It was madness, they were sure of it. This modern world had played tricks on their mind. For what felt like months they had been plagued by dreams and visions of a past life, a life they can't remember living. Yet they somehow felt familiar to them.

Two souls who were connected in more ways than one, even something as strong as time couldn't keep them apart had been something that they had overheard the young host and his grandpa talking about but it wasn’t true, was it?

The semi-soft breeze mixed with the setting sun made for a perfect alone moment as the Kingdom’s citizens began to slowly wind down ready to rest for the night. Their tomorrows consisted of the same old but enjoyable routines. One of the many things they wouldn't change about their village. 

Gentle eyes surveyed around again as hands rested on the wall in front of them. A gentle hum sounded as they took a moment to enjoy being just a regular person, away from the hustle and bustle of the building behind them. Life had been a bit of a whirlwind and to say it was hard to adjust was a slight understatement. From being a normal village girl and the unconventional best friend of the young Prince to being his wife came as a challenge. The whispers from the darkest parts and those who didn't support them reached her every so often but not one she was about to back down. She made sure she was going to show everyone who was in the wrong and it certainly wasn't her. Even when the ones who despised the young Pharaoh would try to drip nothing but lies into the innocent citizen's ears, they chose to ignore them. After all, they all adored everything about the young couple. "(e/n)?".

Looking over her shoulder at the sound of her name the young woman smiled and stood upright, manoeuvring herself to lean against the wall she has been looking over a few moments before. Her soft smile never left as the second figure joined her. Looking to her side, she placed her hand on his and offered a small squeeze at the look he wore. "My Pharaoh, I thought you were still busy with plans for the new moon ahead?".

Raising a brow the young king rolled his eyes slightly at the greeting from his wife, taking a moment to pull her into him so she faced him. He could tell this was all still new to her, that she was frightened she’d slip up at some point, despite everything that they discussed in the days leading up to and after their wedding. Still, old habits die old and she'd been so used to addressing him in another matter for so long. "(e/n), I said it was okay to use my name when we are alone. I know it's still scary but trust me, my lotus, you're doing amazingly so please, stop fretting yourself".

A hand cupped her cheek as she closed her eyes, letting a soft sight slip past her lips. He was right but still, she felt out of place like she didn't belong at all. Some of the rumours surrounding her sudden arrangements took her by surprise, like how she was nothing but a common whore who'd managed to seduce the young King to get what she wanted. Slipping into his bed to trap him for an eternity, ensuring no one else would be able to take his heart. She tried not to let them bother her but sometimes, it felt a little too much for her. "I know, ---, it's just I feel a little out of place sometimes. Plus the rumours, they don't help much. It's like I don't belong here. I~".

A thumb over her lips helped hush her words for a moment, eyes softening as she looked at the ones that she fell in love with many years ago. Her heart hurt, almost feeling as if it could shatter to pieces at the misery she has caused daily for the Pharaoh but yet, there he was still by her side regardless. "If you didn't belong here then I wouldn't have fought so hard to have you ruling by my side, fought so hard to have no one other than you as my wife, regardless of everything that was thrown at me in terms of laws besides~".

His voice trailed off for a moment, a brief pause as his hand moved down her side and over the skin of her torso, resting on her stomach just above where he hoped for their future to begin. Soft touches of anticipation for the next chapter of their lives. "If the Gods bless us, I wouldn't want to start the next chapter of my life with anybody else, my lotus".

"Yami? Are you okay there?".

The sudden intrusion of the voice of his host caught the spirit by surprise. He didn't expect him to still be standing in an almost empty hallway while their group of friends had walked up ahead. Usually, the small boy would have walked ahead but the fact the spirit of his puzzle was almost frozen in mid-air made him worry a little more than he would have normally if there was something wrong. Blinking a few times, the spirit come around and looked at the young boy, holding that same stern gaze he had what felts like hours ago. "I am. Please don't worry yourself, Yugi".

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Yugi looked to where the spirit of his puzzle was. He knew, better than anyone else at this point, that the spirit had been having a hard time lately. Not only could he hear him muttering to himself at times, but due to their connection through the Millennium Puzzle, he could also feel what he was feeling. Something seemed to be bothering him but he couldn't place his finger on it just yet. Still, he was determined to get to the bottom of why the other him was feeling the way he was. "Are you sure? Just you seemed to be distracted when (y/n) showed up". The sweet boy, the spirit could appreciate the concern of his. He'd be worried too if it was the other way around, but for now, until he was more sure of what was happening, he wouldn't weigh him down with his concerns. Even if it took a few more months, or even longer, to figure things out then he would keep that to himself. Besides, he couldn't let it affect his host too much, he had enough to be dealing with. "I'm fine, I'm sure. It's something I need to figure out for myself first, so please, don't worry yourself Yugi".

