#and I went for a swim in the wind and the rain and then changed so now I’m in my comfy socks and shorts and hoodie and tank top and life is

[milo-is-rambling]

Hanging with the animals at the lake while it rains :)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Eight

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6k] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutual annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

The storm was unexpected and not forecasted, a monsoon rolling through a July afternoon that went almost unnoticed inside of the arcade. The windowless building didn’t show signs of the rain, nor the dark skies, but by the time the last of the kids left, the rush of a downpour and the rumble of thunder could be heard from the open door. 

And once you’d cashed up and pulled your bag from your locker, you let your workmates out the door before you locked it behind you, hearing their goodbyes yelled over the din of the rain as they ran through puddles to their cars, their parents' minivans. 

Your bike was chained to a railing ten feet away, away from the shelter of the door awning, placed perfectly in the middle of a puddle that was growing into a small lake. You squinted into the gloom, splatters of rain water sticking to your skin, already humid and sticky from the lingering heat. 

Then a car pulled up in front of you, a maroon BMW with shiny alloys and a pretty boy behind the wheel, one you hadn’t seen all week after you’d kissed him stupid in the photo booth. The window rolled down and Steve appeared more clearly, shirt dotted with rain, hair messy from the wind. He was looking at you carefully, maybe warily, maybe nervously. 

But then he nodded to the empty passenger seat. “Get in.”

You didn’t hesitate, not the way you would’ve done weeks ago, chin tilted high and haughty, ready to tell Steve Harrington you’d rather swim home than accept a ride from him. But Chrissy had come back from being off sick and Murray had switched up the schedule. You hadn’t seen Steve in a while, not since the kiss, not since he’d had his hand tucked under your knee and hitched your thigh to his hips. 

Not since his tongue had been against yours. 

Not since he’d whispered your name, a gasping, rough sound that you didn’t think Steve knew he made. 

Not since you discovered that you made Steve Harrington hard.  

Not since you realised you wanted to do it again and again and—

You got in the car. 

The inside of the BMW smelled like Steve, like cedar wood cologne and mint gum, like expensive leather and the half full coffee in the cup holder. You were almost soaked through from the dash across the sidewalk, shirt wrinkled to your body, unnecessary sunscreen and rain water sticking to your skin. 

The radio was low, a murmur, the sound of the rain on the roof louder than anything. Steve nodded at you when you finally looked at him and then he shifted gear, pulling away from the arcade and into the storm. 

Steve drove you through town without much talking, his fingers twisting the controls on the radio, the sounds of Tears For Fears mixing with the rain on the windshield, the hum of the aircon. You didn’t have to tell Steve where to go, you didn’t have to tell him your address. He drove through the streets, kicking up water as he went, heading towards the familiar row of houses not too far from his own. And just before he turned into the lane, you swallowed hard, not wanting to leave just yet. There were things to say, you were sure of it. You just didn’t know what.    

But Steve beat you to it, pulling over in a corner shaded by tall oak trees, at the edge of the sidewalk where the road met a park that was only used for teenage make-outs and underage drinking. It was quiet, empty, and you changed a look at the boy when he killed the engine and the music. 

Steve looked different away from the neon lights and despite the storm, it still felt too quiet without the sounds of the arcade. It was too loud without the alarms, the jingles. Too bright despite the grey.  It was overwhelming. 

“Steve, about last week— what happened, I—”

The boy interrupted you before you could go on, a hand that paused as it made its way to reach over to you, hovering over your thigh, like he decided it wasn’t a good idea. Until he did, Steve’s fingers curling around the skin above your knee and your gaze found his, lips parted in surprise and you watched him think - just for a second - before the words were tumbling from his mouth with anymore hesitation. 

“I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” Steve murmured, sounding a little dazed, quiet under the blanket of rain, the sky through the windshield a hazy lilac-grey and god, the world felt fuzzy, it felt soft. “Like, at all. Fuck, I don’t know, I just— I just.” Steve licked his lips, letting his gaze drop to yours. “Wanna do it again.”

The air seemed to disappear from the car. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. 

“If you’ll let me,” Steve finished, nervous and quiet and unlike you’d seen him before, his eyes unsure as he made his way back to his own seat, his hand retreating from your leg. 

You didn’t let him get far, your hand wrapping around his wrist to keep him close, leaning forward in your chair to meet him over the console, noses almost brushing. You shared the same shaky breath and outside, the rain fell harder. 

“We don’t like each other,” you tried to remind him, but the words came out unsure, like you couldn’t remember yourself. “We’re not— we’re not friends. We don’t—”

Steve shrugged, a clumsy thing that you barely saw because he was so close. His hand that you kept on your thigh tightened, a needy grasp that you encouraged by smoothing your palm up his forearm, upupup until you were holding onto his shoulder and fisting his rain speckled shirt in your fingers. 

“You’re right, we don’t,” Steve agreed and his voice was lower than before, more sure and back to sounding a little cocky now that you were holding him with the same kind of want that he held you with. “I totally hate you.”

You wondered if Steve believed his own words in that moment, because with the way he was staring at your mouth, you sure as fuck didn’t. 

You didn’t seem to care though. 

“Right,” you nodded anyway. “You’re so annoying.” Your nose bumped against his, lips hovering. Waiting. Wanting. Eyes barely open. 

The rain got louder, fuzzier, a white noise roar that seemed to match your heartbeat. 

“Yeah, you’re a real pain in my ass, princess. Can I kiss you?”

Steve was on you before you finished nodding, a pleased hum coming from the back of your throat as he closed the gap, his hand flying up to grasp the back of your neck, like he wanted to be in control, like he wanted to savour it. 

It felt less like an argument this time, this kiss. Steve’s mouth swept over yours lazily, languidly, a melting popsicle on a summer day, cherry flavoured and coloured red like sin. It was chaste for a while, innocent enough for two people parked curbside just before a residential street. But the rain had kept everyone indoors, it had washed away the sidewalk chalk, the hopscotch lines and the love hearts.   

Instead, it left inky shadows to hide in, navy and lavender light, heavy rain. Enough noise to disguise your moans with, a substitute for the arcade sounds but this felt better, this felt closer. Warmer. Hotter. 

Then Steve’s tongue licked over your bottom lip as his thumb grazed the corner of it, an impatient tug that was supposed to be a question. You answered it by parting your lips for him, tongue meeting his, his groan mixing with your sigh. And too soon, he was pulling away, rosy cheeks and glassy eyed, watching you with the most curious expression - like he couldn’t work you out. 

And then: “C’mere.”

Steve moved his chair back, cranking the lever until the seat rolled away from the steering wheel. There was enough room there for you to crawl into his lap, to straddle him and get closer than before. So you did exactly that, a little clumsy and a little eager as you scrambled over the console, Steve’s hand catching your elbow to help you, even with a smirk on his face. 

“Thought you didn’t like me?” He reminded you through your willingness to throw your leg over his thighs, grinning when you scowled. Steve’s hands found your hips, warm and wide, gripping tight as you lowered yourself over him. “Or does that not matter now that you’re—”

“Steve? Shut up,” you muttered huffily, happy to have worn a skirt as you settled yourself against him, chest to chest, your hands diving into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You rocked your hips, getting comfy, squirming a little in Steve’s lap and you made a little noise as you did so, the denim and the half hard length of the boy catching against your cotton underwear nicely. 

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, voice suddenly breathy, the teasing knocked out of him now that you were on top. “Right, yeah, totally shutting up.”

It was easier to press your lips back to his, the neediness mounting, a new kind of want that clawed at your insides and suddenly you didn’t hate the boy at all. In fact, you really liked the way his hands dropped for your hips to hold at your spread thighs, knuckles teasing the edge of your skirt, thumbs rubbing circles the inside of your legs. 

You really liked the way he sighed all deep when your tongue licked over his, how his nose pressed harder against your cheek, like he couldn’t get close enough. You really liked the way he kissed you with a confidence that came from knowing how handsome he was, from knowing how a girl liked to be touched. 

But you loved it when his mouth hung open when you shoved him back into the seat, a hand to his chest, your own heaving. “Slower,” you told him, whispering, following him back into the chair, where you kept him pressed against the leather. Your mouth was a ghost against his, your bottom lip catching the arc of his cupid's bow, his kiss pink and pouty for you. “Softer.”

Steve did as he was told, hands roaming the expanse of skin under your shirt, fingers trailing up and down your spine as he kissed you like he had all day, all night. A teasing push and pull of his mouth against your own, teeth catching your lip, tongue sliding over your own until you were squirming. 

“Yeah?” He asked, lips glossy from you, eyes dreamy. 

You nodded, clutching at him, fingers twisting in his hair. “Yeah.”

You didn’t realise you were rocking yourself over Steve until he swore, hands holding you and pushing you down against his hard cock, tight and trapped under his jeans. It was a heady experience, the drag of denim against your underwear, cotton soft and almost soaked through the more Steve kissed you. You felt drunk, the roar of the rain a staticy sound in your ears but Steve’s moans were louder, more important. 

He sounded so pretty. He looked even prettier. 

So you rested your forehead against his, lips open in a gasp, hips rocking a little faster, a dirty grind that made you feel filthy. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see. 

“M’gonna come like this,” you whispered, only a little embarrassed at your admission. You felt flushed, too warm, the summer air heavy in the car with the aircon off. “Shit, Steve.”

“Christ,” the boy groaned, voice sounding wrecked. “You can’t say shit like that, fucking hell.”

You only whined in response, catching him again for a kiss that turned messy, desperate as you both chased something you didn’t know you’d wanted. Your hands were on Steve’s jaw, titling his head back to kiss him a little deeper as he encouraged you to grind down on him. 

He tore away from you when you moaned louder than ever, squirming against his cock through his jeans, letting out a hiccuping sound when the zipper caught against your clit. His lips were on your cheek, the line of your jaw, down your neck. 

“Oh my god.”

“Shit, princess, are you gonna come?” He growled when you nodded, your cheek pressed to his. “God, that’s so fucking hot, you’re just— fuck.”

Steve hoisted you away from him, from where you’d pressed yourself against his chest. He coaxed you up, holding onto you with one hand on your thigh, just under your skirt, the other on your waist. He was still guiding you, hips canting up now to help you both gain more friction. You were desperate for another kiss, to feel the dirty flick of Steve’s tongue over yours but Steve tutted as you tried to move back, his hands keeping you where he wanted you. 

“Nuhuh,” he murmured, “wanna watch.”

“Oh, shit,” you whined, clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling up the cotton until more skin was revealed, tanned and freckled, a dusting of hair leading down into his jeans. You curled your fingers there instead, holding onto his belt. “Steve, m’close.”

The boy nodded, frantic, suddenly intent on seeing you fall apart, just for him. “I know, I know, keep goin’ for me.” His thumbs dug into your hip bones, pushing and pulling you over his cock, his own breath hitching at the sight of you throwing your head back, eyes fluttering shut, your hold on him tightening. “Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. You look so good.”

It was an easy climb, when he spoke like that. It was a sudden fall when he whispered to you next:

“Can you come like this? Rubbing yourself on my cock? Christ, you’re gonna, aren’t you, princess?”

You came with your lips pressed back to Steve’s, clawing at his shoulders as you whined into his open mouth, his own groan falling onto your tongue, his hands pressing hard into your sides as he jerked underneath you, hips rolling. Steve flushed as he came, cheeks reddening, eyes turning glassy as he watched you and you watched him. 

Neither of you moved, not yet, not as quickly as you thought you would’ve. Instead, you leaned into him, body slack and warm, skin slick with rain and exertion, your chest heaving against Steve’s. Maybe you imagined the kiss Steve pressed to your shoulder before you sat up, the fleeting warmth of his lips on your skin, the soft hum that came from him as he did. 

There wasn’t any embarrassment as you stared at each other, your legs still splayed over his, the crotch of his jeans starting to darken in one spot, a mix of yours and his accomplishments. If you felt proud at the sight, you tried not to show it. So you both caught your breaths and Steve rubbed a thumb over your knee, wincing when you left him to crawl back to the passenger seat.  

You didn’t kiss him goodbye before you left, and Steve didn’t offer any other sweetness when your fingers curled around the door handle, but you did leave him with one parting gift. 

“I don’t really hate you,” you told him, suddenly shy despite the marks he’d left on your neck, the mess you’d left his hair. “Not really.”

Steve grinned, a proper, beaming thing before he caught himself and tried to smooth out his expression. He cleared his throat, nodding as he started the engine and gave you one last look. “Yeah. Not really.” 

You hadn’t even noticed the rain had stopped.

[shakespearefreak]

Samantha and Nellie’s Northwoods Adventures

As I’ve already mentioned, last weekend Samantha, Nellie, Kaya, and I went to my family’s Cottage in Northern Wisconsin! 🌲 Samantha had visited the Cottage with me when I was little, but a lot had changed since she (and I) had last been there; and this was Nellie’s first time ever! Sam described it to her as being like a smaller version of Piney Point, where Nellie had joined her and Grandmary on vacation after being adopted into the family. I already shared photos of what Kaya did up North, so now here’s Sam and Nellie’s Northwoods adventures!

We left in the afternoon, but the drive to the Cottage is four hours(!), so it was already evening by the time we got there. In keeping with Cottage traditions, I rang the loud, clanging ship’s bell 🔔 that’s mounted on a pole near the door to announce our arrival to the forest and the few neighboring cabins. That first night, we really only had time to unpack and get settled before going to bed.

The girls were so excited they stayed up late into the night, snuggled into their sleeping bags, talking in low tones and giving the occasional hushed giggle.

Despite the late night, we awoke bright and early for the first full day.

Breakfast somehow tastes especially delicious when eaten in a cabin by a wide window with a lakeside view.

After breakfast, I was mainly occupied with taking the pictures of Kaya and swimming 🏊, so the two girls were left to their own devices for most of the day, but Nellie did join my mother, stepfather, and me on the pier later on.

Nellie stood on the pier, staring out at the bright blue sky over the deeper blue of the waters.

We also discovered a perfectly doll-sized chair that matched the bigger ones, so of course I had to take advantage of that!

She relaxed in the chair in the warm early evening sunlight, listening to the waves lap at the wooden planks.

The next day, I was so exhausted that I ended up sleeping into the early afternoon, and by the time I woke up the sunshine had been replaced by a wet, cloudy sky. Samantha passed the time painting 🎨 on the deck (Virginia had kindly allowed her to borrow her paints and easel) until it began raining 🌧️ in earnest.

The gray day was a little disheartening, but Samantha made the best of it with Virginia’s borrowed paint set (though she did have to duck inside with the painting still unfinished when the occasional light spotting of rain turned into a regular drizzle).

After it began to pour, we went back inside and made popcorn 🍿 before retiring early.

The last day seemed to sneak up on us before we knew it. It started out gray again, but Sam and Nellie decided to take a walk with Jip 🐕 anyway, and while they were playing ball the sun came out again.

Jip was full of energy, so they decided to tire him out with a game of keep-away. Sam and Nellie tossed the bright red ball back and forth, Jip running back and forth between them, following the ball’s progress and occasionally leaping up in an attempt to grab it out of the air. Finally he caught it and paraded around proudly with it, then sat down to chew it and refused to relinquish it for several minutes until he was convinced the game was over.

After a short rest, it was time to head back inside to pack up again and begin the long journey back home.

The sun had come out during the game, and both girls were feeling hot and winded. They sat down on a fallen birch to catch their breath, grateful that they’d brought along a big jug of iced tea*. Jip already seemed energetic again, wagging his stubby tail and sniffing eagerly through the dead leaves. “I think he tired us out!” Nellie laughed, a little breathlessly. They sat and drank their tea, listening to the sounds of nature (and the occasional sharp bark from Jip when he saw a squirrel), reluctant to leave… but eventually they went back inside to pack and say goodbye to the Cottage. 

“I hope we can come back next year!” Nellie remarked, watching the Cottage dwindle down the road behind them, before disappearing around a bend and being lost to sight.

THE END

*I realized after taking the photo that their mugs of tea look kind of like beer steins, but I promise they’re not 😅

BONUS:

(In case anyone was wondering what Samantha's finished painting looked like!)

I’m thinking of covering my poor attempt at a birch tree in the lower left with something else… a pine tree perhaps, or maybe just re-painting the trunk so it’s brown instead of white with black marks… though then I’d have to make it much darker than the surrounding dirt, to make it stand out. I’m open to suggestions!

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

A BREATH OF FIRE ox Min Yoongi

[Hybrid Gods AU]

PART THREE

A taste of honey and dreams

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid, Kim teahyung/Human King.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The sun rays bathed my skin as i sat beside the river, my feet getting wet as sank them in the water warmed by the hot summer sun.

Fragments of images blurrier my vision, happening so fast. At first I was walking beside the river with the sun shining bright and the birds singing while the trees danced with the wind. Then the night fell, i laid in bed while a lady was beside me, blood all around me and I felt cold. So cold. The lady cried while holding my hand. I couldn’t move, no words came from my lips all a saw before everything changed was a shadow of a man dressed in black behind the lady.

The images changed fast, a man was in front of me. Goosebumps run all over my skin as he walked towards me but i didn’t felt frightened, I felt happy. Relived. I run to him. Arms closing around his waist tightly.

- teahyung…

My voice was a whisper under water, but my heart burned with feelings I didn’t understand. Who was this men? What where my feelings for him?

- my dear yn…. - his deep voice made me look up at him, he was beautiful but looked so sad - i missed you so much I thought i was going to die.

- Don’t said that. I’m right here my king…

Anguished i felt, so suddenly the images change but i couldn’t make out what it was. I saw fire and people running around, then a stabbing pain on my stomach. An arrow.

You know that feeling of when you swim deep in the water and come back to the surface. That was what i felt when I finally woke up from that dream.

Relief flowing through every part of my body as i took in my surroundings. The ceiling of Yoongis room, the smell of wood and cinnamon and in the background of everything else thundering.

Heavy rain fell outside, the sound of it helped in calming my fast beating heart. It felt real.

A warm weight laying over me and i knew i was safe, once my eyes fell on his face to the sight of his massy hair all over his face, one arm over my waist holding me tight. I moved his hair out of his face smiling as I look at his soft features while he sleep. Although the scar gives him a different demeanor, he just looked endearing to me.

I run my hands through his hair, softly touching the base of his long black ears that laid flat against his head, hiding on his hair you could bearly tell he had them.

A soft moan left his lips, his brows furrowed as he stoped my hand from moving. Holding it softly in his, eyes still closed he left a small kiss on the palm of my hand. For a moment i thought I had crossed the line he draw, but his reaction told me otherwise. Was he still sleeping?

My question was soon answered as golden eyes stared tiredly at me, he had a lazy look on his face and he smelled like flowers and honey. Such a different contrast as to what he usually smelled like, but still heavenly.

- are you okay? - he asked, voice raspy and deep.

- Yes… why?

- I heard your heartbeat… was it a bad dream? - his thumb moved slowly against my hand, massaging the palm as he looked at me.

- Kind of… but it was just a dream - I assured him.

He gave me a “okay” while putting my arm around his neck laying completely over me, his head over my chest. I went back at caressing his head, running my fingers against his hair.

The sound of rain and thunder in the background was so calming and peaceful i was almost drifting back to sleep again, but my mind woke up quickly at the reminder of Jimins arrival with sweet bread for breakfast, he would be delivering the bread at any time. I had to get things ready for breakfast.

- I need to get up - i said, hands sliding to his shoulders trying to move him off of me.

- No… - he only murmured. Not moving an inch.

- Yoongi… I have to make breakfast and Jimin - i tried to convince him.

- Jimin won’t be coming today… - he interrupted me.

- He won’t? - i asked, he always did - why not?

- He don’t like rain and getting wet - he said lifting his head from my chest to look at me.

- Oh… but still - i said, his golden eyes staring into mine. - if you want to stay in bed is okay, I can work by myself i just…

He didn’t let me end my sentence and was already getting up in a second.

Fixing his clothes before making his way to the door he gave me one last look.

- let’s make breakfast - he said before leaving.

