#and now it Should be find because we Should be handing over the deposit on wed

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Welcome to my Tuesday morning PSA about plastics!

So--I was walking along the Bolstadt beach approach sidewalk here in Long Beach, WA yesterday afternoon, and I started seeing these little orange pellets on the ground that looked a little bit like salmon roe (but probably weren't). So I picked one up, and it was most definitely rubber. I went around picking up every one I could find, and while I didn't keep exact count I probably amassed 50-60 of them. I took this picture before depositing them in the nearest trash can.

These are airsoft gun pellets, and you can buy them in big jars containing thousands of them. That means that someone who decided that the beach was a great place to shoot their airsoft guns could easily litter the place with countless little bits of plastic rubber in less than an hour. We already have a huge problem here with people leaving trash, including tiny bits of plastic, all over the beach (you should see the gigantic mess after 4th of July fireworks when thousands of people come in from out of town, blow things up, and then leave again without picking up after themselves.)

But these airsoft pellets have a particularly nasty side effect. You know how my first thought was "wow, those look kind of like salmon roe?" Well, we have a number of opportunistic omnivore birds like crows, ravens, and several species of gull that commonly scavenge on the beach, especially along the approaches because people often feed them there. If I can catch the resemblance of an orange airsoft pellet to a fish egg, then chances are there are wildlife that will assume they're edible.

Since birds don't chew their food, they probably won't notice that the taste or texture is wrong--it'll just go down the hatch. And since they can't digest the pellets, there's a good chance they might just build up in the bird's digestive system, especially if the bird eats a large number of them--say, fifty or sixty of them dropped on the ground along the same fifty foot stretch of sidewalk. The bird might die of starvation if there's not enough capacity for food in their stomach--or they might just die painfully of an impacted gut, and no way to get help for it. If the pellets end up washed into the ocean, you get the same issue with fish and other marine wildlife eating them, and then of course the pellets eventually breaking up into microplastic particles.

You can get biodegradable airsoft pellets; they appear to mainly be gray or white in color rather than bright screaming orange and green. But "biodegradable" doesn't mean "instantly dissolves the next time it rains." An Amazon listing for Aim Green biodegradable airsoft pellets advertise them as "Our biodegradable BBs are engineered to degrade only with long-term exposure to water and sun and will degrade 180 days after being used." That's half a year for them to be eaten by wildlife.

I don't know, y'all. That handful of carelessly dropped rubber pellets just encapsulates how much people don't factor in the rest of nature when making decisions, even on something that is purely for entertainment like an airsoft gun. We could have had a lot of the same technological advances we have today, but with much less environmental impact, if we had considered the long-term effects on both other people and other living beings, as well as our habitats. We could have found ways from the beginning to make these things in ways that benefited us but also mitigated any harm as much as possible. Instead we're now having to reverse-engineer things we've been using for decades, and sometimes--like the "biodegradable" airsoft pellets--they still have a significant negative impact.

But--at least there are people trying to do things better, thinking ahead instead of just on immediate profit. We're stuck in a heck of a mess here, figuratively and literally, and changing an entire system can't be done in a day. Maybe we can at least keep pushing for a cultural shift that emphasizes planning far into the future--if not the often-cited "seven generations ahead", then at least throughout the potential lifespan of a given product.

[solarmorrigan]

Deck the Halls - Spooky Scary Remix

For the @steddie-spooktober day 7 prompt: Skeleton Rated: G | Words: 682 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a menace Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Those are skeletons.”

“They sure are.”

With an air of satisfaction, Eddie deposits the two life-size, plastic skeletons onto the couch, where they preside over the boxes of decorations sitting on the living room floor like a bony king and queen (or two kings. Or two queens. Steve guesses he can’t say for sure, since they’re skeletons).

“Eddie, it’s December,” Steve says.

“You know, your observational skills are one of the things I really love about you,” Eddie shoots back.

“Fuck off,” Steve snaps, with no real heat. “We’re supposed to be decorating for Christmas.”

“And so we shall!” Eddie claps his hands together. “Where should we start?”

“Let’s start with why there are skeletons on the couch,” Steve says, and Eddie tsks, like Steve is the one being weird.

“We’re going to decorate with them, obviously.”

“Skeletons are for Halloween, not Christmas.”

Eddie eyes Steve with that shrewd tilt to his mouth that never bodes well for Steve’s chances in an argument. “Says who?”

“Uh, everyone?”