Offering a rare smile, the spirit retreated to the confines of the Millennium puzzle, more so to his mind room. Taking in a breath, Yami let it out softly as he began looking around again, he felt like he was at home but not at the same time. Walking forward, he opened a door of one of the many rooms and took a set upon the soft furnishing inside. Something about those memories seemed familiar to him but something wasn't right, something more was missing. He couldn't place his finger on it just yet. Could these dreams and visions be of a life he once lived with someone who looked similar to (y/n)?

Not that he could remember much, all there was for him was a blank whenever he tried to look further back. His most recent memories go back to the day that Yugi had solved the puzzle, the day his spirit awoke from the cold darkness he had felt for so long. Deciding not to dwell on it too much, he shrugged it off. He'd try and figure it out another day. Perhaps Yugi knew some way of helping him remember his past a little more. Whatever that could be, he knew it was a starting point but he would bring it up later.

Right now, he just wanted to spend some time alone and away from everyone. That he did, unaware that the very girl he kept seeing felt and saw the same things he did.

[bokettochild]

request: sometimes time likes to be alone underwater. with his iron boots and zora helmet, it's easy to just take a stroll at the bottom of a deep enough lake, away from the rest of the world. he did not expect, however, to find legend relaxing inside a small hole in the stone. Mer Legend.

Oh boy! I was vibing with this one for a while, I just wanted to make it perfect!

I'm pretty happy with what I made too, but man is it long!

(I hope this makes you happy, anon!)

When he and Malon have kids, he hopes they don't have this many.

Nayru knows he loves his boys, but they can get a bit much sometimes. They can get loud and overwhelming, and as a man who’s used to traveling primarily alone, with maybe a fairy trailing behind him or his trusted mount, it’s a bit overwhelming. He’s not used to being around people so much, Malon and Talon are his only consistent company and even then, the work they share means that often times it’s only him and his thoughts as he mucks, mends and tends things around the ranch.

Sometimes, when the boys get especially rowdy and playful, it’s just nice to get a moment of quiet to himself. Between Sky and Twilight he knows that nothing overly chaotic will go down, and he trusts the boys to keep each other in check.

So, when they come to the Pup’s Hyrule, their battle in this world over and most of their number restless as they wait for the next portal to arrive and whisk them away, Time allows his boys their space, and with a quick exchange with the only two he can trust to not burn something down (at least while the younger ones can still see them) he heads off into the forest to get a little space to himself.

Of course, he can’t really go far, not if he needs to hurry back, but he doesn’t really need to. His destination is Lake Hylia, which is only a short distance from their camp, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, and, when he gets there, he allows himself to actually breathe for once.

Wild, Warriors and Wind had been locked in a game of cards when last he left, the champion soundly beating the other two both at cribbage while Wars bemoans his poor luck, and Twilight and Sky were discussing wood carving with Hyrule, with the occasional comment from the smithy, who is only too happy to throw in something related every so often as he looks up from his book. That leaves himself and Legend, and he’s long since learned that the vet was one to disappear for his own space when possible.

He’s not overly worried. Legend has items and experience that far outmatch most of their group, and if he runs into trouble Time has little doubt that he’ll be able to get himself out of it to at least gather reinforcements, if not handle the issue by himself.

A deep breath of relief escapes him as the eldest of the heroes pulls a few items from his own bag. The boots are a familiar if not welcome weight as he slips out of his armor and dons the tunic and cap of the Zora, his breath bubbling softly as he steps into the lake before him with a contented sigh.

The cool water floods over the top of him, tugging at his hair and bubbling in his lungs, but it’s doesn’t burn the way that it should. He breathes easily beneath the rippling surface of Lake Hylia, the Zora tunic granting him freedom beneath the waves.

There is little sound beneath, only the muffled noise from above the surface, the flow of the water and-

Time’s ears prick forwards as a single blue eye turns to search the space around him.

Someone is singing.