I sat there stil not understanding anything. What has gotten into him?

This moody fox.

…

We eat breakfast quietly enjoying the sounds of the rainy falling outside, it had lessen from now. No thundering sounds anymore just a quite rain. It felt so peaceful as some birds where singing, happy for the rain after so many days of hot sun.

The sweet smell of coffee and honey bread brought a comfort to me, Yoongi sat in front of me this time eyes on his coffee as he drank and a book on his other hand.

I watched him as he read. His eyebrows would furrow here and there when he read something intriguing. He would lick his lips after taking a sip of his coffee then would go back his full attention towards the book in his hand.

I watched as he turned the pages, fingers sliding over the page every time he read one and went for the next one, his golden eyes looked darker this time.

I felt my cheeks getting warmer as i stared at his neck, his Adam apple moving down once he took a sip of his coffee. His colar bones showing as the hanbook was slightly opened and still messy, half of his chest exposed moving up and down slowly as he breathed, his soft skin seemed to shine over the grey light coming from the window.

I was lost in every inch of him, not even realizing he noticed me staring at him. Cup of coffee still on my hands in front my lips, to busy looking at the fox that sat in front of me to drink my coffee.

- you’re staring - he said, not looking at me. Eyes looked on the book in his hand.

- You look good… - I confess, almost inaudible checks hot and red.

He didn’t say anything but I noticed the small smile he had on his lips.

After we have breakfast i went outside, watching the rain fall in the garden. Some people don’t like the rain because it makes them sad. But i always loved the rain, it brought me serenity and calmness.

The roses seemed to bloom even more in the rain their perfume was everywhere, the garden was so beautiful it looked like a painting.

I hugged myself as a cold wind flowed through, the leaves on the floor danced around as the wind moved them.

I couldn’t help but let the flashbacks from my dream run through my mind, my heart felt heavy at the thought of the man. Just who was him?

Up until the point I touched him the dream felt like… a dream. Then it was as if i was right there. Every bit of feelings i had at that time hit me with so much pain, I loved him. And it pained me. Why?

- what’s going on the head of yours? - Yoongi said behind me. I turned to him noticing he changed his clothes. Now wearing a black hanbook.

- Nothing. - i said, for some reason telling him about another man didn’t felt right to me.

- Don’t lie to me… - he walked in my direction, out of instinct I walked back making him stop then he walked towards me with absurd speed, holding me against the wall. Golden eyes burning into mine.

- Yoongi…

- You promised me… - he said, as if not believing in it - you promised you wouldn’t… - before he could finished I stoped him, I knew what he was thinking. I knew he thought that mark on my hand was still reason to make me uncomfortable.

- And I’m keeping my promise, it’s not that… - i assured him, the worry in his eyes subsiding - the dream… i think I saw my past life.

I finally take it out of my chest what has been ghosting around my mind, a sight of relief coming from his lips worry slowly leaving his features, his glare on me wasn’t angry anymore but gentle and understanding.

I knew he just worries about me, somewhere in his heart he cares for me and just want to protect me. It felt hard on me keeping things from him knowing that. But at the same time, those were things I wasn’t even sure of yet.

- sorry… - i said, guilt weighting on me for making him worried about me - i should’ve told before.

I know I could tell him about everything but it still confused me, i didn’t know anything i saw in that dream.

- No… it’s okay - he told me, pausing for a moment.

He looked to the side before looking back me, his hand leaving my sides as one he held my chin slowly caressing it, the other rested on my waist. He pressed his forehead against mine as he closed his eyes taking a deep breath before looking back into mine.

- what did you saw? - he was more gentle now, still caressing my chin.

- I can’t really tell… - I tried hard to picture the images I saw in my dream - i only saw fragments of images…

I wondered what i could tell him about the dream and from some reason telling him about the men i supposed I was in love with seemed to bother me, it felt wrong as I was in his arms.

- there was a man his name was Taehyung, i think he was the king…i called him that… - I tell him.

- Just that? - he asked. Curiosity shining in his golden eyes. He was giving me all of his attention.

- I saw how I died… - I could still feel the way the arrow went into me, a chill running down my spine as i remember it - the rest was only in fragments nothing clear…

He sighted, hand falling on my waist as he pulled me closer for a hug. Burying his face on my neck as he moved his hands up and down my sides in a gentle caress, i closed my arms around his neck embracing him back. His delicious smell of wood and cinnamon surrounding me.

He began to slowly leave small kisses on my skin, starting from the back of my ear down my neck and colar bone. Stopping to look me in the eyes again, our foreheads touching and the tip of his nose slightly brushing against mine.

He moved us forward, pushing me completely against the wall, a gasp of surprise falling from my lips. His hands holding me tightly against him, body fully against mine as his golden eyes burned with so much fire over every inch of me. I felt like melting as one of his hands held my chin up, his face nearly inches away from mine lips brushing over mine. I closed my eyes waiting for him.

- am i interrupting something?

Yoongi pulled out from me so fast at the source of voice I almost lost my balance. It was Jimin. He wore a baby pink hanbook that shined on the silver light of the sky, it gave him a look at cuteness and innocence.

- don’t you hate rain? - Yoongi said, i notice the slight impatience on his tone. Angry from being interrupted.

- Yes - Jimin walked to us then pointed to the sky - but it stopped… - he looked at us both up and down eyes stopping at Yoongis hand still on my waist.

I quickly brushed Yoongis hand off and made my way towards Jimin, taking his hand in mine quickly running away from there with him. Yoongi looked like he could punch him at any moment. I didn’t want that to happen.

- so good to see you made it today - i said, rushing inside the house - did you brought that delicious bread?

- You bet! - he answered excited.

Once inside he went straight towards the small table in the middle of the kitchen, putting the basket with all the bread and sweets on it. I was immediately hit by the delicious smell of it. He opened the basket and my mouth watered at the sight of so many different kinds of sweet. Straight out of the oven, I could tell from the small mist coming from them. There was a small bread full of sugar and strawberry jam, a bread bathed on honey, small and round shining with honey all over it.

- oh my, Jimin! - I exclaimed eyeing the sweets - they look so good!

- Try this - he gave me the strawberry one, i took it from his hand and it was impossible not to get sugar all over my fingers. And the taste? Simply delicious and so juice. The strawberry jam was sweet and perfect.

- It’s so good oh! - I complement him. Mouth full and lips covered on sugar.

He smiled shyly a bit of red on his checks, he turned to take the breads out of the basket putting them over the table.

- Is it that good? - Yoongi suddenly said coming towards me and Jimin, I watched as he slowly made his way towards me.

He had that look on his face. The one he had on the bath last night, golden and fierce. Long ears standing proud on his head as he walked towards me as if i was his pray, before I could try to escape he was right there in front of me.

- let me try it - he said once he stood in front of me. Golden eyes never leaving mine.

I swallow hard, not once did it crossed my mind he would hold my hand with the bread and bring it towards his mouth taking a bite of the bread so slowly. Torturing me with his golden eyes staring straight into mine as he licked the sugar off his lips. Same lips that were on my skin not long ago. It was turture.

His hand slided down my arm slowly, he made sure to touch every centimeter of it after he’s done.

- delicious indeed - he said, never once did those golden eyes left mine - oh… you got some sugar here.

He moved his hand to my face, thumb sliding over my lips taking all the sugar from it. Golden eyes fallowing his touch over my lower lip, looking up into mine only to lick off the sugar from lips on his thumb, so damn slowly.

My mind was going places. Racing with thoughts and my body burned everywhere he touched.

- Should I… should i make some tea to drink with the bread? - I try to run away from that awkwardness. Jimin only looked at us confused before saying a small yes, he didn’t understand what was happening and it showed in his eyes.

To be honest neither did i. Yoongi has been acting different towards me ever since he came covered in blood, more touchy and protective over me. It made me nervous. So nervous at how much i desired him. Did he felt that too?

As i make the tea Jimin tells me he’d get the table ready and i decide to make a Chamomile and peach tea, I fill the kettle with water and turn the stove on. Watching as the fire starts to heat up the kettle and i put the tea inside the teapot. Since i had my back towards them the whole time i didn’t notice Yoongi coming behind me until he corners me against the sink, both his hands on each sides of my body. His soft breath hitting the back of my neck sending chills down my spine.

- did i made you uncomfortable? - he asked, worry in his voice.

- No… - i whisper, wondering if this was about the strawberry bread or the incident outside before. - not uncomfortable, just…

- Nervous? - he didn’t let me finish not single drop of worry in his voice this time, his lips slightly brushing on my neck. I could only nod. - good.

Good.

A ghost of a whisper as he then left to sit in front of Jimin on the table. I swallowed hard, checks burning red.

What does that mean? Does he know how he makes me feel? Does he know i want him… is he doing it on purpose?

I didn’t thought much of it as the kettle was starting to make an annoying sound, i pored the hot water in the teapot breathing the smell of peaches and chamomile.

We can deal with it later.

….

Jimin and Yoongi were talking a lot more today, and i quietly watched them as they proceeded to make a comfortable conversation. Yoongi seemed to be in a better mood today, they talked about different topics and things i didn’t understand about their world. Jimin would explain to me excited at my curiosity and Yoongi would listen and watch us, a found smile on his face.

Time passed so fast i didn’t realized we’ve been talking for hours till Jimin says he has to go now, Yoongi fallows him outside turning back to me only to say he has some fox duties today.

I only nodd and smile to him, assuring him it’s fine. He gives me one last smile before going for real.

Once it was just me in the house i took my time to clean up the table and put the food in their place. After that i decided to read something till Yoongi comes back, so i went to our room stopping in front of his bookshelf. I picked a book of poetry which had a red cover with the name written in gold.

Sitting on the bed i got comfortable before i began to read, line after line the book getting me completely into it. The soft sounds of rain falling outside was music to my ears as i continued to read, looking outside of the window from time to time admiring the rain.

One thing added to the other, the smell of honey and the sounds of rain falling down. My mind was being serenaded by the words in the book and everything seemed to be so peaceful and comfortable.

Eyes staring to get heavy and slowly i fell asleep, face over the book but still so comfortable. How?

I didn’t worry about that in the moment, my only thought being how comfy I felt in that moment. Falling into a deep sleep.

More and more deep.

Yn.

The sound of rain further away from my mind.

Yn.

Deeper into the darkness of my dreams.

- yn… - a deep calm voice whisper in my ear. - my darling please wake up for me?

Hands moved up on my back, it didn’t scared me far from it. His touch felt nice. So deliciously nice.

- humm… Teahyung? - still sleepy I said.

- yes my darling…

My eyes opened slowly and I took in his face. He was over me, his hands caressing my face so delicately. A found smile on his lips.

- I’ve missed you my queen… - he said, before lowering down to kiss me and I closed my eyes waiting.

Everything changed in a second after that, I opened my eyes at the sudden feeling of cold only to see the full moon shined bright in the sky as i looked at it. It didn’t bring me comfort as it usually did, no.

This time I felt pain. The more I looked at it the more it pained me.

- yn…?

I turned to him immediately as I hear his voice asking for me, a hopeless sight escaping my lips at the sight of him. Covered in blood again, the sword on his right hand.

- no, Yoongi… - my voice was bearly a whisper.

- yn?… - the sound of his voice cracking as he walked towards me, eyes shining but this time it was from tears.

I walked towards him as he came to me, tears falling over his face. He looked so terribly sad and lost, I just wanted to hold him in my arms.

But he walked right through me.

I stoped in my tracks. It took me a second to realized. I didn’t wanted to turn around, deep down I kinda knew what was waiting for me. Even so I turned back, only to see the the flames growing more and more on the house, his house was on fire. Falling apart.

Yoongi fell down on his knees in front of what i now realized was… my dead body, he held me against him crying out loud. His cries where a punch to my stomach. Each time another painful cry left his lips was a painful stab into my heart. Tears falling on my face and i kept screaming to him. “I’m here” “I’m alive” “please… look at me”.

But he never did.

That felling of almost drowning but then coming back to the surface, waking up from that dream felt like dying and then being forced to come back. My chest was hurting painfully, my body still recovering from the dream, that pain felt so real and heavy on my chest.

If I closed my eyes again i could still hear his cries, wiping a single tear off my face as i remember it. How was that so clear? It felt so real i couldn’t make it up.

The sound of rain was heavy now, i looked up the window to see the sky has darkened. I must’ve been asleep for a long time, taking a deep breath i made my way out of the bed. Wondering if Yoongi had come back already or if he’ll come back only tomorrow morning like usual.

A sudden need to see him filling my chest, i just wanted to make sure he was okay. I didn’t think i would be able to wait until the morning to see him, not after that nightmare. In such short period of time he became so dear to me.

I didn’t spear any seconds as i quickly got out of the room, not seeing any sign of him in the house i make my outside.

That weight of worry melted out off of me as soon as my eyes landed on his figure, he was sitting on the porch a serene look on his features as he watched the heavy rain falling. For a moment i just watched him, taking in his presence. I felt like crying for some reason but held back.

He noticed my presence as he looked over at me and a small smile made its way to his lips, i felt so relieved walking towards him. Yoongi seemed to notice something wasn’t right as he took me by the waist as soon as i was in front of him. My arms closing around his neck as i hugged him tight.

- is something wrong? - he whispered in my ear.

- i thought you wouldn’t come back today - i reply, burying my face in his neck.

- sorry.

It wasn’t just any apology, he understood exactly what I meant and i know deep down he meant it for last time and for now. When he wouldn’t come back from his duties, and when he came covered… i just held him tighter as the image of him like that crossed my mind. We held each other for so long the sky began to clear, I looked up to find the moon shining over us.

For the first time i didn’t want to look at it, it made me nauseous. Something about it didn’t felt right with me, a sudden need to challenge it.

Sliding my arms over Yoongis i looked over his face, beautiful golden eyes staring into mine. We were so close yet i needed more.

- we should go inside… - he murmured - it’s getting colder.

I simply nodded letting him guide me back inside the house, his hand in mine the whole time.

Once in his room he turned to me, one hand gently caressing my face. The other one on my waist as he walked making me walk backwards slowly till the back of my knees touch the bed, I sat down looking up at him as he continues to caress my chin.

- you look tense… - his voice dark and velvet - allow me to… help you relax? - I feel a chill on my skin as he leans down, his face mere centimeters close to mine.

I swallow hard as he then draws his finger down from my chin to my neck and along my colar bone. Leaving a ghost of a kiss on my check he stands upwards walking to my right he sit beside me before sliding to sit behind me, both his thighs on each side of my body. I could still feel the tip of his finger dancing along my skin.

I almost lost my breath as he moves my hair gently to the side fingertips brushing slightly against my skin, just a simple movement but the way he does it makes into so much more. One arm circling around my waist as he than opened the not i made on the clothe i wore. He pushed slightly down making me hold it against my chest, turning to look at him from the side.

- don’t worry… - he murmured against the back of my hair - I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.

He began to push it down again just enough to expose my colar bones and shoulders . His hands sliding up my arms so slowly it felt like torture, he always loved to tease me I knew that. But this time it felt so nice I simply closed my eyes allowing him to do as he pleases, enjoying every second of it.

His warm fingers finally coming in touch with my shoulders as he slowly added some pressure with the tip of his fingers, massaging my neck in slow movements of up and down.

I had to bite my lips to hold a moan as he focused on my neck, aplaying pressure with his thumb in the back of my neck and slowly sliding down his fingers on my colar bones.

A long sight escaped me as i leaned my head back against his touch, feeling his breath hit the back of my neck as he came closer to me. He held me against him making sure i lean on him, completely rested over his body. He left small kisses along my neck, my hands resting on his thighs as he began to use his teeth on my skin. So slightly i could bearly feel yet enough to make his canines known.

- is this okay? - he suddenly asked.

- yes… - i could bearly say anything, completely lost on his touch.

I felt his smile over my skin, he was enjoying the effects he had on me. Yoongi continued the assault on my neck, this time leaving long wet kisses over it taking long licks on my skin from my shoulder up to my ear leaving a long kiss behind it. Sucking on it more harshly, his teeth clearly scratching my skin this time he was leaving marks all over it i could feel it.

His hands holding my waist tighter and tighter each time, i could feel his breathing turning faster as he held me against him. One final kiss over the curve of my neck, his hands sliding up almost too close to my chest but never trespassing it. He groaned against my skin slightly moving his hips up.

- Yoongi… - i moaned, grabbing his thighs sticking my nails on him.

Turning my face towards him i searched for what i needed the most now, his lips. One hand grabbing the back of his neck towards me to finally kiss him. We both moaned at the touch, wet lips finally meeting each other.

I wish I could say it was a romantic kiss but, it wasn’t. It was sexual and full of desire, tongues fighting for space savoring each other’s taste. We been teasing each other for so long, waiting for one to finally give in. Not leaving space for curtesy, he bit into my bottom lip just to lick over again.

One arm around my waist he held me tight before turning me over as he stayed above me, golden eyes shining under the dim light of his room. Lips red and plump from the kiss, his pointy fangs showing a bit as he smirked coming down to leave a small kiss on my lips.

Then my neck leaving a tray of kisses all over my chest and between my boobs, opened the hanbook completely now my body on display for him as he kept leaving kisses over my skin down towards my bellybutton. Hands over my hips as he slides them up over my ribs then down using the tips of his finger nails carving my skin, goosebumps flowing up my body at his touch making my arch my back.

Eyes closed as I felt him leave more kisses all over my hips, fingers sliding under the sides of my underwear over my hips to push them down. Taking them off completely from me, he stayed there on his knees just looking at me, cold wind coming from the window hitting my body making my nipples harden immediately.

He brought his hands over my knees, brushing his thumb over them slightly before opening my legs for him. His eyes savory every centimeter of my body, once he was satisfied he began to lower down towards my belly.

Leaving mouthed kisses and bites over my skin making a tray down where I needed him the most, his hands held my thighs in place as he gave my pussy a long lick.

I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to his touch, my back arching immediately seeking more of him. Hips rocking against his face.

- Yoongi… - i moan. His name falling from my lips like sugar, I feel him crave his nails deeper into my flash.

He started with long licks over my clit, his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he began to suck on it moaning against my pussy. The wet sounds from his mouth on me driving me completely insane, every movement of his tongue against me sending a burning desire over my body, I couldn’t stop my body from moving against him.

It made him hold my thighs harder as he stared to move his tongue faster against me, one of my hands grabbing his hair as he sucked on my clit harder. He moaned against me, the vibrations of his voice making me go more and more wilder.

I was getting closer, he could fell it as he continued to move his tongue faster not stop in even fora second.

- Yoongi… - i moaned out his name, grabbing his hair harder as he groaned against my pussy.

I was so close I could feel my heart beating faster against my chest, blood burning through my veins. My hips moving against his face uncontrollably as I held his hair between my fingers, his nails leaving red marks over my thighs.

He continued to suck on my clit his voice vibrating against me, I could feel the heavy burning sensation of my high coming. I was head in the clouds so close to it. But then he stopped. I groaned inpatient. He lifted his head up from my pussy, smirk on his wet lips as he stared into my eyes with his golden ones.

His right hand sliding down my thigh.

- you taste so good… - he said over his lashes, I looked at him still coming from my high. - i taste you all night….

I could say anything. He didn’t gave me much time, pushing my hips against his face again. His tongue inside me as he used his finger to touch my swollen clit. My whole body was burning with his touches. Moving his tongue in and out of me so slowly in the most delicious way.

Hand instinctively gabbing his hair again as I rocked my hips up and down against his face, fallowing his peace. I felt my high coming again, so close but he never stopped his peace. I felt like a could met every time he moved his tongue inside me. Legs shaking around him, I couldn’t control my body anymore.

Begging him for more.

My feet sliding down over his back stopping at his bottom, he groaned against me. Sucking on my clit he inserted his finger inside my pussy, finally giving me what I wanted.

Meet sounds coming from his fingers fucking me as he continued to lick and suck on my clit, I was a complete mess. Legs shaking beside his head getting closer and closer to my orgasm, he kept going faster groaning against me.

- Yoongi… so close… - i moaned his name, grabbing his hair harder.

A wave of relief filled me, my heart was racing and my whole body felt so light. Everything felt so deliciously good I couldn’t explain. Looking down between my legs Yoongi now moved slower as I came into his fingers, he rode out my orgasm with his tongue, licking all traces of it from my pussy.

I caressed his hair as he began to trace the skin of my thigh with his finger, licking his wet lips he stared at me. Golden eyes shining brighter than I have ever seen, the sweet smell of cinnamon in the air coming from him more noticeable than ever.

His finger slides down, stoping at my hip and than sliding over my pussy so slowly a ghost of a touch, he moved his finger deeper against my clit deliciously finally sliding inside me again.

- Yoongi, no… - i manege to whisper to him. He chuckled not stoping his movements. - no I can’t again…

- Yes you can… - he murmured, low voice full of desire dripping from his mouth.

With that he slides another finger inside me making me arch my back, my hands closing into fists as I grabbed the sheets. He lowered his head down on me again, this time sucking over my clit as he moved his fingers in and out of me painfully slow.

- no… - i moaned again, but he didn’t stop. At this point I didn’t wanted him to.

- Come for me again y/n… - he growled over me, coming back for my mouth as he kissed me harshly.

I moaned against his mouth as he began to move his fingers faster, using his thumb to move over my clit as he went faster. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me sinfully, his groans against my lips all driving me towards the edge again. Tasting myself on his lips, he slides his tongue against mine making me moan in his mouth.

My hands holding his shoulders tighter the closer I got, scratching his skin deeper his moans driving me completely insane.

- more, Yoongi…

- that’s my girl… - he said over my ear, leaving a kiss over it - com for me again…

- Yoongi…

I held on into him harder the closer I got, his finger moving in and out of me faster. He continued his assault on my neck as I held into his shoulders, nails marking his skin hiding my face on the curve of his neck.

I could feel that wave filling me up again, painfully slow and so good. My hips moving against his finger as he drove me to my second orgasm, I moaned out his name sinking my teeth over his neck.

I felt his voice vibrate through his skin as he groaned in pleasure, my nails sliding down his back leaving marks. He moved his finger slower driving the last bit of my orgasm.

My head was in the clouds again, my whole body felt so heavy and tired.

I moaned once he took his finger out of me, leaving a kiss over my check he stared into my eyes.

- that’s my girl… - he said, caressing my bottom lip with his wet thumb - taste yourself for me hum?

Slowly I opened my mouth for him, taking in his two fingers that were inside my pussy. Tasting my own juice as he looked at me with such pleasure, bitting into his own lips as I suck on his fingers. Feeling the soft tips slide against my tongue, wet with my cum. Holding his wrist as i suck on them, eyes locked with his golden ones.

- fuck.. - he cursed, closing his eyes - you’re driving me crazy y/n…

He slides them off my mouth licking them before coming back for a kiss, lips moving slightly against mine. Leaving one last kiss over my check, he caressed my face golden eyes staring into mine with adoration.

- you should rest now - he whispered against my neck.

- but you… - i moved my hands up his shoulders which he takes them into his to put them by my sides on the bed.

- i can wait for you tomorrow… - he pressed a kiss over my ear - I’ll need you full rested.

- oh… - i simple said, realization hitting me. He chuckled.

One hand he bald my thigh over his hip the other around my neck as he pushed me up to lay over him, my head resting against his chest as he still held my leg over his hips.

His hand caressed my head softly as the sound of his heart beat slowly draw me to sleep, my eyes feeling heavier each time.

The rain outside still falling heavy, thunder lightning above in the sky. The smell of rain misture with his heavenly perfume of wood and cinnamon, I held him tighter as i finally embraced my sleep.

That night I had no dreams of my past life.

Next?

Taglist: @missmin @whipwhoops @glosstwn @i-have-no-life-charlie @kooslilhoe @catlove83 @taegicity @ginger-coffee-addict @rosquilleta @tarahardcore @liveyun @manuosorio @thvlover 7 @4ukiyo4 @sukonsukuna @passionandsuga @missroro @btspurplesky @crystallizedtime @i-am-invisible-for-you @celticcountrygal @dancerninjastudent-blog @fairywriter-oracle @m4gg13-g @alexxa013 @unadulteratedlyunique @kpopmultistantrashsstuff f @anaspectoflife @younhakim29 @slinekyu @nochookiee @strxwbloody @yoongislatinagff @pandafuriosa60 @nattjuless @cuntessaiii @fatmaortiz @kimsonlyluv @wobblewobble822 @be0mluver @bangchanbabygirlx @illnevertrustmyselfagain @slut-4-yourmom @jiminbluerose @mygdday @bitch—ari @honsoolgloss @kimtaehussy @amariemoore @starrlo0ver @blue-and-grey-army

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes 😅💖

[andithewhumper]

Experimentations Chapter 4: The Water

Content: Avian whump, human whumper, scientist whumper, threat of drowning

Dr. Vaughn knew that there would be no calming him down from this, but she didn't mind. She pulled out the dart gun from earlier and knocked him out. Then she untied him and put him back on the stretcher. It seemed that they would be doing the next experiment sooner than later. She pushed him back into the flight room. She restrained his hands behind his back and attached a collar to his neck with yet another electric lock. Then she attacked his collar to a notch in the floor. After he was secured she started preparing the room. She went into the control room and pressed a few buttons. The perches previously on the walls started retracting back, leaving the walls bare. Then He pressed a few more buttons and the room started to fill with water. She had situated him on a small platform that rose above the level of the water and then she pressed the last button and the heat kicked on. Now she just had to wait for the water to boil and the avian to wake up.

Streak didn't let on when he woke. He kept his head bowed, his hands limp behind him. His wings were draped around his body, defensively. He thought she was there, in front of him someplace. He assumed she was. But he was unwilling to look up to see. He took stock of his body. Hands behind him, a leash connecting his neck to the floor. Great. Love that. She was playing mind games. But his legs were not restrained, and neither were his wings.

The water started to boil. Dr. Vaughn couldn't see whether the avian was awake yet but he was sure going to wake up once he felt the hot water start to jump and burn him. And once he got up he was in for a long night. She leaned back in her chair and watched through the glass, waiting for the avian to show signs of consciousness. She knew it would be soon.

Streak reacted fast and suddenly. His wings spread wide and he took off with a leap, suddenly as far into the air as the leash allowed. He had to restrain his wing beats, to keep from dipping his feathers into the water. He cried out, in anger, in confusion. He tried to find her, but he couldn't see anything besides the wall of the room he'd been in earlier. 

"What is wrong with you?" He shouted into the echo chamber. "You're insane!" The collar dug into his neck with each beat of his wings. He was made for soaring, not hovering, and he couldn't even do hovering well, when he was tethered over water. What she didn't know, though, was that the boiling water was simply an additional threat. It didn't need to be boiling to kill him. His wings were not made for water. The oils on his feathers protected from dirt, insulated him from the wind, fended off the sun, and even the rain. But submerged in the water, water coming between each feather... it would waterlog him. He would sink, and his heavy wings would drag him down no matter how he tried to swim. He would die in water, of any temperature.

Dr. Vaughn beamed as she watched the avian spur to life. She leaned forward and pressed a button on the microphone. 

"I told you that you needed my permission to use your wings and you disobeyed me. Now you will learn what happens when you choose to break the rules. The water below you is only a few inches deep but I imagine that the temperature of the water won't let you land. You will stay here until you learn your lesson, and believe me I can leave you here all night." She turned off the microphone with a click and watched him flap through the glass. She would wait until he was absolutely exhausted before letting him down. Maybe then he will think twice before using his wings without permission.

He pulled at the collar, but with his bound he couldn't do anything more. 

"Well, you lost your credibility!" He smart-mouthed at her. She'd taken the muzzle off. He assumed it had not been a day. So she was willing to change her punishment if he pissed her off enough. That was good to know. If he could cause enough problems in any given scenario, she would reset to something new. Not that this was better. His wings were all wrong for this activity. 

Dr. Vaughn hummed. Perhaps she had lost her credibility temporarily, but she would make certain to put the muzzle back on once he had exhausted himself. She didn't respond to the lip. She just watched him struggle with the bonds. Soon enough he would start to tire and then the fun would begin. The real reason you had let him out of the muzzle.

"If you want to see me fly, take the collar off!" He yelled at the glass. He was pretty horizontal, his legs straight and stiff in his usual flight position, but each beat of his wings was unnatural and forced. He needed more space than he was allowed, and it was making this test a lot harder for him.

He repeated himself a few more times, fighting with the collar. His wings were stronger than they seemed, and when he really put his effort into it, it seemed for a moment like the leash would come free of the sunken platform. He changed positioning a few times, but he could only really fly when horizontal. His wings got too close for comfort, if he was upright.

Dr. Vaughn hummed, watching the avian struggle. She wouldn't let him free until he was exhausted and begging her for a chance to rest. She noted the way he was flying in her journal and took note of the amount of time he had been flying. Perhaps he would go longer than her hypothesis.

His mind was full of ifs. If he was free, he could fly for hours and hours without stopping, though it would be in dizzying circles. If the water wasn't boiling, he could land safely, he knew that now. If Loe were here, If she left him here, If he fell in- He wanted to kill her. He knew he was better than this test would make him seem. He was a long distance flier. He soared for hours, hitching rides on air currents. He wasn't a hummingbird. He didn't stay in one place. The force his wings created, flapping just once, was enough to rocket him halfway up the room. This restrained version, he was pulling the collar against his neck, trying not to snap his spine.

Dr. Vaughn noticed that the avian was starting to tire. She took notes of this in her journal and slowly turned the temperature of the water down a small amount. She wouldn't completely stop it from boiling but she wanted to prepare for dropping the temperature significantly when the avian finally collapsed.

"Please let me down," he whispered to himself. He didn't want to admit defeat, but this wasn't a game he could win. He was going to hurt himself- no, he was going to get hurt. It was her fault, not his. He'd done nothing wrong, he needed to remember that. He was sweating, still shirtless, and his hands twisted and struggled in their binds behind him. "I'm failing," he called to her. "I'm not gonna- I gotta stop."

Dr. Vaughn felt a wave of satisfaction through her when the avian started calling to her. She knew he wasn't yet tired enough to beg her, but he was getting there. The effort was obvious in his straining muscles. His wings were not flapping as strongly as they were before.

He groaned, his wings straining. The problem was self control. He just wasn't able to do this. His body wasn't able to sustain this. 

"Help-" he groaned, his arms trembling. His legs were locked in place, he was in long term flight mode, and he was struggling to go back to being a person and not an eagle. 

"Let me come down!" He insisted, more urgently now. But it was not a request, and it wasn't polite, it was a demand.

Dr. Vaughn raised an eyebrow at the avian's demand. He was close, but the desperation hadn't quite translated into begging yet. She wasn't worried. Soon enough he wouldn't be able to hold himself up and then the begging would come tenfold.

Streak grit his teeth. He was making a bad choice, he was being very stupid, and it was going to hurt a lot. But he wasn't willing to beg her. He wasn't willing to submit. He dramaticized it well. It looked like he collapsed rather than gave up, but he was definitely prepared. His boots were good, she'd said it was only a few inches, and he believed her. He knew how far down the platform was. He could fly better with damaged wings than he could walk with damaged feet. His wings rotated, and he landed hard.

Dr. Vaughn watched the avian with interest. He certainly was getting tired if he was willing to risk burning his feet to give his wings a rest. Well two could play this game. She reached over and turned the water pumps back on and the water level began to rise again. The temperature might go down, but the avian wouldn't be able to swim, certainly not without the use of his hands.

He sort of hopped around. The water was much too hot to bear even though his boots, though he didn't think he was actually burned. So he swapped from foot to foot for a moment and then took off again. His neck was badly bruised from his jerking again and again against the collar and leash, and he winced as it dug in again. Then his feather got wet. He cringed, drawing his wings further up, but he couldn't limit his radius any further while staying in the air. He scowled deeply, but kept it up, the tips of his longest feathers dipping into the warm but no longer hot water.

She reached forward and turned on the microphone. "There are no loopholes here, avian. You will fly until I decide you have learned your lesson."

She turned the microphone off and checked the water level. It was at about six feet by now. She had gradually lengthened the amount of chain that came out of the floor so he wouldn't suffocate himself.

He had to fly now. The chain was longer, but the water was higher. He was still in the same position, needing restrained wing beats to keep from dipping his feathers into the water. He was scared now, he was really scared. He could die in the water before she could get him out. Of course, he wasn't thinking about her draining the water. He wasn't thinking rationally at all. He pulled harder at the leash, his legs kicking.

Dr. Vaughn noted his panic, pleased that he did indeed have energy left in him. She noted the amount of time that it had been and she checked the water level again, making sure that it hadn't gone above six feet. She even drained it a small amount five feet would be enough water that the avian would have trouble keeping his head above with the weight of his waterlogged wings. And it was safer for when she pushed the platform back up and drained the water.

He wasn't aware of the water level anymore, only the water that had touched his wings. It wasn't nearly enough to do anything at all, but it had shaken his confidence and he was spiraling. 

"I'm gonna drown," he was whispering to himself, "I'm gonna drown, god, I'm gonna drown-" And then he faltered, his wing dipped, and he over-corrected. He rolled sideways to get it out of the water, but it dunked the other one in, and in that exact moment, he was dead. He was as good as dead. The water seeped between each feather and dragged him down, he let out a terrified shout before his head went under. He was tall enough to stand, but he wasn't strong enough. His wings, each one longer than he was tall, dragged him down, and his legs weren't strong enough to hold up the weight. He crumpled under the water, the wings completely waterlogged. He was able to push his head above the water after a few seconds, gasping for air. He never exactly learned how to hold his breath, that wasn't something avians had to know. His hands still bound behind him, he shook his head to be rid of the water on his face. He was crying openly now, he'd never been so afraid in his life.

Dr. Vaughn watched the avian dip under the water. Quickly she pushed the platform up to drain the water and he sank with it, his wings laying on the wet floor. They were probably a hundred pounds each, sopping wet, and he didn't have enough back muscle to move them. They just lay limp where they'd landed, water streaming from them toward the drain.

She stood from her chair and walked out of the viewing room. She walked over to the avian and crouched down in front of him. The avian before her was magnificent. He was soaking wet and sobbing, so defeated that he was perfectly malleable. This is what she wanted. Now he would learn some respect and the lesson would stick. He would be much better behaved in the morning. Dr. Vaughn brushed a strand of wet hair out of the avian's face. She lifted his chin gently with a single finger. 

"Have you learned your lesson, Streak?"

He nodded, his face lifting but his eyes looking down. He was trembling, his shoulders shaking from sobs, and he was coughing a bit. He hadn't been underwater long enough to be at risk of drowning, or even inhaling a dangerous amount of water. He'd just never been submerged like that before. 

"Don't," he pleaded, his tears mixed in with the rest of the water dripping down his face. "Don't ever- I won't be- Bad, I'll do what you want, please- please, don't ever put me in water again-" He began to sob anew. He was a wreck.

Dr. Vaughn brushed a tear off his cheek with her thumb. She listened to his pleas with satisfaction. She lifted his head up with both of her hands, cupping his face. 

"Look at me Streak. You don't ever have to go in the water again if you just behave yourself and follow the rules, okay. Can you behave yourself?"

He nodded into her hands, sniffing. He coughed again, turning away from her.

"I wanna go home," he whispered, his golden brown eyes still glittery with tears. "If I'm good... If I do all your tests and, and let you touch my wings, and all of that... will you let me go home after?"

Dr. Vaughn ran her fingers through his hair again, pleased that the avian was letting her touch him.

"If you are good and you let me do all of my tests I will see about letting you go home. Unfortunately, it's not up to me. My boss is the one who makes the decision, but if you're very very good I will let her know and maybe then we can take you home. Does that sound good?"

He hung his head.

"No."

But he couldn't do anything about it. He was drained. He didn't ask for his hands to be freed, or the collar to be removed. He was a lab rat now, and she would kill him if he was a bad one. He needed to be good, not because she deserved it, not because he wanted to, but so he could survive. He just needed to keep his head down and survive. Maybe she would let him send a letter home, or even call. What he wouldn't give to hear Loe's soft voice right now.

Dr. Vaughn wondered what the avian was thinking. He was obviously tired, having spent all of his energy with the flight and the panic. She knew he had earned a break. She needed him to remember why he was punished first, though. 

"Alright. What do you have to say?"

It took a long minute for him to answer. He had to think of the right answer, the answer a crazy person would expect to that question. And even when he got it, he was unwilling to say it, because he was too damn proud. But he remembered the feeling of water in his mouth, his nose, his ears-

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

taglist: @blood-and-regrets

lmk if you want to be added :)

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: Epilogue 1 (The Storm God's Name)

18+ Smut! With FEELINGS!

Younger Gods Master List

Morpheus x female!reader (this one specifically mentions female parts, so I've marked it female as opposed to fem)

Summary: Dream finally finds his name for the little storm god.

A/N: Several people asked for this while I was working on it, so cheers! Epilogue requests are still open.

Epilogue 1: The Storm God's Name

She’d been home for a week, with her rain and her wind and her tea.

Not that she wanted for tea in the Dreaming. After she woke, once she’d calmed - There was something around her neck – Taliesin sprang into action. He went to the kitchens personally, just to make her first cuppa after her ordeal with his own two hands.

He’d needed to do something.

And he’d needed an excuse to leave her alone with Dream.

Hot tears flooded her eyes, and she’d whimpered as they rolled in scalding lines down her cheeks. Embarrassed, but still too terrified to stop them, she laid helpless under Dream’s discerning eyes, trying to piece together the fractured end of her memories.

They hadn’t discussed what they shared as she slept. Not the whispers. Not the kiss.

But as he explained what happened after she lost consciousness on the beach, told her of the thorn that kept Alberich’s ghost tethered to her flesh and soul, he held her hands. He cleaned away the tears with long, slow strokes of cool fingers, and he hovered near as he soothed her through lingering caresses over her hair.

The promise held. The intent – though deferred by her mangled neck and flagging energy – remained.

Her recovery took two full months, and Taliesin rarely left her side for longer than it took to make a cup of tea. The Dream Lord only left when his duties called him away, and the relief in his eyes each time he returned to find her in the same state as he left her told her more than words ever could.

Every brush of knuckles, each lingering look assured her she hadn’t imagined the shift in their relationship. He cared for her like someone who already belonged to him, a lover, even though they’d only kissed once. In a dream at the edge of consciousness. He murmured praise and comfort when Taliesin changed her bandages and cared for her wounds. He gave her wounded looks if she so much as hesitated to eat. He simply kept her company, sitting at her side when fatigue weighed heavy, when she had nothing to say but didn’t want to be alone.

Eventually, the damage healed. She walked and talked and ran again, and when the bandages came off for the final time, he allowed her to leave. She had her own realm to attend to, and she was sure it had all gone brittle and dry without the rain.

Dream took her home with Taliesin in a whirl of sand, like phantom arms that cradled her safe and close on the trip between worlds. She was almost disappointed when they arrived outside her cottage.

But, before he left again, she dared reach for his hand first. Quickly, sprinting past her fears before they had time to persuade her she’d misinterpreted his care, that this was a border he’d not invited her to cross.

And instead of pulling away or throwing her off, he turned his hand in hers, palm to palm, and laced their fingers together.

“What is it?” He asked so softly, like he still had her blood crusted under his nails. Loss came too near for him to readily forget, and she wondered if the two months of cautious, continuous touches hadn’t been for her benefit alone. They’d both needed time to recover.

Perhaps, he still needed more.

She looked at their entwined hands. Felt his grip. His skin on hers. It was alright, she decided. He could have all the time in the world. She’d hold onto this, even in memory, while she waited.

“You have a key.”

“Yes.”

The word pooled like honey, and was it her imagination, or did his voice drop a little lower when he answered? She chanced a glance at his eyes – deep and dark, fixed on her, daring her to swim a little closer and be consumed. Gulping, she found she couldn’t look away, and she blinked – a little dazed – when he smirked at her reaction.