It’s a haunting sort of melody, one that draws you in and makes you dazed, and Time finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he searches for the source. It is not a Cursed song, nor anything powerful from what he can recall, in fact, it’s almost familiar. It sounds similar to something he hears hummed about their camp at night while the boys take watch. He’d never been able to place which of the young heroes hummed the lilting melody, but he’s let it carry him off to sleep many a time before. Only this song, the one that twines about his head and whispers in his ears and makes his feet trek closer and closer to its source, this song is different, it’s haunted and Broken, and it is sung in a Voice.

Not a voice like most of those above the surface have, but a Voice like a fairy or spirit might have. One that pulls at your very soul and sings in your mind, un-hampered by wind or waves, able to carry across miles to be heard by those that it Sings too.

Heavy feet trod faster.

He’s under no spell, but he is a Link, and by now he has learned that all of their kind are blessed or cursed with courage and curiosity both, and to be without the latter is simply unthinkable for the young-at-heart hero. Something –the forest imp in him maybe- tells him to find the Voice, find the Singer.

He’s only made it part of the way across the lake, hasn’t even left the shoreline properly, when the song stops. Unease creeps over him as he looks around, alert and ready for trouble, only to see nothing but the peaceful stillness of the lake bottom around him.

There! His mind supplies as something pink flits in the corner of his vision, and he’s whipping around to come face to face with-

Long tangled hair drifts in the waves as glistening scales reflect the light pouring down through the waves. Too deep, too dark eyes stare at him in shock for a brief moment, and then-

The creature, the thing, is gone in an instant. Whipping away as it’s glimmer fades into the waves around him, speed no doubt granted by the brilliant tail of the thing sending it rocketing out of his grasp before he even has a chance to speak.

He tried to follow it. He does! But quite soon the adult part of his mind is reminding him how dangerous the thing could be, and that he still has his boys to return to back on the surface. It’s been exactly thirty-two minutes and thirteen seconds since he left them at their camp, and by now they usually would have sent someone to check and make sure that whatever member of their party had strayed off was alright.

Removing his boots is all it takes to float to the surface, despite the fact that he still holds the things in his hands, and it’s with no small amount of relief that he realizes that the bank of the lake is free of other heroes.

Time gathers his things together, wringing out his hair and clothes before returning to his normal gear and heading back to the camp.

Smiles and chuckles greet him as the young heroes tease.

“Go for a swim, Old Man?” Legend quirks a brow, staring up from his place by the fire.

Time doesn’t answer him, but he does shake his head violently enough to spray the younger heroes with water, earning shouts and shrieks from them as they try and shield themselves from the wet. “Seriously, Time?” Warriors moans, wiping lake water from his face. “What are you, a dog?”

Time smirks at the captain and, to everyone's surprise (which produces no small amount of delight for him), he barks.

“What sorts of people have you met in your adventures?” Sky asks a couple of days later, head cocked to the side as he watches his brothers. “You all talk about so many races, but I don’t think I've heard of most of them.”

“Well,” Wild smiles, there’s a glint in his gaze that isn’t quite mischief, but it’s a warning to be wary anyway, because they all know what a crack-pot their cook can be at times. “There’s Hylians, of course, and Sheikah, Yiga, Gerudo, Rito, Gorons, Zora and koroks! You’ve probably already met the Sheikah, since you mentioned knowing an Impa during your journey, and the Yiga are an offshoot of that group.”

Twilight blinks and stares, Warriors furrowing his brow as he two older heroes stare at the younger, but Wild seem entirely unaffected.

“Gerudo are a desert people. They’re really tall, and extremely strong! Most of their race have long red hair and slightly darker skin than the people around Hyrule. They are a society of all woman, with only one man being born to them every hundred years. They worship the goddess Din for the most part, and live out of an opulent city set in the desert where they specialize in the crafting of weapons and jewelry, and the farming of exotic plants.” The champion then proceeds to run down traits and knowledge about the other races, matter-of-factly, as if the details he is sharing are things that everyone from the surface knows.

“Wow.” Sky laughs as Wild finishes. “I had no idea.”

“There’s also the minish.” Four adds. “And the Wind Tribe, who are sky people, of course.”

Sky looks curious, but Four says nothing more, instead gesturing to the other heroes to share their thoughts, which they do.

“Terminans.” Time offers. “Very similar to Hylians.”

“Ordonians.” Twilight adds with a fond smile. No explanation is needed.