She still had things she very much wanted to say, though.

“Use it. When you can.” His thumb swept up her inner wrist, and she lost her train of thought for a moment. “Please.”

Using their linked hands, he urged her a step closer. If they lost any more space, more than hands would touch. Maybe that was the point, and when he leaned down to whisper in her ear, his unruly hair tickled her cheek.

“Wait for me.”

He barely pulled back, watching her, hungry for her answer. But his breath had rolled down her neck, and he remained close enough to smell – sandalwood and cedar, ripe pomegranates and orchids, a thousand things she couldn’t name. Only imagine.

It left her tongue-tied, and she could only nod. She would wait forever so long as she had his assurance he’d return. Forever and a day, even. It would be worth it.

He’d kissed her knuckles with that smirk and then disappeared to the Dreaming.

Inside, hands full of cups and kettle over a freshly laid fire, Taliesin asked, “Did he kiss you goodbye?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Speaking of fucking, you two should make plans to christen that bed you never sleep in.”

She threw the first thing in reach – a metal travel mug she liked to take on her longer walks – and it pinged off the wall by his head. A near miss. It only encouraged him, and they spent the better part of the first night turning the living space into a warzone rather than settling back in.

Despite that, the bard kept her company for three more days, checking and triple checking she was settled and comfortable. By the time he stepped off to the waking world – “Even I have affairs to consider every now and again. I’ll stop in and be a bother in a month or two” – her world had regrown. Fresh leaves on the trees, new moss creeping over the stone wall, and thunder in the distance.

It was quiet, though, on her own.

On the seventh day, officially a week into her wait for Dream to return, she took the old hang drum Taliesin once brought to keep them entertained for a long winter and set it outside. She needed a voice other than her own.

The turtle-shaped instrument sang under the rain.

A random melody hummed through the metal, each note rippling over the next as precipitation struck the drum, overlapping like rings in a pond. It glittering with rounded droplets clinging to the places they fell, reflecting the overcast sky. Rainfall pattered in the background. On the roof, over the stone walkway, into the grass. A full orchestra for her to enjoy.

She sat in the open doorway to listen. To breathe in the fresh air, kept dry by a precious few inches of overhanging roof.

She couldn’t see which divots the water struck, and it made the song a mystery. Something apart from her. It could’ve been alive. A magic she didn’t control or create. Hypnotizing. Just the ticket for a lonely afternoon.

As she sat appreciating her new musical friend, the hang drum, the lock rattled in the door behind her. She jumped to her feet, just inside, clearing the way as it swung shut and sealed the magical link connecting her cottage to whatever door in whatever world the key-user came from. She could still hear the soft reverberations of the song outside through the windows, but the space behind the door when quiet as the key turned.

It was too early for Taliesin’s return. Hope and excitement fluttered in her heart. In her belly.

Hinges creaked, and a pale hand appeared, resting on the latch. Framed in her doorway, Dream looked like… well… a dream. In the moment before he stepped through and closed the door, she could see a glimpse of his realm, and their two worlds merged. Only for a heartbeat, but she liked the idea of it, that they were so close. Only a room away, without the void and long roads between.

She realized she’d let the silence sit a little too long, just staring up into his bright eyes, lost to her thoughts. Heat swept up her neck, and she looked down, chewing her lip. Her embarrassment couldn’t kill her blooming smile, though.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice turned each syllable golden sweet, reaching deep to strike sparks over ready fuel. He stepped a little further into the room. She hadn’t left the place she jumped to when the door swung shut, and that one little step brought him very close indeed.

His polished black boots gleamed, inches away from her bare toes. If she didn’t look up now, she might never find the courage, so she threw back her head, lifting her chin. So she could see him. So he could see her.

He cocked his head, eyeing her like a raven with something shiny left unattended. The smirk crept back, rising to his eyes, shifting his entire posture as the hang drum played through the growing rain. It wasn’t a tune to dance to, barely a tune at all, but it tugged at her soul, and she imagined Dream could see it floating in her eyes, unmoored and reaching.

His stars glowed in reply.

“I still have no name by which to call you.” He spoke softly, the edge of self-satisfied amusement at what he could do to her without brushing a hair on her head overshowed by a deeper, gentler interest.

The intensity left her heart a fluttering mess, and her smile flickered wide, unsteady but hopeful.

“Are you asking for one?”

Somehow, he moved closer.

“Yes.”

She sidled back, a little overwhelmed by her fizzing feelings and the heat sneaking its way through her core. Instinct and habit drove the move, but when he followed her, eyes darkening, she realized she’d started a game.

“That isn’t how it works.”

As if he didn’t know, as if he hadn’t heard the name his own raven gave her, he raised his eyebrows.

“No?”

Shaking her head, she caught a giggle halfway up her throat. Was she supposed to laugh? Would he be offended? She continued the teasing exchange, with word and deed as she moved backwards, deeper into the cottage.

“No.”

Her back met a wall, and jolting clarity shot through her glee like lightning. Even as her body turned warm, as her dawning hunger tried to drive logic from her remaining thoughts, she recognized all the conversations they hadn’t shared.

She didn’t know how to ask him. If he wanted what she wanted. If this was real and good or a fantasy that could destroy her. She thought she knew, but she also spent years thinking herself free of the collar. Maybe she was weak and needy, but only he could tell her, and she desperately needed reassurance beyond a beautiful dream in the wake of a brush with death.

While she tried keeping her tone light, flirtatious, her vulnerability crept over the words like a whisper. “You have to give me one.”

Closing all the distance she’d put between them, having followed her across the room with wildly different intent than the last time he’d cornered her alone like this, Dream took a deep breath and lifted his hand. It settled along her jaw, holding it up so she wouldn’t bow to temptation and study their feet again.

“Then I must think carefully.” The faintest pressure guided her face to the side, then back again, like he’d find the right name written in freckles or baby hairs along her skin. Or maybe, the hunger in his eyes suggested, he was looking for the best place to begin his meal. She was sure he felt her trembling, and she hoped he knew it wasn’t from fear.

“I confess, I’ve considered many in the past days, but – I know what name I must call you.” He inched nearer and nearer as he spoke, until his breath whispered over her lips. His eyes moved from her mouth to her eyes and back again, face bent in concentration. Here was something important, a line he couldn’t step back from once crossed. Terrible, beautiful, and binding.

His thumb swept up her cheek, an echo of his care during her recovery, of the promise without words.

The time had come for those words. Or – at least – one.

He hovered near enough to kiss, the void between them as thin as the boundaries between their worlds. With both hands on her face, keeping her close, on the verge of pulling her closer, he gave her a name.

“Beloved.”

She surged forward to meet him in their second kiss, and like he’d been waiting for her permission, his hands moved from her face, slipping over her arms and under her ribs. His broad grip curled around her waist. Holding her like something of his. With equal measures of care and possessiveness, he brought her flush with his chest, so all she could see when she looked up was his face, his endless eyes twinkling above her when she broke away to breathe. Each breath pushed her chest against his, and the flowing heat within curled, burning hotter as it stole the air she’d just reclaimed.

He only gave her a moment before demanding more. His lips glided over hers, shaping to match, moving to find new angles, inventive ways to coax her into a sigh to he could slip his tongue past her guard. Not that her guard was up, exactly, but he had the benefit of experience, and he wielded it well, introducing new depths and sensations before she had a hope of recovering from the last.

Clearly, he planned on making her his beloved in both word and deed that day.

His steady hands guided her back as he continued his mission to kiss her senseless. He did such a good job, she didn’t realize they’d entered her bedroom until he broke away to close the door. She didn’t have a chance to miss his touch – he grabbed her like the parting burned him.

Her hands fluttered over his shoulders, his chest, up his neck to his hair. Finally, one palm caressed his cheek, and he broke the kiss again to press his lips against her fingers. One arm curled around her back, hand splayed between her shoulder blades, trying to hold as much of her as he could. It reminded her of the night in the chime woods, when he’d tried to comfort her in the storm. This time, though, there was no caution, no hesitation in his touch. It wasn’t an offering of support, but a demand for more.

Looking down at her through his lashes, he translated the demand from touch to language.

“May I have you?” He kissed her palm. “Beloved.”

She worried for a second that she couldn’t speak, that she’d lost the ability somewhere between the front door and her room. But she licked her lips – he eyed the motion with interest – and managed an answer.

“Yes. If I may have you.”

A third kiss to her open hand, and he took a half-step back. His nimble fingers worked down to the hem of her bulky sweater, and lifted it up, over her head, encouraging her to lift her arms so he could take it off in a single, swift move. Goosebumps raced down her arms, and she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra under her camisole as her nipples took sharp and sudden objection at the change in temperature.

But his hands didn’t return to lift the second hem. They rested on her neck. Over her scarf.

Oh.

She stiffened, but his hands stayed soft, waiting for permission as he peered into her eyes. He knew what he was doing. He understood the pain and discomfort hiding under the fabric. One of her few lingering fears.

“May I?”

She could say no. She even considered it. But she knew why he was asking, and it wasn’t to humiliate her, to dig up new secrets to gawk and laugh over. Hadn’t he seen her scars already? He’d helped Taliesin with her bandages often enough.

She’d seen him literally naked and afraid in the chariot. That was a special kind of vulnerability he hadn’t volunteered, but he’d accepted what she’d seen. Accepted her. And now he wanted to be the safe harbor for her own fears. He wanted to have her. All of her. Even this.

This time, she really couldn’t find her words. She took his hand and tentatively guided it to one end of the scarf, showing him where to begin, and softly nodded her consent.

He accepted her permission with all the gravity it was owed, tenderly lifting the mask she hid behind one loop at a time. He pulled it over her head, unspooling it carefully so it didn’t drag over her sensitive scars. Inch by inch, he revealed the grisly horror the collar had made of her neck. On a deep, personal level, it represented every bad thing to ever happen in her life. On a shallow, but just as personal level, she knew it was ugly, and she really, really didn’t want to be ugly in his eyes.

When the tail end finally fell away from her skin, her hands turned to fists, resisting the urge to cover what he’d revealed. She missed her sweater sleeves.

He soothed the urge on her behalf. When he swooped in, she expected a kiss, but he slipped past her mouth, under her jaw, to the whorls and bumps of flesh torn, healed, and torn again too many times to count. His lips brushed over the mess.

It felt wonderful, like a burst of sun on a cloudy winter day, and she gasped, seizing the lapels of his coat as she melted into him.

Smiling against her skin, he pressed firmer, open-mouthed kisses from chin to ear, lavishing every mark he could reach with equal attention. He held her to him by the hips, squeezing, running the tips of his fingers along the narrow strip of skin between jeans and top.

She only realized he’d hiked her cami up to her chest when his knuckles dragged along the outer curve of her breast. The tiniest moan escaped, and Dream lifted his head so she could actually see his smirk this time.

The camisole came off. His hands returned. They settled on her back, and she escaped the chill inside his embrace, though she couldn’t help noticing how many clothes he still had on as his fingertips wandered in growing circles.

They were moving again, and this time she could guess where. As they approached the bed, his lips worked over her naked shoulder, dropping little kisses and licks while his hands swooped along her sides. With every step, they came closer to their goal.

Her knees folded when she hit the side of the bed, but Dream caught her, hands close enough to shift and support her head and neck as he lowered her.

Galaxies swirled in his eyes as he followed.

He balanced with one hand planted on the covers beside her head. The other slipped from her back to drag over her stomach. It made her aware of her breathing, the pull of her diaphragm, the rise and fall of her chest.

Watching his fingers’ progress as they moved, pausing to explore every curve and dip on their aimless journey, he hummed, thoughtful, like he was still rational enough to consider his options. Then again, he wasn’t the one sprawled half-naked under one of the most beautiful entities to draw breath.

With her heart lodged in her throat, she whispered, reaching out to return his touch – somewhere, anywhere. “Dream.”

He hesitated, only for a beat, but she pushed herself onto her elbows to chase the thought behind it.

“is there another name I should call you?” Following his example, she kissed his neck, just under his ear. “What do you want to hear?”

A single, great shudder rolled down his spine, and he pressed her back into the mattress with his lips tracing her collarbone. A careful study, he didn’t miss a thing, not a bit of skin or her catch of breath when his teeth scraped a delicate nerve.

“Morpheus. Call me Morpheus, Beloved.”

He sat back to shuck off his coat – finally – and set to work on her jeans. She didn’t really have time to help, and he pressed a kiss just below her belly button, encouraging her to remain still as he pulled both remaining layers off in a fluid tug.

Bare and desperate to have him close again, she held out her hands, beckoning. Nearly begging.

“Morpheus.”

All dark, smug elegance, he tugged his shirt over his head and crawled over her, caging her so she felt less exposed but twice as vulnerable. A kiss set the blaze inside roaring, like gasoline on a bonfire, and she sank her fingers into his shockingly soft hair to keep his lips dancing with hers. She arced against him, against silky moonlight skin, and felt the last of her caution dripping away. Her doubts and concerns melted like ice. He saw all of her. Desired all of her. She ached for him, and nothing else really mattered.

As if he could feel her growing confidence in the permission she’d already given him, his hands grew bolder, holding her fast and hunting for places that made her twitch and groan into his kiss.

She’d become the hang drum. He became the rain, teaching her to sing with every touch.

He palmed a breast, and her gasp broke their lip lock, so he moved down her neck, soothing the old hurts with tingling flame, gliding down her collarbone, along her sternum, until he captured her other nipple in his mouth.

She writhed, all instinct and sensation as he teased her, working her tender flesh with a firm hold. His tongue flicked over her peak, and her back bowed off the bed. Wherever her breath had gone, she was pretty sure it was never coming back. But that was alright. She could live without it. So long as he didn’t stop.

His free hand settled on a knee, urging her clamped thighs apart. Something else she’d done without realizing. But she trusted him. She wanted him, and when she let her legs fall open, the cool air on her naked sex sent heat spiraling through her core.

When he actually touched her, stroking ever-so-softly through her folds, her chest seized, and she gaped at the ceiling, breathless.

Dream’s mouth left her, kissing life back into her slack mouth before he whispered, “Breathe, Beloved.”

It took a minute, but she managed, though he didn’t stop, and his inquisitive fingers nearly pushed the air from her lungs all over again when he found her clit. She knew what lightning felt like, had carried it in her blood and bone when she came to find him in the chariot. His fingertips sent similar shocks all the way to her fingers and toes as he played with her.

He huffed a little laugh, practically glowing with mirth as he peered at her through his lashes. Sly, like he knew a secret. One long digit caressed her entrance, summoning more white hot bolts to lance under her skin.

“I see it is raining here, too.”

Groaning, she demanded another kiss, crossing the short distance that felt like miles to reach his lips. If he was going to taunt her, he could put his mouth to better use. But he was still smiling, even as he bent to her request. Between each press, as he gave her space to breathe, he mused.

“What sounds will you make, I wonder?”

As if she wasn’t making plenty already. His thumb circled her sensitive nub, soothing even as he forced her higher, stoking the flame to new heights.

“Will there be a tempest? Will you summon thunder when I pull your first release from you?”

Just the thought had her shuddering. Would she come apart like this, on his hand? He plucked her to pieces to easily, drive all thought of what she was supposed to do in this situation from her mind, of how to answer his teasing questions, how to return the sparks dancing in her veins.

Rain lashed against the window, not quite a storm, but building to one, and when he slipped that curious finger past her entrance, she was sure he was right. Her soul stirred the clouds outside, bursting with passion and joy as her Dream Lord explored her. He pushed deep, and she grabbed his shoulders, desperately trying to ground herself as the finger withdrew, petting her from the inside out, looking for the spot that would have her seeing stars.

His slow pace encouraged her to grind against him, to move in time with his wrist. Another second finger pushed inside, and her garbled moan brought his kisses to her neck, like he could capture the next sound before it reached her mouth.

The maelstrom inside pulsed, winding like the arms of a hurricane around a bright, perfect center.

It felt like panic, only warmer, a rush towards rather than a flight from.

A curl of his fingers summoned her end, and she shattered in the sweetest way. This time she didn’t have to beg for a kiss. He devoured her, digits still buried, stroking through each clenching aftershock as she came back to herself. His free hand stroked her face, and when they broke apart, it remained, smoothing away a few stray hairs as she beamed into his endless eyes.

And lost herself all over again.

She felt warm, and safe, and happy. And if she let herself stop and think she may actually cry about it.

“Beloved,” he purred. “You are exquisite.”

Tracing his high cheekbones, his kiss-flushed lips, his dark brows, she whispered, “So are you.”

Nuzzling close, foreheads touching, he pulled his fingers free. While she trembled at the loss, he quickly shed the rest of his clothes and maneuvered between her legs, covering her, sheltering her, giving her every inch of skin from shoulder to hip. His protection and his vulnerability pressed to her own.

They rested for a moment, listening to distant, satisfied thunder. It carried no threat, only the contentment of a great, invisible beast in the storm. Not that she was sated. Not yet. Not until she’d had him and knew she’d given him at least as much light and pleasure as he’d already offered.

He let her breathe as he rained kisses on her temples, her cheeks, the spot between her eyebrows, and when she was ready to continue, she only had to catch his wandering lips.

“Please.” She gave him another peck, shifting her head to a new angle, eager to find all the ways they fit together. “Morpheus.”

Instead of taking her word as a sign to grab her by the hips and chase his own high, both hands found her face again, and he peered down at her with the weight of all dreams in his expression. He looked at her like he’d found the most wonderful thing, and it was so beautiful it broke his heart. The way she felt when she realized her feelings, when she was sure he’d never reciprocate.

He wasn’t one to apologize. He wasn’t a creature to beg. And she hadn’t asked. She could, but she hadn’t. Maybe someday he’d grow the right phrase at the right time, but she’d already forgiven him, and he’d atoned in other ways.

But a flicker of fear swam through the awe in his eyes, like she’d suddenly remember a few good reasons to throw him off and run. Like she’d melt away in the rain. Disappear forever.

Like he didn’t already hold her heart.

Maybe he didn’t know.

She wanted his wicked smirk back. She wanted him to know.

Settling her hands over his, where they still cradled her face, she reminded him. “You have me.”

New galaxies burst to life in his eyes.

He pulled his hands away, turning so he could press their hands together, palm-to-palm, on either side of her head.

“I… let me show you.”

His hands spread wide, urging her fingers apart so his own could slide between, locking them fast as he rolled his hips, pushing inside.

Her heart – the one he’d so unassumingly stolen – stuttered, and he groaned, burying his face in her neck as he bowed over her. She clung to him, hands on his back, legs locked around his waist. She wanted to hold him, keep the feel of him in her and around her. She would do anything prolong that moment, the ultimate certainty that for the next breath they began and ended in a singular whole.

When he moved, she whimpered, kissing along his shoulder as muscles rippled under the skin there.

It was no longer a dance.

The tide had taken them.

Each thrust tangled with the intrinsic cycle of the moon and sea. Terrors of the deep reaching over and over towards the land, full of things unsaid and promises kept in whispers. Sunlight on undulating waves, washing through twined spirits on the cusp of oblivion.

The thunder of breakers crashing up high cliffs.

When she came apart again, she thought she could drown. Morpheus tumbled over the edge after her, mumbling praises in her ear as she held him in every possible way, buoying her from the heady dark of orgasmic bliss. Every good thing she felt pleased him in turn, and his after-glow illuminated her like the sun.

Gradually, they became two bodies again, but only just. He pulled her close, worshiping her as she recovered with tender strokes over her back, her sides, her neck. It was like he’d only be satisfied he hadn’t lost a part of her in the heat of the moment if he could touch it, soothe it. And when he was sure she was all together, he made her all his, pressed so tight to his chest she wondered if their heartbeats would synchronize.

He kissed the top of her head, and his voice carried through her like the waves of the ocean they’d just crossed.

“Sleep.”

Curled in his arms, she had no interest in resisting the invitation.

She fell asleep, the easiest rest of her life, and her Dream met her there.

Epilogue 2

[weepingfoxfury]

The Sunday man on the radio is not the usual man on the radio. How will we know ourselves? So far Cat Stevens is chasing moon shadows, Frank Sinatra has some advice on love and marriage and Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong have gone fishing. Weatherwise there's damp, followed by more damp, aaaand 'blink' that was the sunshine.

Today's groaner: I went running with my Bible ... Now my Psalms are all sweaty ;-D badoom tish ... here all week!!

The plants that were standing so proudly all round the water butt succumbed to the current heavy rain and winds and are all now taking a swim. The snails are delighted ... makes a tasty chompy change from the usual dead debris dinners.

One day I'll get up, go look at the water butt and there'll be a whole host of mini snail boats tacking back and forth ... a restaurant will have sprung up ... and there'll be tiny little billboards advertising the butt as 'the' go to place for all gastropods. (Shakes head and smiles) ... thankfully they're not as crazy as us hoomans ... (tilts head) ... but you never know.

Time for more coffee and the usual this, that and the other. Then later, as there's nothing on the TV but sport (which I hate), I'll be digging through my DVDs. It'll be as much a surprise to me as anyone else what I end up watching ...

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Sylph in the Storm

This story was what I originally planned to submit for this year's @inklings-challenge--a scene from my fantasy universe that's like a fairy tale version of Anne of Green Gables. I haven't finished it yet, and what I have is very rough, but I'd like to give you a taste of what I have so far.

#

I've lived on the Island all my life--my father was keeper of the Mary's Vale lighthouse, and I kept house for my brother when he assumed the role--and I've seen many strange things. Some of them the ordinary adventures of lighthouse life--storms and shipwrecks and sharks. Some of them are more magical--not many humans can say they've raised a mermaid from infancy.

I loved Amy from the moment I found her, but raising a mermaid had its difficulties. When Amy turned twelve, she became as truculent as any human child of that age, with the added difficulty of an increased fascination with the sea. I tried to give her as much freedom as was good for her, but Amy always tried to take more than her due.

It was an unusually warm day in late October, 1892, when the crisis came. I was irritable because I'd spent the morning chasing the pixies out of the pantry--they'd gotten into the sugar again--when Amy came traipsing up out of the ocean, rainbows glimmering on her pearlescent skin. I'd let her go for a swim before breakfast--mermaids do need to keep moist--and it was now well after noon.

"Where have you been?" I asked in a low tone.

Amy stopped in surprise. "You said I could swim!"

"For an hour. It's after noon. I don't have time to care for this house, and the lighthouse, and the meals, and chase you all over the face of the earth."

"I came back!"

"You knew you were dawdling. I give you clothing and meals and a roof over your head. It's not too much to demand a little help in return."

"If I'm so much trouble, you should have left me on that beach."

That got my blood up, and to my shame, I shouted, "Perhaps I should have!"

Amy stood as if I'd struck her.

I regretted the words immediately. I tried to apologize. "Amy, I--"

But Amy was already running down the path to the shore. I tried to chase after her, calling her name, but in moments, she was on the shore and she dove beneath the waves, swimming to the east just as fast as she could.

I called after her, to no avail, and at last, I trudged up the winding stairs back to the lighthouse. We'd both spoken in anger, and our tempers would cool with time.

I went to the gardens and pulled out dead vines with vigor, pouring out my fury through my work. My emotions ran high--fury one moment, remorse the next. I swung from planning the lectures I would give upon her return to crafting apologies.

But the garden cleared, the sun sank lower, and still there was no sign of Amy.

At the sight of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, I grew frantic. I called on my aunt down the shore, but she hadn't seen Amy. When I came back to the house, I found Captain Avery had come by to help Edmund with the light, and I raced toward him, frantic as I babbled out the story of Amy's flight.

"Can we take out the boat?" I asked.

"All we'd do is wreck ourselves, and for no good purpose," the captain said. "There's no telling if she is still at sea, or where she went if she did."

"She could dive below the waters where we couldn't see her," Aunt pointed out.

The truth stretched out before me--vast and hopeless. Amy could be anywhere--curled up somewhere in the Island, lost in the Atlantic--and I could do nothing to help.

"Is there nothing we can do?" I cried.

Rain burst from the clouds above--a cold drizzle, blown about by the gusting wind.

Aunt led me toward the house. "We can wait," she said. "And pray."

#

A cup of tea steamed before me as I sat at the kitchen table. Aunt urged me to change my wet clothes, to sit in front of the fire, to warm myself with the tea, but I couldn't move. All I could hear was the howling storm--driving rain, angry winds, the blaring horn at the lighthouse, thunder that sounded like the end of the world. All I could see was my mermaid girl, washed up and broken on a lonely shore somewhere.

It was after just such a storm that I'd found Amy, nearly twelve years before--a tiny wet bundle wrapped in seaweed. Her mother had been several paces down the shore, singing out her daughter's name with the last of her strength, and begging my help with her dying breaths. Was this how I'd repaid her hope in me? Driven her daughter out to sea to be destroyed in a storm as she'd been? 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see the bearded face of the captain looking down upon me, much as my father had once upon a time. "You're singing," he said.

With astonishment, I found that I was--a flowing tune so familiar that it sprang to my lips without thought. "Amy's name," I explained.

The explanation was unnecessary. It was the captain who'd explained it to me, in those early days when he helped me to care for the baby merrow. Every mer's full name was a song--names upon names detailing family histories, connections to other clans, great deeds of long ago ancestors. The captain knew a fair amount of the merrow tongue, and we'd puzzled together over the meaning of the tune that had stuck in my memory after just one hearing. Amy had a family, a lineage, that we knew nothing about. Now, all she had was us.

The lines on Captain Avery's weathered face were deeper than ever. If Amy had a grandfather, the Captain filled the role. He had helped me keep her alive in those early days, and, I realized, he loved her as deeply as I did, worried as deeply as ever I could, even if his face didn't show it.

"She'll be well," the captain said. "Amy's got a good weather eye. She'll have come ashore before the storm hit, or gone below where the sea is calmer."

I shook my head, trying to banish the image of Amy's broken body. "But what if she didn't?" I asked.

"There are always miracles. I've seen them before."

I stared into my tea, trying not to snap. This was no time for the captain's stories of sylphs and sea kings.

"We can't count on that."

"No, but we can pray."

I tried to. Truly, I did. But I could find no words, no hope, to penetrate the gray despair of my mind, the roiling power of the raging storm. For what felt like a week, I sat there, misery seeping between the seconds and stretching out time to unbearable lengths.

I was dimly aware of Aunt tending to the fire in the parlor, and Captain Avery going to the tower to offer assistance to Edmund, and coming back soaking wet, but nothing truly roused me from my misery until I heard a strange voice from outside.

"Ahoy!"

Aunt and I both jumped.

"Edmund?" I asked.

"Couldn't be," Aunt said.

Captain Avery shook his head. "He'd never leave the light in a storm like this."

"Ahoy!" cried the voice that was most definitely not Edmund's. "Anybody home?"

I rushed to the kitchen door and flung it open. A strange young man stood on the threshold. I could barely see him in the darkness of the storm, but there in his arms was my mermaid girl--safe and whole and sound asleep.

"I believe," the man said, "that she belongs to you."

"Amy!" I breathed.

"I found her on the shores of Selkie Island," the man said.

At least, I thought he did, but I assumed I'd misheard. In the time since she'd left, Amy could barely have swum to Selkie Island. It was impossible that this man could already have brought her back--especially in such a storm.

I welcomed him into the house and rushed him into the parlor, glad that Aunt already had a fire blazing in the little hearth. I made a nest of blankets on the floor and urged the man to lay her down. He moved through the room with such speed and grace, as if she--or he--weighed nothing at all.

I stepped back to give him space, and he moved between me and the fire. Then the firelight revealed what the night had hidden. Though the man stood as tall and real and human as any of us, the light shone through him.

Amy had been rescued by a sylph.

I fell back against the wall, dizzy with shock. I felt as if I'd fallen into one of the captain's fireside tales. A sylph, a spirit of the air--one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, so rare that even on the Island, some people doubted their existence--stood within my little lighthouse parlor.

No one breathed, no one moved.    We all just stared, struck motionless by awe and fear, because this solution, miraculous as it was, meant that Amy had been in far more danger than even I had feared.   

Sylphs are like the wind, the legends say, unheard and unseen, rushing about the world to do as much good as they can in the three hundred years allotted them.  Direct intervention is rare.    It takes too much time, too much energy, when a simple, passing bit of magic will help humans solve the problem on their own.    The sylph could have hurried the storm along, or moved a few trees to shelter Amy until she could swim home, or let us know where we could find her when the storm ended.    But he had come to her direct aid.    He had taken form to bring her home.  How badly had Amy been hurt, that she couldn't wait an hour or two for aid?

Aunt was the first to speak. "Was she hurt very badly, sir?"

The sylph ran his fingers gently through Amy's red hair.  His hand seemed as solid as a flesh one.  “Broken in a few places,” he said.  “It seems as though she'd misjudged some currents and been dashed upon the bathing rocks.    She wasn't in pain long—I reached her after a few moments."

My throat tightened. "Is she...?" I knelt at her side and examined her in a panic.

The sylph stilled me with a hand on my shoulder. "I healed her injuries. She needs only rest now."

Amy was whole--pure and perfect. Even the scar on her leg--from when she'd fallen from that tree last summer--had faded to perfect skin.

I looked into the sylph's face. I'd never seen such kind eyes. "I don't know how to thank--"

From the lighthouse, the foghorn sounded, drowning out the last of my words.

The sylph jumped, looked toward the lighthouse, and suddenly the sound faded away, as if it were coming from far out at sea.

The sylph answered my look of astonishment by saying, "She needs rest."

I stroked Amy's hair and nodded. What had she suffered, while she'd been away? What had driven her the miles and miles to Selkie Island's shore?

“Sarah,” the Captain said suddenly, “could you pour some tea for our guest?"

Tea? For a sylph?  I didn't understand how he could consume anything, but the Captain knew about these sorts of things.  And when faced with the question of what one did with a sylph in the parlor, tea seemed as sensible an answer as anything else.

The sylph stood and tried to decline. "That's very kind, but you needn't..."

The Captain's face was as firm as it ever could have been when he'd commanded a ship.    “You've form enough to take food, and you're tired enough to need it.”

“I can't take repayment...”

“Good,” the Captain replied, “because none of us have any hope of repaying you.  But you need to allow us our gratitude, and you'll need nourishment before you can do much else.”

The sylph humbly nodded his head. "Very well."

"Sarah," the Captain said, looking at me. "Tea. And whatever food you can find."

I brough the sylph a fresh cup of tea from the kitchen, then offered him a seat in the softest chair in the lighthouse. He accepted the seat--not sinking into the cushions at all--and sipped the tea, then asked the captain, "Met sylphs before, have you?"

“I'm a sailor,” Captain Avery replied.    

The sylph nodded as if that explained all, and I suppose it did.    A ship's home was among the winds on the open sea, and so was a sylph's.    And if the stories are trues--I was beginning to suspect they were--sylphs were more likely to intervene for those who are far from any human help.

We hadn't much food in the lighthouse, but between the two of us, Mrs. Avery and I managed a to put a respectable spread--thick slices of bread, boiled eggs, the remains of two kinds of cake, my prize-winning pickles--on the small parlor table. The sylph watched with eager astonishment, like a child at a circus, unwilling to miss a single delight.

When I set out three jars of jam, his face lit up with delight. He seized a teaspoon, placed it in the nearest jar, and had a spoonful of blackberry preserves in his mouth before he caught himself.

He set down the spoon and gave me a questioning gaze. "May I?"

I smiled. "Take as much as you like."

The sylph spooned three dollops of jam into his tea and one into his mouth.    

When the food was spread, I settled on the floor next to Amy, who still slept peacefully.

"She will be well," the sylph assured me, and it sounded like the voice of pure truth. "Will you join me?" he asked. "I prefer not to eat alone."

How could I resist such an invitation? I tucked some blankets around Amy, pulled in some kitchen chairs, and invited Aunt and the captain to sit. Then, unbelievable as it sounds, we all dined with a sylph. It felt like a dream; if the captain and Aunt didn't remember it, I may have been able to convince myself it was.

Despite his light, transparent form, the sylph was able to eat and drink like any creature.    When the food entered his mouth, it disappeared from sight, just as it did for us opaque creatures.    He didn't chew much, but he imitated the motion, as he seemed to understand it was the proper thing to do.    And he could certainly taste—he savored each bite, and delighted in flavors.    He combined flavors with extreme creativity—butter in his tea, ham atop slices of cake, salt and pepper on buttered bread, jam on anything he could spread it on—and found satisfaction with everything.    

As we ate, the sylph spoke of his travels--marvels in the Orient, the Pacific, great cities, vast deserts, both poles. Yet he never chattered, never boasted. He seemed happier to hear someone else speak, delighting in hearing about the ordinary details of our lives. He listened more fully than any creature I've ever known, giving his full attention to each word, even if he was also spreading jam on a boiled egg at the time.     

That was the paradox of the sylph.   When he listened, he seemed so calm and wise that I was certain he must be one of the oldest sylphs in the world.    Yet, as he ate jam by the spoonful or marveled at the light of the fire, he seemed to be the youngest person in the room.    Such a combination of wisdom and innocence is impossible to describe, but a joy to experience.    Neither wisdom nor innocence allows for pettiness, cruelty or anything small-minded, only for joy and wonder, respect and understanding.    

The spread, though small, filled all four of us nearly to bursting, and I filled a plate for Amy, in case she woke hungry. Even in such happy circumstances, I wouldn't be completely easy until Amy woke.

The sylph was speaking to the captain about the progress of the storm, when suddenly his eyes flickered, and he turned his gaze toward Amy. He burst into a smile. "You're awake!"

Slowly, Amy rose from her nest of blankets on the floor, her red hair tangled in a cloud around her head. She blinked sleepily and looked around the room.

"Amy!" I cried in joy. I rushed to her side. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't even look at me. Her eyes went straight to the sylph. "How did I get here?" she asked.

“I brought you,” said the sylph.

Quick as lightning, Amy rose from the floor. Faster than any of us could comprehend, she stood, approached the sylph, and then slapped him across the face.

[sass-squat]

I love your wing au so much!!! I like to imagine Wind, Four and the other smaller members of the chain like to huddle under the wings of the bigger boys for warmth and comfort.

Do you have any other headcanons of the boys in your wing au to share?

AHHHH!!! Thank you!!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far!!! But oh my god yes!!! They for sure cuddle and huddle under the bigger boys wings all the time! Some more willingly than others tho lol  😂

But of course! I ALWAYS have more headcanons to share I'm so glad that you asked!

Linked Universe Winged Au Headcanons:

Time - I briefly went over this in the Preening post I made a little while back, but Time is oftentimes kind of the "safety net" for the other boys. Whether it's helping them hide from the wrath of the other members of the group or simply staying awake through the night to make sure they rest, Time is always there to support and catch his boys whenever and however they need him. However, he very rarely is the one to initiate physical contact and prefers to simply wait for the others to come to him. This is because he can have a tendency to be a bit overbearing and overprotective, and after the incident with Wind, he's had to learn to step back a little and trust that his boys will come to him when they need him. Because of this, he only initiates contact when he deems it absolutely necessary. He's also got the biggest wings in the group by far which makes him perfect for cuddles and an excellent shield from the rest of the world for those hidden beneath them.

I also headcanon that he secretly really hates the rain. He may have the Song of Storms at his beck and call, but it turns out that giant, soggy wings combined with heavy armor isn't very pleasant to try to travel, fly, or fight with. However, despite his own general dislike of the rain, he does not hesitate to sacrifice himself and his wings to be an umbrella of sorts for others in the group, especially the younger ones.

He's also VERY good at climbing trees. The guy grew up in a magic forest with a giant tree for a dad of COURSE he's good at climbing trees. The first time he beat Wild in a race left the rest of the group in complete and utter awe. He may be the oldest of the Links, but he's still got plenty of tricks up his sleeves.

Twilight - Twilight is the ultimate big brother and no you cannot change my mind. However, this means that he does have the big brother tendency to give noogies whenever he hugs people and overall just abuses his larger size to flop all over the others. Basically imagine that scene with Nani in Lilo & Stitch where she falls on top of Lilo claiming that gravity was increasing on her. That scene combined with the energy from large dogs who are convinced that they are actually lap dogs. That's Twilight. He's got a lot of love to give and often makes great efforts to ensure that everyone gets it regardless of their protests or if they actually want it at the moment. However, even though he does tend to show his affection in sometimes sillier ways, he can be very serious and will not hesitate to either push the others out of harms way or literally pull them closer under his wings when needed. In other words, while he's a bit of an overgrown puppy at times, he's also got a powerful bite to match his bark.

As for random headcanons, I headcanon that whenever Twilight gets wet he has a subconscious tendency to shake out his hair and/or wings like a dog. Gone for a swim? Shake. Coming inside to get out of the rain? Shake. Someone threw a bucket of water at him? Shake. While overall a harmless quirk, it has resulted in a lot of laughing (Wild) and cursing (Legend) from the others. He always tries to claim that he does it because he's just trying to get an early start on preening and drying off (no one believes him).

Sky - Sky is an absolute MASTER when it comes to cuddling. No one can resist his charm and those that try often find themselves gently persuaded under his wings regardless. He's got very large, fluffy wings that make cuddling ideal and has a tendency to "scoop" the others under his wings. He also has a habit of treating everyone who comes to him as his, "baby birds" regardless of their age or size. While it is very cute to see younger members like Wind or Hyrule tucked under his wings, it does make for a very funny sight when he does it to Time or Warriors. On top of that, Sky is also well known for his "magic wings" that can make anyone fall asleep when huddled beneath them.

A silly little headcanon I have about Sky is that he oftentimes "fluffs up" whenever he wakes up or falls asleep. It usually makes his hair, wings, and overall appearance appear very disheveled and the others like to tease him for it, especially since he's one of the main Links who insists on preening the others.

He also really likes fish. No other explanation for it other than he never had the chance to try it before leaving Skyloft and is equally fascinated and horrified by all the different varieties.

Warriors - I headcanon that he's not actually a huge cuddler the majority of the time! However, he does secretly love it whenever Time silently pulls him under his wings. This is because I believe Warriors generally has a hard time asking for help due to his history as a military leader where any sign of weakness can risk causing doubt or disloyalty within troops. On top of that, he also has the, "I'm the hero" complex which means that he generally prefers to help and comfort others rather than ask for help or comfort in return. Because of this, he loves it when the others (especially Wind) come to him and tuck themselves into his side because he gets to feel needed while still secretly finding and receiving comfort in return. The rest of the group know this, so they often purposefully position themselves near him to subtly help him whenever they can tell he's especially stressed or upset.

I headcanon that Warriors is actually an excellent musician, especially when it comes to the violin. Everyone always talks about how Legend is an excellent musician, but I feel like no one considers the possibility of other members of the group also having musical talents. Also he's a momma's boy. You take one look at that man and tell me you DON'T think he was a momma's boy. In this essay I will-

Legend - Legend is a prickly little shit when it comes to cuddling. He generally pretends that he doesn't like it when in reality his inner child is SCREAMING for someone to look after him for a change. However, instead of confronting those emotions like a mature individual he usually chooses to project them onto the younger members of the group instead. He's been nicknamed the "broody hen" of the group for this behavior as it often results in him being especially prickly and almost possessive of the others, especially Hyrule and Wind. However, when he IS forcibly pulled under wing he has a tendency to essentially "burrow" like a rabbit into the other persons side. He does in fact, hate that he does this as it reminds him of his "cowardly bunny heart" but the others all secretly find it adorable.

Legend's handwriting is HORRIBLE. He may be able to SPEAK several languages, but writing them is a whole other story. I also headcanon that this is due in part to him developing some sort of hand tremor that started when he and his ship got blasted with lightning in Links Awakening. He's trained himself to not let it affect his fighting skills, but writing is ROUGH.