The others all nod along, but Legend rolls his eyes. “Humans, like, non-Hylian humans, Shifters,” The vet stares upwards with a light scowl as he ticks the races off of his fingers. “Technically they’re humans too, but Wild counted the Sheikah and Gerudo, so there’s also the Lorulians, Labrynninians, Holodrumese folks, Hytopians, Drablanders, Subrosians, Catalians-” Legend frowns. “I could swear there are more but I can’t really recall.”

Time, for whatever reason, he can’t really say why, cocks his head. “Any water people other than Zora?”

The vet snaps his fingers. “Mer-folk! Thank you, Time. I guess fae and animal folk count on that note.”

There’s a scoff and Warriors is leaning forwards with a smirk. “Fairies and animals, sure, but mer? Seriously, Legend? Have you even met a mer before?”

“Many times.” The veteran drawls, cocking a brow in the captain’s direction. “On multiple adventures. What about you, cap? Jealous you couldn’t snag one for your guild of brides?”

Warriors blusters about indignantly, earning laughter from the others as Legend smirks, but the man recovers quickly enough. “I do not have a guild of brides! That is- that is utterly disgusting!”

“Could have fooled me.” Legend teases, sipping some water from a flask.

“Give him a break.” Twilight snickers, shoving the vet playfully.

The unfortunate thing about Twilight’s shoves though is that the ranch hand doesn’t seem to know his own strength, and Legend is small enough that the light push is enough to send him scrabbling to not hit the ground. More laughter rings about their camp, but this time at the vet's expense, as Legend topples over into the dirt, spilling his drink and failing his arms as he goes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Legend huffs, pulling himself back up and dusts off his clothes, scowling at the water spilled on him. “Great.”

“Oh, come on, you came back soaked to the skin earlier, what’s a bit of water going to hurt you, huh, vet?” Warriors ribs, smirking.

Legend shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“Legend,” Time starts slowly. “How would you describe the mer?”

The vet pauses, gaze resting maybe a moment too long as his hands as he brushes off the hem of his tunic. He’s already done so and there’s really no reason for him to do it again, but he does anyway. “What you’d expect.” He shrugs haltingly. “Hylian on top, fish beneath. Tail, long hair, that sort of thing.”

The old man hums. Legends ears twitch, nose shivering slightly as violet eyes flit over their group. “Care to expand on your sky people story, Four?”

“I’m good.” The smithy replies lazily.

Time would pass it off as a strange one-time thing, he would, but there are... other factors at play.

They’ve traveled to Four’s time, fighting off monsters and solving puzzles the same as they’ve always done. The boys are taking some downtime, playing hide and seek, and just like the last time, Time takes himself down to the river they’ve made camp ear and dons his Zora gear.

He isn’t expecting to see the creature, the mer, again, much less hear them singing -after all, this is a Hyrule far before his Pup’s- but there the creature is. It- or they- frolic in the water, chasing fish and singing softly. The tune is lighter than the last one he heard, a different song entirely, but there is no denying that it is the same mer.

Gold flecked, petal pink scales shimmer beneath the twisted lights that invade the water, hair of the same colors flowing in the current as long fingers, tipped with pointed claws, reach out to swipe at the fish swimming wildly away. They don’t catch anything, but Time hears it giggle anyways, the tune of its voice bubbling in merriment as it rolls like and otter and turns to explore some other part of the river bed.

The cursed curiosity of a hero niggles in Time’s mind. How is the same mer from before in this timeline, ages before Twilight would even be born? And why do they play and explore as if they’ve never seen this river bed before in their life?

Long claws pull through sand, and although their hair blocks their face from his view, he can still hear the warble of delight as the creature removes something sparkling and bright from the river bed. The mer floats in place, turning the item over in their hands curiously before whisking it out of sight and returning to their search.

A mer that likes treasure, huh? Why is he unsurprised?

His own soft laugh startles them, and for a half of a moment, golden ringed, violet eyes, wide and bright and full of shock, meet his own.

The mer is gone before he can make a move.

He asks Legend about it the next day. As they travel along the path towards the nearest town, Time falls back to ask the vet more about mer.

“Do mer like treasure?”

Legend starts, eyes wide as they meet his own, and something in the back of his mind is nagging him that the look in the vet’s eyes is somehow familiar. “What?”

“Do mer like treasure?” He repeats himself.

Legend stares at him, blinking slowly as they continue along the path, but eventually the vet shakes his head and answers. “Depends on the mer. They’re people too, Time, they can have varying interests and hobbies. There is no standard for mer. None.”