Hyrule - Hyrule absolutely soaks up physical affection like a sponge. He's basically been alone his entire life and has had countless monsters chasing him for his blood for the majority of his life let him have his rest and hugs. Because of this, he absolutely adores cuddling and being cuddled in return! However, even though he loves it when others comfort and preen him, he finds it a bit frustrating that the others don't often come to him for comfort in return. He knows that they (usually) won't hesitate to come to him whenever they need his magic for physical healing, but it does hurt his feelings a bit that they don't often come to him for emotional healing. He's a bit like Wind in that regard where he wishes that they would trust him more.

As for silly headcanons, I'm a firm believer that Hyrule would eat sidewalk chalk if given the opportunity. I can't exactly explain why, but I feel like he would because he believes that sidewalk chalk and Smarties taste the same.

Wild - Wild is a bit of a complicated case in the way that he will gratefully accept any and all hugs and cuddles, but rarely asks for them. Listen, the guy may be able to speak after losing all his memories but some more personal things like asking for help are still a work in progress. Because of this, he loves it when other people are able to read him and determine his needs simply from what they see. However, because he loves this so much he will sometimes purposefully act out or behave in such a way that he knows will get the others to fuss over him rather than simply ask for cuddles. This is usually expressed in his preening habits or his general rough housing and teasing with the other members of the group.

I headcanon that he occasionally dreams of his past life before the Calamity. He very rarely actually remembers what it is his brain was trying to show him, so it often leaves him more upset than before he went to sleep because he feels like a failure for, "forgetting them twice."

On a less angstier note, I also headcanon that he would be stupidly good at Legos. Like, you know those kids that would build everything EXCEPT what they were "supposed" to build with the sets they received? That's exactly how Wild would be.

Four - Four is NOT a big fan of physical affection despite the others many attempts. He's a very independent person and often feels overwhelmed or claustrophobic when the others try to pull him in too close. The rest of the group have found that the best way to show physical affection towards him is through pats on the back/shoulders and hair ruffles rather than the usual flurry of feathers and hands. However, Four does love cuddling when he's split into well...Four individuals. He's much more comfortable cuddling with his other counterparts (and shadow) so it's a big adjustment getting used to the rest of the group all also trying to get close. He is getting better though! Right now his favorites are Time and Warriors because they keep to themselves and don't ask any hard questions.

I headcanon that Four is just perpetually cold. This guy does NOT handle the cold well and always has frozen toes and hands. The others complain about this often because he likes to touch them with his frozen limbs. Time is the most frequent victim of this.

Wind - This guy LOVES any and all kinds of physical affection EXCEPT for preening. He finds a lot of comfort in others tucking him under their wings and looking out for him, but hates it when others underestimate or try to coddle him because of it. He also finds a lot of joy in being a source of comfort for the others because he loves feeling needed and getting opportunities to be a "big" brother makes him feel like a real hero. As a warning though, he does have a tendency to tackle his victims he wants to cuddle with and even occasionally succeeds in full on knocking them over. He also kicks in his sleep. Sky discovered this the hard way.

As for other headcanons, I saw someone who reblogged one of my polls said that he puffs his feathers up a lot to appear bigger or more intimidating because he's seen it work with Time and Twilight. So yes, he does do this it's canon now but it's not very effective.

I also headcanon that Wind tends to flap his wings repeatedly whenever he gets really excited! It is very cute but there have also been many causalities as a result of this.

Bonus:

Ravio - He LOVES physical affection and has quite literally broken down Legend's house and emotional walls. He also frequently mimics sounds and voices and yes he does use this to bother Legend. Legend no longer trusts the sound of knocking because he assumes it's just Ravio messing with him. The tax collectors trying to contact him were not amused.

[steddiebang]

Tessellation

Author: @maryofdoom l Artist: @sparkle-fiend Posting on Friday, November 17

Steve is a knight. Steve wants to be rescued. Steve knows how to swim. Steve is tired of the ranch. Steve is pretty good at stitches. And Steve has been told that the Void is endless. Eddie wears a knight’s favor. Eddie is a tiefling bard who’s here to save the day. Eddie is a rusalka. Eddie has a way with horses. Eddie is about to bleed to death in the guest room. And Eddie has seen the Void from the other side. Six stories, six universes, ad infinitum. Steve and Eddie.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

This tale I shall tell you, Of Stephen of Harrington in Loch Nora, Of his friends and retainers, Those who in jest called him King. I shall tell you of his noble and selfless deeds, Of his prowess on the field of battle, Of his faithful companion Torsten de Henderson, To whom he gave wise counsel. And I shall tell you above all how he came to know Edward de Munson, whom he loved so much. —the Chronicle of Robin of Buckley

…On and on he went, and in his single-minded pursuit, he did not notice the forest as it changed. The old oak trees drew closer to the path, the moss grew thicker on the rocks, and a faint melody could be heard, like a harp played by the wind. As the path curved around a large rock, a small spring revealed itself, with a crystalline pool of water, no larger than a mill-pond, but inside it—floating there, among the water-lilies and fallen leaves—a young man with long dark hair, pale as death and with ink-black drawings on his arms visible through his fine linen shirt-sleeves.

Now Stefan Ivanovich was no stranger to water, for he had learned to swim in the wide river, and he dove in straightaway to save the young man from drowning. The pond was deeper than he had first thought, and the water was colder than the first breath of winter, but Stefan Ivanovich was sure of himself in the way of those who have never known real danger, and before long, both he and the young man were safely back on the forest floor. The young man coughed and spat and said—

"Thank you, Stefan Ivanovich."

And at this, Stefan Ivanovich forgot what he had intended to ask—which was how the young man came to be in the pond in the first place—and said instead, "How do you know who I am?"

"Everyone knows who you are."

“That may be so, but I do not know you.”

The young man smiled, soft as springtime and sweet as honey. “My name is Eddie.”

“There is no one by that name in the village.”

“And you know much of the village, Stefan Ivanovich?” Eddie pointed, not to the path that led out of the forest, but to the pond, and said, “Look there, and you will see how much you know.”

—The Tale of Stefan Ivanovich

*

“Another.”

Stellan sizes up the man at the bar before refilling the mug. It’s late and the rain outside shows no signs of stopping. The couple lingering at the weatherbeaten table in the center of the room lean in toward each other, the woman laughing at some private joke as she brushes a bit of strawberry blonde hair away from her face. Soft lute music comes from the far corner, where the shadowy figure who’s playing now has been nursing the same drink all night. But this man is the only other customer left inside the Hawk-in-Loch this evening. His hands are steady, though, and he looks at Stellan askance.

“Coming right up.”

He sets the full mug back down in front of the man and resumes wiping down the bar, but when he reaches the end, he stops and looks more closely at the customer in the corner, who’s playing the final notes of their song. They’re some distance away, and the lanterns do need to be cleaned, but it’s clear that the customer’s skin is a deep red. And it looks like…yes, those are horns on their head, black and curved and gracefully pointed.

Stellan’s heard of tieflings, of course, but it’s somewhat of a surprise to have one walk into the Hawk-in-Loch and spend the night playing the lute at the corner table.

—Show Some Initiative

*

Steve gave Nora one last pat and closed her stall door. He left the barn and walked alongside the corral. Eddie was inside, along with the tall black stallion they called Judas, for the way the horse could turn traitor in an instant. Eddie’s uncle, Captain Munson, lean and weathered like the fence rail on which his forearms rested, did not speak as Steve stopped next to him. The horse’s nostrils flared as Eddie approached, each regarding the other with cool suspicion. Steve was unconcerned, though, for he knew that Eddie had a way with animals of all shapes and sizes.

"How's he coming along?" Steve said.

"Your boy or the horse?" Captain Munson said. "Neither one's broke yet."

The brim of Captain Munson’s hat did not move, but Steve could tell that he was no longer watching Eddie and the horse. He was watching Steve, judging the effect of his words. Watching without appearing to watch was a useful technique in Captain Munson’s formidable arsenal. Steve wondered if Captain Munson had picked it up during his time with the Rangers and if it could be taught to someone who lacked that particular experience.

—A Change in Management

*

Steve gets to his feet to face the source of the voice. Another black-clad figure, helmeted and painted like the others. This one’s design, now that he can see more clearly, is a massive horned demon’s head, tongue lolling, fangs dripping. “Look, I’ll give you whatever you want, just let the rest of them go—”

“You honestly think I’m going to kill them?” 

“I don’t know who the hell you are!”

“And who the hell are you?”

By now Steve has gone from fear to fury. “I’m Steve Harrington, the captain of this ship, and you—you are—are a—”

But when the demon takes off its helmet, he’s stunned into silence. For a moment Steve doesn’t believe it, because that fall of dark hair, those deep brown eyes, and that otherworldly pallor are like something dredged up from his subconscious. But it is none other than Eddie Munson, in the flesh, standing before him.

“Who am I, Steve?” Eddie says, quietly, in his real voice.

—Unavoidable

*

“You ever think…” Eddie trails off. Steve looks out at the trees beyond the fence, bare branches against the cloudless sky. The haze is turning golden as the light changes.

“Think what?”

“If there’s anything else.”

“What do you mean, ‘anything else’?” Steve tilts his head ever so slightly to look at Eddie, out of the corner of his eye. “You and I both know there’s something else.”

“I don’t mean that,” Eddie says, “and I don’t mean that either,” and he points up at the sky. “What if…” A prolonged inhale. “There’s a world somewhere out there where we won?”

“Like a different dimension?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Eddie exhales and it sounds like a sigh. “Or maybe a world where none of this happened at all.”

—Going Dark

Read more on November 17!

[outpost51]

Crossing Over

For @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt: “Sink or Swim”

Consider it the fifth installment of the lighthouse keeper shorts.

Rating: Mature

CW: peril, drowning

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I meant nothing to the sea.

Humans were supposed to be more buoyant in water.

No one filled the open ocean in on that fact.

I told them we should have headed home long before the sun set — we had time to get back then, and we still had time when I told them again, and again, and then... and then the fog rolled in. The sun dipped below the far-off rocks we thought belonged the little fishing village from which we'd left. We could just keep sailing forward, they told me. Eventually we would be home, but until then, why not kick back, enjoy the trip for once.

How enjoyable is the trip now, James, I thought, with your dad's expensive sailboat in pieces and the tide ripping us one-by-one away from the sharp rocks that turned out not to be the fucking fishing village?

I held out the longest. My boyfriend and his idiot friends probably would have attributed it to how high strung I was, but it was more likely because I was the only one who hadn't been drinking. There was only so much of a beating I could take from the waves, and undertow I could resist, and cold I could try to shiver away. None of the lighthearted surfing movies I grew up on made drowning seem quite as terrifying as it really was. It burned — my lungs, my throat, my nose, the cuts and scrapes all over my body, everywhere the water went, it brought the stinging salt with it. I wondered after a while of clinging to that rock if it would be the lack of oxygen, the physical exhaustion, or just plain bleeding out that would finally sap the last of my strength.

(Spoiler: it was all three, plus a heaping side of crushing anxiety and a deep, dark sadness that AP English and a perfect GPA and burning myself out with extracurriculars and one last semester at Harvard meant nothing to the sea. I meant nothing to the sea.)

It tore me right off that rock and swallowed me whole, tossing and turning my body like a rag doll caught in the spin cycle. Just when I thought it was through playing with its food, the tide would change directions, allow me to break the surface just long enough to choke on rain, then yanked me right back down to drag my face across the sand. I might have begged it for mercy once or twice. I thought I heard it laugh. Glad someone was having a good time.

What felt like hours, days later, the pain finally started to fade.

Something massive collided with my side. It would have knocked the wind from my lungs if they'd had any left.

Naively, I hoped it was James, miraculously still alive and risking that precious gift to make sure I got home safe.

The sea wasn't quite done beating the shit out of me, it seemed; great, heavy blows connected with my spine, my chest, cracked my ribs, bruised my cheek—

"Cough, stupid!" something hissed inside my skull.

I did, and if I thought the water sucked going in, it was much, much worse coming back out. Again, a mighty fist smashed against my back, and again, and again, until it was satisfied I'd returned all that I'd unwillingly taken from the sea. If I died and all my good deeds meant anything at all to the universe, then God was a fucking asshole.

He laughed, thunderous and cruel, and smacked my back again.

The world went dark.

It returned far too bright and stinking of brine. My ingratitude offended the earth, apparently, because a sinkhole opened up beside my hip, rolling me towards — something solid. Message received, I was so grateful for the light and the fermenting salt.

"Good t'see drownin' didn't kill your sense of humor." Thick fingers gripped my jaw and shook it like I'd put something in my mouth a dog wasn't supposed to swallow. "C'mon, we got work to do."

I grimaced, cracking one eye open wide enough to make out the face of God. Beady eyes and rows of teeth greeted me.

"Am I in Hell?" I croaked without thinking any wiser of it.

The Devil laughed again. "Maybe," he sneered. "Depends on you." He rose, but rather than callously let the mattress fling me off the other side, his massive, scarred hand closed over my arm and yanked me to my feet.

"I don't think I'm in any state to—"

"Complain? Nah. You got a name?"

No sooner had it fallen from my tongue, it was swept away on a gust of wind.

"Idiot," he chuckled. "You're a Keeper now. Have to be smarter than that if you're gonna survive out here."

At least the anger kept me on my feet as he turned away. "And what's yours, then?"

The smile he cast over his shoulder wasn't friendly. "Xoctosz," he said. "Try to take it, Keeper."

"What are you?" I called after him. He beckoned me to follow. I dug my feet in.

None of the sharks I'd seen on my recreational dives had quite so many teeth. "Death." Again, he beckoned.

I curled my toes into the gaps between the warped floorboards.

"I'm not a patient man, Keeper."

"And what if I don't want to be your keeper?"

The windows all slammed open and the stormwinds rushed in. "Water's right there. You can leave any time."

My lungs burned. I followed Death.

[drainthehero]

Justice Jocks. Ch 2

The Justice Jocks had introduced themselves to the community with a flourish, with their first appearance when they assisted the police to prevent a group of criminals from robbing a bank. The police were a little confused at first, but it soon became clear that the four muscular young jocks were there to help, and their abilities easily overpowered the common thugs.

In a short period of time, the city had welcomed their new crime fighting group, and the Jocks had developed a working relationship with the police, including communicators for them to be called on when the police thought their help was required.

One bright Saturday afternoon, they received simultaneous calls for assistance while they were lazing around their shared room.

Billy grabbed the details of the callouts while the other boys stripped their clothes off, to be replaced with their mystical cockrings and costumes. Billy changed into his own superhero persona before giving out instructions.

A frown crossed over Billy’s handsome features as he considered the situation, “Track Star and Swim Star,” he looked over to the boys, “you head over to the bank while Gym Star and I go to the Museum of Ancient History.” The team members nodded agreement and headed out immediately.

Arriving at the museum the heroes saw a small group of criminals already at work, with the police currently working through a set of traps. With the benefit of his flight, All Star flew in carrying Gym Star and landed just near a criminal who was confidently issuing orders.

“I don’t know who you are,” said All Star as he puffed out his smooth muscled chest, “but this is not going to end well for you. Give yourself up now and we won’t need to hurt any of you.”

The criminal gave a small chuckle as a bolt of energy lanced out from un unseen position, striking All Star in his rippling abdominals and flinging him backward. “Urrgghh!” he called out as the force of the bolt flung him into a wall, where he then fell limp onto the ground. The impact left a small crater in the wall as pieces of debris fell on the muscled mass of the young hero.

“Hey!” called Gym Star as leapt over to the source of the weapon and scooped it up before crushing it effortlessly in his powerful grip. He then bound the wrists of the criminal operating the weapon and moved over to the prone form of All Star to check his condition.

Three huge thugs moved in to grapple with Gym Star as he checked on the condition of the temporarily dazed All Star. Catching him initially by surprise he felt hands circling his big beefy biceps and pull him back to pin his arms at his sides. Another thug then started to rain blows into the stomach of the young hero, but soon realised that the washboard stomach beneath the wrestling outfit was as impervious as any metal.

Gym Star grunted and shifted his massive frame, sending the three thugs flying away from his body. He then helped All Star who had finally roused from the effects of the energy weapon and had started to get up.

“You ok, All Star?” asked his friend with a concerned look.

All Star gave his friend a confident smile and nodded. “I’m fine buddy, just took me by surprise and knocked the wind out of me. Thanks for taking care of them Gym Star.” He then addressed the leader once more. “I guess you want to do this the hard way then.”

The two squared off against the remaining criminals and prepared themselves for battle, taking a much more cautious approach now that they had seen firsthand the resources available to the criminals.

The gang brandished weapons, with some firing on the heroes. Gym Star was so far impervious to any attack and so he pushed into the spray towards the nearest criminals and started disarming them and crushing their weapons in his bare hands. As he disarmed each criminal he bound their wrists behind their back, leaving them for police to scoop up when the scene was safe.

A smoke bomb went off just near his head and he quickly lost sight of the combatants around him. Suddenly he felt a powerful blow strike the back of his head. It dazed the mighty young hero as he cried out and was driven forward onto his hands and knees, only to feel a similar blow land between his legs, connecting with his big balls and crushing them painfully.

“Arghhh!” screamed the young hero as the testicle pounding caused pain to explode within his stomach. He closed his legs together and clutched his hands protectively around his balls as he fell onto his side, wondering what could possibly have delivered such a powerful blow.

But even as he scrambled to think clearly, he felt more blows landing on his back, head and arms as the unseen assailant continued to pummel the hapless hero. When the blows stopped he felt cold metal snaking around his body, wrapping itself around his arms, legs and neck before tightening and lifting him up to hang with his legs and arms splayed tightly back and away from his body and his head forced forward.

“Urrgghh,” he groaned as he flexed his mighty massive muscles, but was unable to budge the unyielding metal. Just then he noticed a strange taste in the smoky air he was breathing and wondered if it contained some chemical which affected his powers.

He struggled and writhed helplessly against the metal restraint, feeling himself grow weaker with each drawn breath.

The smoke started to clear and he saw the outline of a solitary thug wearing a gas mask. Without a word the thug drew his leg back and struck his booted foot squarely into the spandex clad and exposed pouch of the weakened young hero.

“Aaaarrrgghhhh!” cried Gym Star as he felt his balls crushed once more. Fortunately some of his power was still in his system but the pain to his testicles was excruciating. As he cried out from the pain the thug bent his leg again and once more and this time brought his knee right into the bulging pouch of Gym Star, who squealed from the pain and felt tears on his cheek.

All Star had flown over to confront a small group of combatants. He landed before them with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and his big bulge showing within the tight spandex shorts. “Run away now, you know how this is going to end.

“Get him, fools,” came the command from the boss as he continued to ransack the artefacts. “There are four of you and only one skimpily clad hero to defeat.”

The men moved forward as a group and swung weapons toward the handsome hero. All Star easily dodged or blocked the attacks as they came toward him, landing soft blows to show off his greater skill and demoralise them. He kicked one of the thugs on the exposed behind, forcing him forward and onto the ground. Then turned around and lifted himself up off the ground.

As the blond muscle hunk hovered he felt tight straps circle his wrists and pull tightly enough to wrench him back to the ground and force him to his knees with his arms stretched out to his sides. Looking at the source of the straps he saw devices which were securely bolted to the ground and cranking madly to hold him in place.

As he knelt prone the thugs all approached him to stand around him as he struggled against the powerful bonds. “Looks like the little flyboy got his wings clipped, eh boys?” said one of them, causing a chuckle. “Let’s see how tough he is now.”

With those words he wound back his arm and landed a heavy blow to the chiselled jaw of All Star. The blow was not enough to hurt the powered young hero and the thug cried out, nursing his hurt fist. All Star raised an eyebrow at the thug and showed a barely concealed smirk.

“Tough boy, are you?” said the thug through teeth clenched from the pain in his fist. “I guess we’ll just up the ante.”