“Don’t they all swim at least?”

Legend’s gaze is flat. “There are disabled Hylians aren’t there? Not all Hylians can walk, and not Mer can swim. Some just choose not to because they don’t like it!”

Time frowns. How does the vet know so much about mer culture? “How do you know this?”

The vet shrugs, eyes darting away. “I’ve been a lot of places and met a lot of people. Mer are no exception.”

“I thought you hated swimming and the water?” Wind breaks in, falling back to join the two of them with an odd look on his face. He looks like a puppy and it’s killing Time not to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“Didn’t always.” Legend returns, smiling wryly down at the sailor. “But enough of that. The real question here is if you’ve ever met one, sailor.”

“A mer?” Wind furrows his brow, looking away with a soft sigh. “The water in my world isn’t safe for the people who lived in it. There’s hardly even any fish in most places. The Zora in my time had to adapt to the air instead in order to survive.”

Awkward silence falls over them, the vet looking guilty for a half a moment before he settles a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “The goddesses aren’t always fair, Maliit, it’s not your fault.

Time hums his agreement, heart aching for yet another young hero and a world that suffered for Time’s failure to have properly saved it.

He sees the mer again. Not just when he’s in the water himself, but when he’s keeping watch during the night or on occasion when he goes fishing with Twilight. The Pup says nothing about seeing gold and pink beneath the water, but Time finds himself watching it all the same.

It darts beneath the dock they’re fishing on one time, and when Twilight’s line gets a tug, the rancher pulls it up only to find the one of his boots dangling from the other end.

Time can’t help it, he laughs.

So, this mer is a prankster, huh?

He takes to seeking them out, trying to catch their attention or try to talk to them, but nothing works. The minute that gold and violet eyes meet his own, petal pink scales flick deftly in the waves and the mer is swimming away.

But Time isn’t dumb.

He knows that the same mer cannot reasonably exist across all of time, not with all the changes that come to the world with each hero. He knows that this being is somehow following them, and h’s got a rather good idea exactly how it’s happening.

It’s a long shot, but he knows for a fact that Legend is always gone from camp before he sees the creature, and enough times startling the vet when asking about mer has taught him that the expressions between the two are the same. All he knows on the mer’s face is shock, but the vet’s eyes glimmer the same shade of violet, even if they are different in size and shape, and the petal pink hair that the vet comes out of the forest with one evening after their group was separated is uncannily similar to the shade of the mer.

They’ve made camp again, and rather than climbing into the water when he catches a moment alone, Time settles on the shore, not in the mood to be in the water but in need of its calming song. The air has been tense the past few days, and Time welcomes a brief moment to relax, forcing himself not to think of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side or the ragged breath that wheezes between the rancher’s lips.

Twilight will be fine, he reminds himself. Hyrule and Warriors had worked together to tend the wound and while it would definitely leave a scar, the danger of losing their beloved friend and brother (and maybe son?) is not so high anymore.

He welcomes a free breath, away from the hurt gazes of his boys as they try and process that their beloved canine friend and the rancher are one and the same. A chance to think without having to stop those who were out of the know from bombarding those who were in it with questions.

He’s glad to be free of the questions himself.

Legend seems to be too, if the glint of pink beneath the waves is to be believed.

He doesn’t approach this time, doesn’t try entering the water to speak. He’s tired and he wants his spae, and he imagines Legend would like his own too. So, instead, he sits on the bank, feet trailing in the water and ocarina on his lips as he plays softly.

The tune is a sweet one, one he’d written himself that lilts and dips softly, very nearly perfect for a dance, but far more suited to a night by a fire or watching the sunset. And sunset it is, fading light stretching out across the water, glinting of the surface and reflecting off of gold and pink-

He stops, eye wide as he turns towards the flash in his vision.

Gold and violet stare back at him, framed in curling pink as Legend freeze half-way through pulling on his tunic again.

Gold fades just as the scales dissapear and leave the vet siting on the shore, tunic still bunched around his shoudlers and violet eyes wide with fear as he regards his leader.

“I won’t tell.” Time forces, turning away his gaze and returning his focus to the instrument in his hand. He doesn’t play, but he doesn’t look up either.

“It’s an item.” Legend forces, strained. His voice is still tainted with whatever power had shifted him between forms, and it’s sweeter and more melodious than normal. “I found it on my third adventure. Got cursed.”

“Like the rancher?” Time hums softly, not having to look up to know that Legend is shifting nervously, foot tapping madly at the ground beneath him.

“Yeah.” Legend huffs.

“Okay.” And he does look up them, calm and as open as he can make himself seem as he meets the vet’s gaze.

“Just okay?” One brow cocks as Legend crosses his arms.

“Just okay. It’s your secret, Legend. I can’t change what I’ve seen, but I won’t tell the others either.”

Legend nods, wary bit willing to accept the words, if only for now. “If you say so.”

They’re on their way back to camp, Legend carrying an armload of fish and Time carrying both of their bags when the vet stops and glares at him. “I don’t want to hear any jokes, alright? I get enough of those from Twilight and Sky.”

“They know?” The old man tilts his head in question.

Legend flushes, ducking his head and setting off again at a speed some might label a scurry. “No. Hurry up, these fish are gonna rot!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waves lap around his head and it’s all Time can do to break the surface, coughing and hacking as he struggles to remain above the water.

The portal had come at the worst time ever, and no one had been ready to be dropped into the center of the ocean.

Lightning crackles overhead as waves swirl and crash about him. The ocean rages and Time is again reminded how small Hylian’s are in the face of Mother Earth herself.

“Boys!” The shout rasps from his throat as he spins to look about, praying to every deity he knows that he’ll find the rest of them safe and sound, or at the very least together. Never mind that Twilight still can’t walk, much less swim. Never mind the smithy’s shattered arm and Wild’s fear of the water. He can’t panic about those right now, he has to find them!

“Over here!” Sky’s voice answers him. The Chosen Hero clings to the shivering form of the smithy, both are soaked and trembling, but they’re managing to stay above the waves.

“My Hyrule!” Wind calls out as Time strikes out towards them, and the sailor continues once he’s close enough to see that at least five of his boys are safe. “We’re near land,” Wind nods in a random direction and Time wonders briefly how the sailor even knows that. “It could be a challenge in these waves, but we can make it. Have you seen the others?”

Hyrule looks up at him hopefully, the water-logged traveler fighting madly to stay above the water but succeeding despite the waves. Time reminds himself to help the boy learn to swim more effectively later, and more importantly how to properly tread water, but for now he focuses on answering Wind. “You're the firsts. We’ll have to hope the others are alright, getting y’all to safety is my first concern.

“But Wild!” Hyrule splutters, choking on some water as Time swims over to give the traveler someone to cling to. Freezing fingers latch ahold of his armor as teeth chatter, the waves are neither kind nor warm and with their health as it is he’s certain someone is going to end up with a cold when this is all over. “And Twilight! A-and Legend and Wars! They’re out there somewhere!”

“We have to hope Legend and Warriors can elp the other two. We can’t do them any good if we’re fighting to stay above ourselves.” He tries to same calm, but his own mind and heart scream with the same message that Hyrule’s voice does, and its all he can do to push it down.

Thunder rolls overhead and waves beneath as they push off towards the shore, each of the older heroes aiding a younger one as Wind guides them all towrads the supposed island.

Time hs never been so relieved to see sand in his life, and as Hyrule pulls himself up the bach and Wind helps Sky to settle Four, Time can only pray that he’ll find his way back again. “I’m going to look for the otehrs. Wind, stay and help Sky.” The sailor looks as if he wants to hesitate, but he knows better than anyone how a small body can be lost to the waves much easier than an adult. “Make a fire, warm up as best you can. Keep an eyes out. I’ll come back if- when I find the others.”

He stops only to shed his armor and don his Zora gear, but a single dive beneath the water is enough to tell him that it’s for naught. Wind wasn’t joking about his water being toxic, and a single breath of the stuff leaves Time heaving as soon as he breaks the surface.

His chances of finding the boys have lowered considerably.

Nayru above, don’t let anyone have sunk beneath!

Time swims for all he is worth, pushing past weariness as he battles each and every wave. And he’s just beginning to lose hope when he catches sight of something silver reflecting in the water as lighting flashes above.

“Time!”

Blue whips around to meet its twins as Warriors comes to swim beside him. “Have you found any of the others?”

“Wind, Sky, Hyrule and Four.” he breathes back. “You?”

The captian looks rueful but nods to his side. “Legend.”