The thugs picked up heavy objects and started to pound the hero. An aluminium baseball bat thudded into his abdomen, causing him to grunt from the pain. A wooden mallet bashed him in the back of the head, leaving him dazed. What he assumed was the bat connected with his broad lateral muscles, causing him to grimace in pain as his back clenched. This was followed by a filament wire whip lashed onto his exposed bulging biceps and thighs.

The weapons were enough to pierce through the power enhanced skin of the hero, who was not as tough as Gym Star. He groaned and cried out as the punishment continued on his smooth muscular body.

All Star scanned the room to look for help from his friend, but noticed Gym Star tightly caught up by shiny silvery bands wrapped around of his well-muscled limbs, a waft of smoke still hanging around the hero as a thug delivered another blow to Gym Star’s balls.

The plight of his teammate sent All Star into a rage and he took a deep breath before flexing and pulling at the bonds. Initially there was no change but he soon noticed a lessening of the slack in his bonds. He rested for a moment then took in a second big breath, expanding his chest even further. This time as he flexed he wrenched the devices free of the ground forcing them to trail in his grip as he launched himself into the air.

Keeping hold of the bands he flung the bases into the thugs, knocking them unconscious to the ground. He immediately flew over to his friend and saw a tall robot-like device standing about 20 feet back from Gym Star, holding him in place. All Star swung the base on his right hand a few times before bringing it down directly on top of the device. He was rewarded with a very gratifying view of the automaton being squashed to half its size and the bands going immediately slack.

All Star flew down quickly to catch his weakened friend, kicking the ballbusting assailant back before removing all the bands and flying both himself and Gym Star up toward the relative safety of the ceiling.

“Gym Star,” asked his leader with concern as he scanned for injuries. “Are you alright? I think we need to regroup and find Swim Star and Track Star.”

Once clear of the smoke, Gym Star immediately felt his powers returning which reduced and then completely removed the pain of his ballbusting. After a few moments he shook his head. “I’m ok. That smoke somehow blocked my powers but I’m fine now. All Star, if this is part of some plot to capture all of us, we may need these goons to help us locate the others.”

“Good point, Gym Star,” nodded the blond hero. “This definitely feels like a trap so we better stick together from here.”

The two landed back on the ground and advanced toward the small pockets of thugs, deciding to catch the leader last once his goons were out of the equation. They seemed to have used up all their tricks though as these last men fell easily to the might of the two spandex wearing heroes.

Finally they advanced toward the leader who was still searching for something among the museum’s artefacts.

“It’s time to give up, criminal,” said All Star as the two stood with their hands on hips, big muscles flexed imposingly. “All your little toys have been dismantled and we’ve had to put your thugs into a timeout because they couldn’t play well with others.”

The leader finally stopped his search and paid attention to the victorious superheroes. “Maybe I have underestimated you,” he admitted thoughtfully. “You might be more than just sexy dumb muscle jocks in skimpy spandex.”

This brought a red blush to both young men but did not deter them from their task. “You’ve had your fun and you’ve failed in your villainous deeds. Time to face Justice.”

The leader shrugged as if in defeat, saying, “Your turn, Extractor.”

“Finally! I thought you’d never ask, Eyes,” said a young man who seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere, startling the two heroes and causing them to jump.

The new criminal was about 6 feet tall with dark spiky hair and gorgeous handsome features framing silver eyes. He wore dark clothes accented by leather collar, chest harness and cuffs. As the two wondered how he had appeared he whipped up a matte black pistol with great speed and fired a single round directly at Gym Star.

The heroes did not even have time to react before the projectile impacted on the impenetrable chest of the massively muscled hero. It broke open on impact spreading a viscous goo like substance over the big pectoral.

All Star quickly took in that Gym Star was fine and addressed the new villain. “I think you’ll need to do better than a pistol and some hair gel.”

Extractor just adopted a half smile and tilted his head to the side before simply responding, “Gym Star, be a doll would you and hold All Star in place for me. Don’t let him escape.”

A frown crossed All Star’s face as he started to utter, “escape? Why would I want…” but his question was cut short as he felt the powerful arms of his teammate wrap around his chest and arms, squeezing hard and crushing the air from his lungs. “Aghhhh! Gym Star, what… uhhh,” he struggled to breathe properly. “What are… you… doing?” He tried to crane his neck around but could not see the face of his friend and teammate. “Please… uhhhh,” groaned All Star, “Gym Star, you… need to… snap out of it.”

Extractor walked over and stood before the struggling form of All Star. “Oh you can beg him all you want, my star spangled hero,” he said as he placed a hand on the smooth defined muscles and ran his hand over the chest and thighs, feeling the trapped power. “But you may want to conserve your strength.”

“Would you like to know why they call me the Extractor?” he asked as his hand casually felt and pressed into the muscular physique. “Our boss craves information. Information is power, so he says.” He began to run his hand over the sizeable bulge in the boxer brief and as he did so a curious glint formed in his eye.

All Star’s breathing was short and shallow, but he flinched as the villain caressed and handled him. “Get… your hands… off me, villain.”

“I enjoy extracting information from my subjects, no matter how much they may resist.” He slipped his hand down the back of the boxer briefs and felt the smooth bubble butt in his hand. “Even though they sometimes don’t realise they have the information I want. Today, my sexy specimen of a hero, you have the pleasure of being my subject.” As he said the final sentence, All Star could see the crazed lust which filled the beautiful silver eyes of the young man and felt a stab of fear.

“Never!” he replied with all the force he could muster.

Extractor smiled warmly and said, “never is such a long time, my pet.” He positioned his hands to either side of the skimpy boxer briefs, causing All Star to struggle with fresh energy in the vice like grip of his friend.

“No! You fiend!” gasped All Star in shock. “Gym Star! Please buddy, ughhh… let me go!”

“Squeeze him a bit harder Gym Star,” said Extractor lazily, to prove a point.

“Yes sir,” came the dull reply from the hero as he applied more pressure around the bound arms and chest of All Star, who could only groan from the pain.

“Where were we?” mused Extractor as he pulled down the tight briefs, exposing the microscopic erection of the leader of the Justice Jocks as he tried to maintain his composure. “Hmmm, this explains so much, don’t you think?” to which Eyes nodded slowly. Extractor wrapped his hand around the tiny erection and squeezed it with a knowing look in his eye. “Such a tiny cock for such a sexy muscular guy. How humiliating it must be every time someone sees that pathetic excuse for a cock.”

“Ooooh,” moaned All Star as his weakness for humiliation was exposed and his proud micro cock felt it’s moment. “So embarrassing…”. Extractor nodded to himself as he felt the cock pulse in his hand, leaking precum. His smile grew and spread across his handsome features.

“Oh, the fun I am going to have with you, my Little Pet.” The statement was simple and matter of fact which had All Star on edge. But it was the total lack of malice which caused a shiver to run up the spine of the young stud, leaving him speechless. Extractor stroked the little dick with one finger while exploring with his other hand. “You don’t need anything more than a finger and a thumb, do you hero? You’re lucky that I even bother to touch a microscopic wannabe dicklet like this.”

All Star moaned and nodded in spite of himself, barely managing to fight the urge to voice his agreement but going slack in the grip of his teammate as more precum oozed from his hard throbbing member.

Extractor pulled All Stars smooth nutsack aside while he continued to slowly stroke, revealing the purple cockring and shook his head. “Trust a bunch of dumb college jocks to see powerful mystic artefacts and wrap them around their cocks. At least it all makes sense now.”

Extractor dipped his finger in the precum which was freely oozing from the little dicklet and moved his hand up to drag that finger down the face and jaw of the hero before rubbing it into the luscious lips before leaning in for a deep passionate kiss then pulling back and licking his lips with a grin.

Without moving his gaze from the eyes of the hero, Extractor wiped the cock free of precum and said, “Gym Star, be a doll would you and crush the little balls of our handsome studly hero?”

All Star’s eyes went wide as he opened his mouth to protest but could only gurgle as a powerful hand slid down his stomach and gripped his balls, squeezing immediately. The pain was intense and All Star felt like he was going to vomit from the sensation. Almost immediately his proud little erection subsided and his inch long softy was barely visible.

“Thank you doll,” said Extractor. “Hold him again but be careful now as he doesn’t have his powers anymore,” he continued, securing an extremely tight metal cage over the tiny cock. Sure enough, All Star found that he had no powers at all. “Just as well I brought the micro cage for you Little Pet.” All Star struggled but realised that he was unable to fly or command any super strength.

“Wha…” he floundered for words as he clutched helplessly at the steel cage trapping his proud little dick. “What have you done to me? To us? Please, take it off!” Extractor grinned and led the dazed hero over to a table where Gym Star held him down while he found his arms and legs bound. Extractor then ran his hands over the muscular naked body as the now mortal athlete struggled in his bonds.

“That’s not how this game works my pet. I ask the questions here.” He played with the balls of the young hero, “how is that little cock of yours now pet? Does it long to stand tall and show me how proud it is? I do so enjoy measuring hard dicklets.”

A thrill of erotic energy washed over All Star as he lay helplessly bound. “Ahhhhh… fuuuuck, yes,” he conceded, feeling his miniature cock throbbing as it yearned to grow.

Extractor leaned down and sucked at the hard nipple, causing All Star to instantly groan from the pleasurable sensation. The groaning turned to a yelp of pain though when he felt his sensitive nipple bitten, and saw Extractor stand up, grinning as he licked the blood from his lip.

“We can’t play my usual game, Little Pet,” said Extractor as he looked at the shiny metal encased microdick, “but I enjoy a challenge, and I have other games.” He placed a glove on his hand and rubbed at the balls and locked cock, causing All Star to moan as he felt the glove vibrating across his groin. “Now, start by telling me your nickname. Every proud small penis I’ve ever handled has a nickname.” When he finished asking he leaned forward again and sucked once more at the small nipple, using his tongue to swirl the small amount of blood like thick additional lubricant.

“Ahhhh,” moaned All Star, fighting to resist the urge to give the villain anything. The lashing on his nipple intensified as the vibrations from the glove increased in intensity, causing his eyes to roll back. “Mnnnhhh… they… ughhh… call me…” he paused and gulped in air and fought back his desire to give in, shutting his mouth and staying silent.

“Ohh,” chuckled Extractor. “Defiant are you?” he teased as he shook the caged cocklet playfully. He sucked on the ear of the young hero and whispered, “Such a small proud dick on that sexy body. Tell me Little Pet, do boys throw themselves at you, longing for you to fuck them? Only to give you that look of disappointment and pity when they finally see your tiny little dick?”

“Ughhh… yeah…” All Star could only moan and nod as his muscled body was tormented and his tiny dick throbbed painfully within the unyielding steel cage. “Please… it’s so painful… take it off!”

“And,” continued the villain, “I bet that proud little dick is desperate to prove itself and be used to fuck some hot stud, isn’t it?” A gleam entered the eye of Extractor as he chuckled and whispered a command to Gym Star.

Within seconds Gym Star had ripped open his costume and was squatting over the caged cock, leaning forward with his hands gripping his ankles, presenting his ass to the bound hero. “Wow,” exclaimed Extractor as he ran his hand over the muscled buns and fingered the tight hole on display. “That’s a virgin ass if ever I’ve felt one.” He leaned down and proceeded to delicately tongue the exposed hole, causing Gym Star to moan and for his big cock to stiffen. “All Star, imagine what it would be like to thrust your hard little cock into that untouched hole. A virgin hole like this would be tight even on your little dicklet!”

“Arghhh!” All Star let out a guttural groaning whimper as he watched the villain play with his buddy’s sexy ass. He had never told his friends of this secret desire, and his burning shame at his tiny inadequate cock caused his member to throb even more within the cage.

“He is under my control now Little Pet,” continued Extractor. “I can make that dream a reality for you.” He freed a hand of All Star and guided it over to the exposed hole, the young leader feeling a thrill as his finger dove in and explored inside that tight muscled ass for the first time. “You just need to give me everything I want.”

“Ahhhh…. God that feels good,” whispered the young hero. Gym Star was gyrating his ass over the finger and his big cock grew to stand at its full 10 inches.

Extractor freed the second hand and wrapped it around the big shaft of Gym Star. All Star moaned in heat, feeling as though his dick would explode with the need to get hard, as it leaked precum within its metal cage.

“What’s it like to hold a real cock? Imagine stroking that while you get to fuck that tight little virgin hole.”

“Ohhh… fuck. Ughhhhh. Feels so good,” exclaimed All Star. “Please, please take this cage off. My dick needs to get hard.”

Extractor merely grinned as he replied, “little dicks like yours are shameful and deserve to be caged. Only real cocks deserve to be free and hard.”

The young hero moaned but continued to stroke and finger his hero buddy. However, before he could build a good rhythm, Extractor easily forced the hands back into the bindings. All Star fought with his still powerful muscles, but was surprised at the strength of the muscular young villain.

At a signal from Eyes he made an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “I knew it. I told you.”

“I know. But I have it, so we are in the clear,” came the shrugged reply.

Extractor gave his attention back to the young men. “I’m afraid our first session has come to an early end my young heroes. Gym Star, be a dear and move here.” The musclebound jock was turned around and forced to sit his ass over the bound hand of All Star, impaling his tight virgin hole with a grunt on the raised finger. “Now stroke that big cock until you cum all over your little leader. Perfect my pets,” purred Extractor as Gym Star started to masturbate himself with All Star watching as if mesmerised.

Eyes merely sighed and made his way out of the museum, launching up toward the roof via a concealed line. Extractor was suddenly not there, with no clear evidence of how he had made his exit.

All Star and Gym Star were left moaning with desire as the bound hero fingered that tight sweet hole and his little dicklet throbbed within its tight prison.

[tobacconist]

the hardest of men shave with a blowtorch. and they put garlic in their socks. i smoke my pipe upsidedown in the rain. behold, i see a woman riding a pig backwards. wait, its not a woman. its a man in a dress. look! she has an elaborate headdress on her head, it looks like a big castle made of smaller castles, with heather about it. and theres a little dog too, no, wait, i dont know if its a dog or a pig. it could be a small pig. its a small hairy animal, and it has wings. it could be a bearcub. hes swimming beside her and there is a mongoose with him, but the mongoose doesnt have wings. the 'woman' is called an angel, and she plays the saxophone. i see a hexagon, and the inverse of a seahorse, and a high heeled boot kicking a football. i learned long ago that there is a certain kind of rare jewel which glows in the darkness, which has medicinal virtues. and it is possible to dissolve it in wine, and it has the power to change the past and the future. but i cannot tell you its name. it is obtainable only in the far far east. so far east that youre almost west again, 'weast', as we call it. hark! hark! hear the dogs bark! news from the west! you must wear a vest! news from the north! let us go forth! news from the east! a fast and a feast! news from the south! shut your mouth! but i shall not. she is a mute, yet great is the multitude of her words, she is the barren one, and many are her sons. i am the mother of my father and the sister of my husband, she said, once. i dont think anyone knows what she meant by it. beware, there are serpents crawling at your feet, i wear a snake around my neck. was i not there when the earth began? when jesus rode on dinosaurs, and all the forests were full in plenty? and no one hurting eachother, and all was merry, and all the aminals living in peace, and adam and eve aswell, and the fountain, and the angels that walked then amongst us, and the glory of the garden. it was precious, and i remember it well. and i remember the tower of babel, and the green man who lived on the island, and the giants and dwarves; and the dragons which are now slain. and was i not there at the sacred touching-of-the-beards ceremony? i wove mine in with the rest, wizards we, and it was for the greater good. when mary and elizabeth met, their babies jumped for joy within their wombs. and know that the baby jesus never once cried, and that he was born with his eyes open, and that his smile is most precious. once, peter and jesus went out upon the fields, and they ploughed three furrows and brought up three worms. one was black, one was white, and one was red. in ancient days, the world was divided in three parts: the waters, the lands, and the skies. and they were three separate kingdoms, and only the swan could move freely between them. when we die, worms eat our bodies, then birds eat the worms, and we eat the birds. its a little bit disgusting, actually. twice, mary ran to the shore carrying three worms, one black, one white, one red. the first time they were living, the second time they were dead. and she cried for her son, like no woman has cried. we all heard it, in heaven and in earth. and didnt the earth tremble? and the sun and moon look away? worms wriggle and writhe. the black one was called ignorance, the white one was called shock, and the red one was called pain. when jesus was a little boy, he made some sparrows out of clay. thrice, the cockerel crowed for peter. the boat was lost at sea. three worms mary held in her hand, one black, one white, one red. and didnt the salty wind whip her about as she stood there on the beach? the flight to egypt was perilous, airtravel wasnt as good back then you see. they were stopped at customs many times and accused of stealing their gold and smuggling their incense.

[seabreeze2022]

2023 Bahamas Cruise, Part 18, Apr. 12. Weather hold on Long Island.

What do you do when the water is this clear and calm? Jump in! Bahamas are not all beaches, pina coladas and “green flash” sunsets. After these two flat calm days, the next two days we were surrounded by storms from a stalled cold front. Miami flooded with 8” of rain in two days. Yet, we never really got rain.

Easter Sunday, I dropped off Nancy at the closest dinghy dock to St. Joseph’s Anglican/Episcopal church in Thompson Bay. You can just barely see it in the background behind her. Around fifty people were in attendance. She had met most of them during our time on the Island. A much more reserved service, than last years service in Black Point. No tambourines, no kids choir, and a third the time. Fifty/fifty men and women, where Black Point was a high majority of women.

After dropping Nancy off, I swung by the Thompson Bay Yacht Club. Cruisers over time have set up a small picnic area on shore here, dubbed TBYC. No one was here. Only two of us are anchored in the bay now. Then I headed back to the boat for boat chores. Took the trash to shore. Filled the water tank using our water maker. Trickle charged the start battery and fixed a thing or two.

Nancy called on the VHF radio for a pick up at Basil’s dock. Once we got back to the boat, we lifted the anchor and headed north. Great wind from the west for sailing on a beam reach. Nancy baked bread while the boat was heeled 10-15 degrees to starboard.

Fresh Coconut cinnamon bread!

Just before the two loaves of Coconut cinnamon bread came out of the oven we sailed over the Tropic of Cancer northbound. Coordinates are displayed on the top left of the chart plotter, N23 26.031 Actual Longitude of the Tropic of Cancer North 23 degrees 26 minutes and 10 seconds. We anchored off of Simms Settlement on Long Island. That is where you see Nancy jumping off the boat. She paddleboared along the shore. While I made water on the boat.

Nancy caught mid flight playing around and cooling off some.

The next day we dinghied to Simms Government Dock where the mail boat comes in. With a west wind blowing the dinghy against the sharp rocks. I sent Nancy on walk about, while I oared around in the dinghy. She visited the prison and several graveyards. The prison and most buildings in town had outhouses near them. Not sure if either the outhouse or prison have been used in recent history. Think Mayberry RFD, Bahama out island style.

Just before we left for shore another monohull sailboat pulled into OUR anchorage. This is OUR anchorage damn it! As soon as we got back to the boat we pulled anchor and went north around the next point. I had gotten lazy and forgot to check the charts. We went from 7 ft. depth to 5 ft. in a couple of seconds. Oops! I went to idle and started the turn back to deep water. Too late…..squeakkkkk. We had skidded to a stop in pure white sand. Quick check of the shore for current tide. Looks kind of low. Pull up weather app. we are close to low. Had this been a sailing YouTube channel. All sorts of drama could be made up. Water was flat calm. First dropped the 55 pound anchor and twenty feet of chain that weighs 1 lb. per foot. The chain laid over the top of the anchor in a pile. Had some snacks and a beer. Went swimming. Walked chest deep around the boat. Nancy jumped off the boat and hit bottom doing so. Wind changed 180 degrees and picked up enough to move the boat when we floated free. So pulled in the pile of chain with the anchor suspended above the sand. Couple of hours later…..we floated free after dark. Waited until 7 ft. showed on the depth finder. Then drop the anchor and chain, then went to bed. Next morning we snorkeled around the boat.

This blue tip crab put up his dukes, when I stopped by. Reviewing weather, anchorages and possible plans we decided to sail back to Thompson Bay. Then rent a car and tour the north end of the island. Wind was on our nose, so we only sailed an hour; then motored to Thompson Bay. In between rain storms we took 4 jerry jugs to Long Island Petroleum for diesel and gas. Had a great talk with Walter Fox the part owner.