Time can’t help but start as Legend’s eyes peek above the surface. Golden and violet are glassy in the pale ace of the vet, but they’re there and that means that Legend is alive.

“I’ve officially met my first mer.” Warriors sighs, but there’s worry in the captains voice and face both.

“Split up.” Legend’s voice rasps, and there none of the melodic song that Time is used to hearing from this form of the vet.

Legend is pale, far too pale.

“What’s-”

“Wind’s world.” Warriors tells him. “Water here is toxic.”

The water is toxic. The water, which mer have to breath to stay alive, is toxic.

Time’s gaze shoots to the vet but there’s only a flick of gold and pink as he disappears beneath the waves. Warriors groans.  “He keeps doing that! I swear, I have no way of knowing if he’s even still there, but he still insists on disappearing like the little shit he is.”

Usually, Time would scold his brother for such a tone, but he knows that Warriors is just sacred. He’s terrified, and it leaks into his voice and his actions, and the only way that the soldier knows how to hide the fear is by biting back with venom, not dissimilar to the vet’s own actions.

They swim together, searching and calling out for the two missing heroes. Hope is beginning to fade and Time can feel a gnawing fear eating away at his heart as he thinks of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side and the likelihood that Twilight would even be able to swim with it.

His pup’s chances aren’t high.

“Look!” Warriors shouts over the storm, jerking him from his thoughts as his eyes follow the captain’s pointing hand.

Pink bobs on the surface, backed by bedraggled and soaked black fur as Legend hauls Twilight’s limp form through the water.

“Pup!”

He’s taking the lad from Legend as soon as they’re in reach, and Legend seems to sag in relief as the weight is removed from his shoulder. “Was with Wild. Bring him to-” The vet wheezes and ducks beneath the water for a moment, coming up with a pained expression on his face. “Bring to shore. I’ll get Wild.” He gives them no time to respond, tail flicking as he disappears beneath the waves again.

Time and Warriors exchange a glance and head back to shore, supporting the weight of the rancher between them.

Wind and Sky have managed to get a virtual bonfire going on the shore, and the sailor has laid what blankets and bed-rolls he’s found of their equipment in front of it, allowing their dampened things to ry as he and the other three heroes bundle together for warmth.

It’s with a cheer that they al; greet Time and Warriors as the two emerge from the ocean, and Time can’t help but smile a bit in relief at seeing them all safe again. Only a little longer and Legend will be back with Wild, and then he can rest easy knowing they’re all out of the storm.

Rain still patters against already soaked skin and cloth, but with the fire flickering before them Time can’t bring himself to care over much.

Hyrule’s fingers shiver as they slide over the wound in Twilight’s side, cleansing it from the poisonous water that has soaked into the bandages, and while Twilight grits his teeth and winces, he’s at least conscious enough to do so, and that alone brings some peace to the others.

Warriors informs the others of the whereabouts of their two missing brothers, and Time helps to settle Twilight on one of the warming bedrolls. It made still be wet, but it’s better than getting sand in the pup’s wound.

They wait in tense silence, bundled together to share heat as nervous gazes watch the shore. Wind hasn’t stopped muttering under his breath and Four isn’t doing much better with his half formed sentences and steady murmurs.

It’s only when Wild’s golden hair can be seen on the shore that they all release a breath of air.

Cornflower blue is wide and glazed, likely from shock, but it doesn’t stop the champion from reaching back into the waves to pull out his companion.

Legend is a mess.

The veteran gasps and splutters for breath once he’s free, skin a sickly shade of white and eyes just as glazes as Wild's own as the two clings to each other, and when the two stand together Legend is leaning heavily against the shaking champion, and it’s only through sheer luck that Time and Sky get there in time to catch them before the duo collapses back into the waves.

Wild curls against Time’s chest, fingers shaking and eyes blank as the man carries him back to the fire. Legend doesn’t even stir, lying limp in Sky’s hold as the Skyloftian bustles back to join the other heroes.

Nothing is said about the glistening tail that fades into legs once Legend is warmed and dried, and even if anyone had dared the stern gaze of the first of their number would have been enough to silence them.

Violet blinks hazy and distant beneath the warmed fabric of Sky’s sailcloth, but they are all safe. They are all safe and they are alive.

“Thanks to Legend.” Wild whispers when he comes back, head resting against Times collar bone. “Without him I would have never got Twi back to shore.”

“Three cheers for the vet.” Wars forces a smile, and while the cheers are heartfelt and thankful, they do nothing to lighten the mood.

Legend doesn’t even seem to hear them.

[anthemxix]

Warriors headcanon based on a conversation with a friend of mine: He's a pretty boy who focuses so much on appearance because during battle (and in war generally), there's no room for it. He gets dirty and bloody and soaked in violence, and the only time he can make himself feel properly grounded is when he gives his hair a good wash with all the best soaps and perfumes, and when he puts on lovely clean clothes and his beautiful blue scarf. Beauty as a trauma response, basically. The others tease him about it and he goes along with it because yeah, it's kind of silly how much effort he puts into his looks while they're camping and fighting, but he also never tells them about the drifting, floating feeling he gets when there's someone else's blood in his hair and between the ridges of his fingertips.

Ooh, interesting! I love it!! :D Thank you for sharing this with me! Wrote a little something for this~ Hope you enjoy. :3

- - -

“Okay, Pretty Boy, that’s it,” a miserably grimy Legend calls as he once again pounds on the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for an hour and a half. Ninety minutes! What could you possibly be doing in there for 90 minutes?”

No response this time. Legend scowls. “Come on! Everyone else has given up waiting!”

He glances around the side of Wild’s house to the pond out front, where the rest of the heroes chat and laugh together. After a grueling slog through the previous Hyrule, which culminated in a particularly bloody battle, the heroes were tremendously relieved to arrive in Wild’s era. An R and R session at Wild’s cozy home outside quaint Hateno Village—with amenities such as ample yard space and a private bathroom—is exactly what they all need right now.

Except someone has been hogging the best perk for ninety. Freaking. Minutes.

Wild, Twilight, Time, and Wind had all opted out the gate to bathe in the pond, something which Legend couldn’t fully understand. Sure, he’d bathed in plenty of dismal creeks and nasty rivers on his journeys, but when he was granted the luxury of an actual indoor bath, he would take it without hesitation.

Swiftly (and predictably), Warriors had called first dibs on the bathroom, leaving everyone else to wait their turn. Okay, whatever.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Hyrule decided a dip in the pond was sufficient for him, too. An hour went by before Four surrendered to the need to feel clean for the first time in weeks. Now, only Legend and Sky remain attached to the idea of a proper bath.

And Legend didn’t know about Sky, but he, for one, will not bathe in a goddess-forsaken pond tonight.

Legend looks back to the door and glares. He’s been badgering Warriors to vacate the coveted bathroom at regular intervals, usually earning a vague response of, “I’m almost done.”

Well, if that wasn’t the lie of the century…!

Beyond fed up, he slams his red knuckles into the wood over and over. “Pretty Boy, Sky might have patience for days, but mine dried up long ago. I swear to the Three, if your narcissistic ass doesn’t get out here right now…!”

Pausing in his obnoxious knocking, Legend waits for an answer. There is none. He tries to tamp down the bubble of worry that floats up at that and grips more tightly to his thread of righteous anger.

As Legend lifts his hand to continue knocking, the door, at last, swings open. Out floods a harmonious potpourri of floral and fruity fragrances. Warriors stands there, perfectly clean and put-together, his expression oddly stony.

Worry returns, but Legend refuses to acknowledge it.

“Sorry,” Warriors says, sidestepping Legend.

“Oh, you’re sorry, are you?” Legend snaps. “Well, excuse me, Princess. That makes it all better then.”

Ignoring the jabs, Warriors continues to walk away. Legend grabs his elbow and jerks him back around. “Really, is a puny ‘sorry’ all you can muster? After forcing us to wait an entire hour and a half for you to dab on your perfume and fix your hair?”

Warriors looks away from him. A strange detachment mists his eyes and his tone. “…Yeah, that’s all I can say. I’m sorry, Vet.”

Brows drawn, Legend releases Warriors’ arm, which drops limply back to his side like a doll’s. All of Legend’s anger, which he normally clings to as a safe haven, drains away.

“What’s wrong with you?” he says. Concern softens his habitual harshness.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. Tell me.”

But Warriors just waves a dismissive hand and turns away. “Enjoy the bath.”

Mystified, Legend watches Warriors disappear around the house, opting for solitude indoors instead of joining the other Links.

In what should be a triumphant moment, Legend finally steps into the bathroom. It’s a disquieting moment instead. The lingering scents of Warriors’ expensive soaps and shampoos only unnerve him more, and he closes the door with unease.