On Wednesday when the weather seemed to break. We hiked over the island to the ocean side, then south along the beach for a mile. Then back across the island to the “Sou’ side” (Sound side) of the island. Round trip walking was a little over 3 miles. We were hot and tired with nothing but photos to show for our beach hike. We are surprised that little to no shells on the reef side of the island. Today though we were both looking for Ambergris. Found lots of tar balls, but no ambergris.

On the way to the dinghy we stopped at the “Sou’ side” bar for a cold Kalik beer and cracked chicken. Then back to the boat.

Rainbow over Salt Pond at the end of the day.

S/V Sea Breeze, Thompson Bay, Long Island, Bahamas.

[hyacinths-in-a-storm]

Rainy Days and Healing Breaths

Tyzula Week: Day 2 Vacation/Permanent

You can read it here on archive of our own as well

A/N: I'm late, but I had literally no motivation, and my family was over, so yeah. Anyways enjoy!

TW: Internalized Homophobia

The last time there had been a monsoon on Ember Island, there were still airbenders around. But now five years after the Hundred Year War ended, the skies were raining down on the island town with a vengeance.

Ty Lee and Azula were standing under the awning of the porch, at the royal beach house. They were both silent,

“The day after I get better.” Azula curses, her throat slightly raspy from her cold,

“I don’t suppose we can go for a swim?” Ty Lee jokes,

“Not unless you fancy drowning.” Azula spits, she had learned, mostly, how to control her anger, but on days like these it still found a way to root itself like an unsavory parasite. Ty Lee put a hand on her shoulder and Azula took a deep, calming breath.

“I suppose we could find something to do inside.” she seethed,

"That's the spirit, maybe we can even play Pai Sho." Ty Lee jokes, but Azula glowered in response,

"I'd rather take my chances with the ocean. If you really wanted to play Pai Sho, you should've brought Uncle."

"Is there something else you're mad about?" she asked noticing Azula’s change in mood,

"No, why would you ask that?" she asked, very clearly mad, Ty Lee stared at her, raising a single eyebrow,

"Let's just get changed first." Azula stated, and Ty Lee nodded in response, moving her hand to Azula’s back and Azula took this as a sign to take deep, calming breath,

“Yeah, let's do that.” she said, taking a breath, “We can find hundreds of things to do inside, right?”

Ty Lee nods and smiles brightly, before skipping inside. Azula followed with a small smile of her own, closing the door, wincing as the wind slammed it shut behind her. The Ember Island Beach House looked very different amidst a monsoon. Despite the fact it was the middle of the day the clouds blocked out any ray of sunshine, plunging the room into darkness. Ty Lee, graceful as ever, artfully navigated her way through the pitch-black room. Azula, not as graceful, bumped her hip against the sharp edge of a drawer. She hissed in pain,

“Azula? Are you ok?” Ty Lee called out,

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just- hit my hip against the table. How do you see anything in this darkness?” Azula responded,

“I don’t, speaking of which we need to light a lantern. Do you know where the lanterns are?” Ty Lee asks,

“Somewhere in the back of the house.” Azula said, lightning punctuating her sentence, followed by the sound of thunder,

“Well that’s ominous.” she sighed, “Come on, let’s go find those lanterns.”

Ty Lee takes Azula’s hand, tugging her along. The storage room is in the very back, the only entrance was a plain unassuming door. The last time Azula had been in the storage room of the beach house, she was six-year-old, and had got locked in after a game of hide-and-seek went wrong. The memory of banging on the metal doors until her hand turned red still sent shudders down her spine. She made sure to prop the door open with a box, so there wouldn’t be a repeat, especially since there was no one else visiting the beach house for months.

Shoving the boxes aside and coughing at the displaced dust, she lit a small flame illuminating her surroundings, bathing the room in an eerie glow,

“How long has it been since someone cleaned this place?” Ty Lee asked, coughing,

“Never, I think if we look hard enough we might find a beach towel that belonged to Roku or something.”

“Roku? The previous avatar? I thought this house belonged to the royal family.”

“It does, but Firelord Sozin invited Avatar Roku to come with him every summer, like I invited you this summer.” Azula answered, blowing some dust off a crate, “Apparently they were very close before Roku was announced as the Avatar and was sent to travel across the world.”

“Don’t you think it’s ironic that the person who was supposed to maintain balance within the world was friends with the person who threw the world out of balance?” Ty Lee wondered,

“I guess, I wondered how Avatar-” thunder interrupted her again, Azula sighs heavily, “Come on, we can talk about Firelord Sozin and Avatar Roku after we find the lanterns.”

Ty Lee agreed and ducked behind the crates. Azula cracked the crate top open. Nothing but fabric. She moved the crate to the floor, and cracked the next crate open, again nothing but some metal tools. This was going to take longer than she had originally thought. Azula cleared the dust from her throat.

Hands grabbed her from behind and Azula screamed bracing her feet against the strewn crates sending her and her attacker careening to the ground. After the ringing in her head stops, she recognizes the sound of laughter,

Azula sat upright facing a cackling Ty Lee.

“Azula-” she pauses to catch her breath, “Azula it’s just me. I found the lanterns.”

“Agni Ty Lee! You scared the hell out of me, couldn’t you have called out to me or something?” I curse,

“I didn’t think you would react like this!” She barely managed to control her laughter.

Azula was about to say something, but she realized she was just a few inches from Ty Lee’s face. If she leaned any further their noses would touch, and a little more their lips would touch. She was tempted to do it, but a small voice in the back of her mind warned her otherwise.

Do you really think she would ever reciprocate your feelings? You’re disgusting, even thinking about your friend in this way. She would never like a girl, much less a pathetic creature like you. Father was right, there is something truly wrong with you.

“Azula?” she snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Ty Lee’s voice,

“You ok? You zoned out for a second.” she asked, “Is everything alright? I didn’t hurt you during the fall did I?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m fine.” Azula said, pushing herself away from Ty Lee, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Are you sure? You look a bit sick, maybe your cold isn’t fully gone-” Ty Lee was interrupted by the sound of a crashing crate, Azula had kicked it over in her haste, and sent all the metal tools flying everywhere,

“I’m fine- damn it, I’m sorry Ty Lee, let’s just light the lanterns and get out of here.” She was breathing hard now, her heart stuck in her throat and she was unable to think properly. What was she thinking, trying to kiss her best friend? She had already messed up their friendship once, she couldn’t risk messing it up again. Ty Lee would never forgive her if she kissed her, never look at her the same if she knew what Azula really felt towards her. A hand came to touch her forehead.

“I think you need to lie down, you're burning up.”  Ty Lee noted, she looked worried now a crease forming between her brow. Azula ignored her by lighting up the lanterns and handing it to her,

“Let’s just get out of here. After all, we don't want to be locked in here, trust me it’s not fun.” she forced a laugh, Ty Lee didn’t look like she believed her but followed her out anyways.

“You know your therapist said that it was better to talk to people, rather than keep your emotions bottled up.” she said offhandedly, hanging up a lantern,

“If I told you, you would hate me.” Azula whispered, her back turned to Ty Lee, who heard this much to Azula’s dismay, and raised a single eyebrow,

“Try me.” she asked,

“Did Zuko or Sokka ever get back to you? Are they coming or not?” Azula asked, avoiding the topic,

“Azula, come on, you’re clearly upset about something, was it something I did? Something I said?”

“I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong.” Azula hissed,

“You keep saying that! You know I used to think you were a good liar-” Ty Lee was interrupted,

“Fine, do you want to know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I can’t stop thinking about you. What’s wrong is that back there in the storage closet I almost kissed you. What’s wrong is that even after all these years I’m still broken.” Azula shut her mouth as abruptly as she opened it. Ty Lee was staring at her with a look of confusion, and she was starting to regret ever opening her mouth,

“You wanted to kiss me?” she asked, almost quietly as if she wasn’t sure she heard properly, Azula had swallowed before answering,

“I know, I know you don’t have to tell me, it’s wrong and if you never want to talk to me again then- then I understand.” It took all her will-power to not let her emotion spill into her words,

“No- no that’s not what I meant. Spirits that’s not what I meant at all. I only meant-” Ty Lee took Azula’s hand, “Here let me show you instead.”

Ty Lee leaned closer, until their lips were touching, but just barely, light enough that Azula could pull away if she so chose to, but she didn’t instead leaning forward, closing her eyes as she did so. They stayed there for a long moment.

When they parted, Azula’s heart felt like it was doing one of Ty Lee’s complicated acrobatic routines.

“So you don’t hate me?” was all she could manage, Ty Lee laughed,

“No, of course not. In fact it’s the complete opposite.” she kissed her on the cheek, “I never said anything because I thought I might scare you off.”

“What does this mean for us then?” Azula asked,

“Whatever you want it to mean.” she answers with a shrug, “I was hoping it means that we start dating.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” she said with a smile,

“You know, I almost thought this was already a date.” When Azula looked at her in confusion Ty Lee continued, “I mean you did invite me to your family’s private beach house alone.”

“I was being a good friend!” Azula sputtered indignantly, Ty Lee nodded sagely,

“Of course, of course, in any case my first verdict as your girlfriend is to force you to rest, I don’t think this storm is doing any favors for your cold.” she said,

“I’m not sick anymore! I just have a scratchy throat.” Azula protested,

“And a fever. Come on.” Ty Lee entwined her fingers with Azula’s, pressing a third kiss to her cheek, effectively shutting her up. She let Ty Lee drag her to bed, feeling something swelling in chest she hadn’t felt before. Hope.

[philosophicalparadox]

love to know more about "Lightning in the Dark" from your wips :3

I just answered an ask about this one, which you can find here:

But, i didnt want to make that post too long, so I didn't add a snippet. Thus I will put one here!

Know that this one isn't NEARLY as far along as Passions, and it's really...pretty dark overall. Soooo I went ahead and found the least grim of the scenes I have jotted down right now - it's a long scene and it's still kinda angsty-bittersweet, but it ends on a happy note:

...Griffith heard familiar footsteps approach, breaking him from his thoughts. He knew they were Guts', but the cadence was wrong somehow.

The distant sound of rain pelting against the tents outside grew more intense as the storm settled in over their heads, and settled a profound ache pounding into Griffith's knees with each fat drop. He wanted to groan in frustration and protest.

When Guts pushed open the tent with his foot, flicking heavy droplets inside, it took every fibre of his being not to - for Guts was, to Griffith's surprise, holding a very wet looking Casca in his arms.

"Sorry buddy, but Casca's gotta stay in here tonight." Guts voice didn't give him room to argue as he set her down on the edge of the table his sword was resting beside. "She's sick."

"I am not sick," Casca argued weakly. "If I was, you really think Dieter would let me in here?"

"Fine, you're woman sick. Better?" Her glare, softened by dark circles under her eyes, did the answering for her. "It's not like I can help it. It's not always this bad, but some times are worse than others." She swayed a bit on the edge, gripping the table with near-white knuckles to stabilise herself. "And I told you, I'll be fine on my own."

"Yeah right, last time this crap gave you a fever like that you hurled us both off a cliff, remember?" Guts jabbed. But there was no teeth in it. "Now take this. It's the same fever medicine Dieter gave me for Griff - potent stuff, that." Guts extended his hand, a brown, leaf-wrapped pill held delicately between his fingers. "Supposed to not upset the stomach as bad as willow."

"Good," Casca replied. "Cause I hate taking willow when I feel like this. It helps in the end, but," she shuddered in mock disgust. "It's hard stuff to keep down when you're already nauseous." She took the pill and a water flask from Guts, who turned then to Griffith.

"I know this isn't ideal," he said gently. "But this girl has a bad habit of knocking herself out, and I wanna keep an eye on her, 'kay?" Griffith replied with a suspicious, cautious side-eye. Guts heaved a sigh. This was gonna be a fun night.

_page break _

Casca began changing her clothes, faced away from the boys. Movement caught her eye and she turned slightly to find Guts had made up the backup mattress, sized for one person, beside Griffith's own, which was big enough for two. "Hope you don't mind sleeping on the outside wall," Guts said. "Griffith can't climb over both of us in case he needs to piss in the middle of the night. I've left a bit of space so you can navigate around us if you need to, and so you don't get wet if the wind soaks the wall." He stood up and approached her where she held her still wet shirt, the back of his hand finding the side of her neck. "Fever is still kinda hot. That medicine should kick in soon though." He stepped away for a moment, grabbing a linen cloth from the table. "You should wipe yourself down. You're covered in sweat and rain."

"That was the plan," Casca replied. She looked at the cloth for a long moment. She could feel Griffith glaring-but-not-glaring at her back, and wondered for a moment if it was a good idea - but she also felt terrible, and frankly didn't want to deal with that shit.

"Can you do my back?" She asked before she could stop herself. "It's just, I don't think I have the balance to try right now. My head is swimming." She tried, on purpose, to sound extra miserable in the hopes of catching Griffith's sympathy bone, but she dare not look to see if she had succeeded; besides, it wasn't like she needed to try hard. She really was dizzy as hell.

"Sure." Guts said non-chalantly, grabbing the wash bowl he had just finished filling and starting to work between Casca's shoulder blades.

There was a whine from their right.

"Oh hush you," Guts said, though his tone was more affectionate than patronising. "I didn't forget you." He looked over to see Griffith with a surprised and kind of embarrassed look on his face. Clearly he hadn't meant to make that noise. Guts could only smirk.

"I wipe you down like this every night, don't I?" Guts remarked cooly, trailing the cloth down Casca's back. "I won't forget to do it tonight just because Casca is here." She wasn't sure if he was trying to be reassuring or condescending, because to her it sounded like both.

"Don't patronize me." Griffith snapped.

"Then don't act like I should have to, and I won't." Guts sassed back, handing the cloth over to Casca. She took it before turning to look at Guts' face, which held an amused smirk. Griffith, on the other hand, was anything but amused.

"Come here," Guts said as he sat a bit away from the mattress on the floor, putting the second bowl he had collected from the table and cloth to the side, but keeping his legs open. "Dieter says it's good for you to move around a bit. You've been doing really good with it, but I can't pick you up all the time." Griffith glared at him for that last line. He seemed to sulk in his aggravation for a moment.

"Come on Mr. Moody, before the water gets any colder." Griffith continued to glare for a moment more, before rolling his eyes and breathing a sigh. Guts's charm had won over his annoyance -if only for today.

Griffith sighed again at the prospect before him. He had gotten used to rolling out of bed and crawling to the bedpan, but it didn't mean it wasn't painful on his knees - knees that already hurt with the weather. With one last glance at Casca, who watched their interaction with feigned disinterest, he resolved his stiff tendons to move.

It was all well and good, until his knees hit the carpet. He winced against the uncomfortable pressure against his kneecaps which quickly evolved into a stretching, pinching pain. He tried to shuffle through it, but after just a few tiny "steps" he felt his body involuntarily curling in on itself.

"Knees painful?" Guts asked, stretching out his arm for support. Griffith looked up at him for a moment before he nodded, reaching for Guts' arm. "That's okay," Guts reassured, leaning forward on his knees to tilt Griffith onto his haunches, hooking his hand under Griffith's knees and arms and pulling him into the space between Guts' legs in one smooth, practiced motion. "We gotta do your stretches anyway. Do you want to do them before or after the wash?" Griffith looked at him expectantly. Guts sighed. "After the wash. I don't even know why I ask."

Casca looked on with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. Was this what it was like when Guts was taking care of him? She had hardly been allowed in here since he woke up from his coma, so on one hand it was interesting to see what exactly Guts did. On the other hand, she really hadn't expected the...casual-ness? The coolness? Of Guts behavior. Before, she felt like he was forcing himself to be calm and cool for Griffith's sake, which was fine - but now didn't feel forced, exactly, but it did feel practiced. This entire interaction did. Which kind of surprised and simultaneously alarmed Casca for some reason. Not because it was a bad thing, exactly, but more that this wasn't a side of Guts she was used to seeing.

"Up" Guts ordered softly, and Griffith obeyed without fuss, raising his arms so Guts could remove his shirt. "Shit." Guts muttered, before he glanced toward Casca a little unsurely. "Uh, Casca, while you're there, could you grab his night shirt from that box on the table? I always seem to forget that damn thing." Casca blinked in response. "Sure," she replied.

Removing the gown from the box, she noticed how incredibly soft it was. "Is this Mueslin?" She asked incredulously.

"Yep. Dieter kept a few like that, since cotton doesnt stick the way linen does. Im not sure what purpose such a thin cloth is for the sick - it sure the hell ain't for keeping them warm," Guts replied as he took the folded cloth from her and set it on his thigh. "But Deiter says it's supposed to do something about night sweats and keeping oozy things dry, or something. Plus it's pretty easy to clean, I guess." He then turned his attention back to Griffith, who was beginning to lean on Guts' shoulder. Casca tried not to look too hard at his scars, but the only other thing to focus on was the strange burning feeling that was growing in her gut - something that resembled jealousy, she noted with surprise.

She watched, distantly transfixed, as Guts methodically wiped Griffith down, only acknowledging Casca to tell her to look away when he needed to completely undress him to clean between his thighs, a thought which had Casca grateful that neither of them could see her face.

When Guts sounded the all-clear, though, he wasn't fully done doing...implicating things. Griffith had his gown on, which not only didn't hide many things, between his semi-open thighs, but Guts had moved on to helping him stretch and massage said thighs, which was...too much, for her.

"I-I'll just...stay here...until you're all done." Casca replied, hoping her high octave voice didn't give away the fire she felt coloring her face. Guts quirked his brow at her, but chalked it up to a growing list woman-things he didn't understand.

Once there really was an all clear, and Guts had Griffith and him tucked into bed, Guts invited her over. "I put down a few extra cloths, in case you...uh, Y'know..." It was Guts' turn to be embarrassed by the implications. Nonetheless, Casca was grateful. Washing blood out of mattresses was a pain, and she sure the hell was not about to let a man do that kind of thing for her.

"Thanks," she added as she crawled under the, thankfully, big hide blanket behind Guts. It was the first time Casca really noticed he had pressed the mattresses together to make one really big one, rather than have her sleep alone. The thought made her smile as she tucked in for the night.

Guts - and Guts alone, thankfully - heard Griffith's teeth click when he felt and heard Casca shifting around behind them. Casca did, however, hear Guts reprimand him. "Be nice," Guts warned. "There's a reason I'm sleeping between you two, so please don't carve me up over it, 'kay?" A grumbled huff came from Griffith, and Casca was a little shocked by how jealous and, frankly, petulant he seemed. 'Does he really dislike me so much? Or is this all because he wants Guts to himself?' Either situation seemed likely for him at this point - besides, it only went to prove how much Guts was not kidding about Griffith being a "moody pain in his ass sometimes" - a phrase she wouldn't have believed if you'd applied it to Griffith even a year ago.

"Lets just try and get some shut-eye, ok?"

Casca felt the air lose its static as they both quieted down and their breathing synchronised. She felt the dregs of the rain pulling down her mood sharply -or maybe it was her menarchy, or the situation just now. She didn't know, but a wave of melancholy swept her into near tears on the turn of a heel, and suddenly she felt very upset about the fact, of all things, that Guts had turned his back to her in favor of holding Griffith. She knew he didn't mean anything by it - but her heart said things her mind wasn't agreeing with right now, and it stung a bit that she wasn't getting cuddled when she felt like shit.

As if sensing her distress, a hand appeared, reaching for her own - but it wasn't the hand she was expecting. No, this hand was familiarly small and scarred. She wasn't sure it was on purpose until he actively grabbed at her fingers, clutching them with what awkward coordination he had.

She wasn't sure if it was an apology or an attempt at comfort, but she took it to mean both things. She curled into Guts back and squeezed Griffith's hand slightly; she smiled when he squeezed them back.

Huzzah, the only happy scene I have written down RN. Feel free to ask about anything else, anon! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to post this draft. :)