“Oh, everyone. Is that all?” Eddie waves his hand dismissively. “You know, skeletons don’t stop existing just because it’s not October. In fact, I’ve got news for you, baby.” He steps closer to Steve, bringing his hands up to Steve’s hips and giving them a squeeze before leaning in to whisper, “there’s a skeleton inside of you right now.”

Steve scrunches his nose up in distaste. “Don’t say it like that,” he implores, and Eddie snickers.

“Too late, thought’s in your head now.” He leans in and pecks a kiss to Steve’s cheek before stepping away. “Besides, I have a plan to deal with the Christmas skeleton nay-sayers such as yourself!”

He goes to dig through the plastic shopping bags he’d come home from the store with, where Steve had only sent him to get another box of lights and some extra hooks for the gutters, not these new spooky-scary interlopers, who are still sitting on the couch, eyeing Steve with their empty sockets.

“Where did you even get these things, anyway?” Steve asks as Eddie digs.

“They were on sale, can you believe it?” Eddie says. “No one wanted the poor, bony bastards, so I brought ‘em home. Aha!”

From the depths of the rustling plastic Eddie unearths his treasure: two fur-trimmed Santa hats.

With what seems to Steve like a disproportionate amount of delight, Eddie sets about placing the hats onto the two bare, plastic skulls, tugging them around carefully and setting the pompoms at jaunty angles before he steps aside and gestures with a theatrical sweep of his arms.

“What d’you think?”

Steve blinks at two festive skeletons on the couch. What does he think?

He thinks that they only moved into this house a few months ago, and he doesn’t want anyone in the neighborhood to think they’re weird.

Which– okay, they are weird. Obviously. Everyone is going to find out. But Steve had been hoping that the idea could sort of bake in; that they’d have time to settle and become a part of the community before everyone figures it out, so they’d have a better chance of not getting frozen out. He’d had a plan.

But then again– Eddie is standing there grinning at Steve, so hopeful and pleased with himself, practically begging Steve to tag along with him on his weird little endeavor, and honestly? Steve would rather live as a socially ostracized hermit until the end of his days than make Eddie unhappy.

“I think you’d better find a good place outside to put them, and they’d better stay there, because if I wake up one morning and find out you moved one of those things outside our bedroom window, or somewhere inside the house, I’m divorcing you,” Steve says.

If anything, Eddie’s smile only grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” he says, his tone implying that he absolutely would.

All the same, Steve allows himself to be smothered with grateful kisses, and braces himself to deal with “mysteriously” moving Christmas skeletons for the rest of the season.

The things he does for love.

[honeyydrunk]

reasons for some of the jjk men on why i would and wouldn't fuck them. i think now would be a good time to mention that uh i'm not going to be saying no to anyone. gege akutami knew what would sell.

starting off strong with GOJO SATORU daddy's home home for me i know i've been waiting no lube no protection all night all day any position any location any time no matter what he asks even if it hurts me i'll just endlessly over and over again go towards you.

now WHY would i climb the beanstalk? let's go through the reasons. - he's hot i remember the teacher giving him her number - he's tall bro was planned to be made into a coathanger bc of those japanese genetics defying legs. and you know if he's tall then proportionately..... - he's fast in 299 seconds gojo satoru had slaughtered a train's worth of transfigured humans - his voice "you cryin?" "this is where you're weak right?" it doesn't matter i watched jjk in sub, i went onto youtube and listened to the uploaded audios of the dub

but why i'm not fucking that man until failure 😔 ?! - i'm not geto suguru. i may be delusional but i'm not blind. even kenjaku wasn't able to sway him, and he WAS suguru. - he's too whimsical for my liking. bro would answer a call while midstroke, teleport out, then return like 30 minutes later with souvenirs and go "yeah let's continue!!"

🎀 nanami kento 🎀 to me it's not just sex. i wish to marry someone like him. i'm ridiculously close to manifesting 'a husband like nanami kento'. as someone who let's just say is situated in the finance sector, no one wants that man more than me. it's embarrassing how nanami is like a living cheat code to everything i've ever wanted.

oh for to be a lawyer representing his office firm, occasionally coming in every few months and parading in mini skirts and high heels. acting as if we're only acquaintances during the meeting. and after the deposition we end up in the backseat of his car during his lunch break. seriously hoping no one from the office comes down and decides to check why his car is 'moving' like that. 🎀 why i'm going to give him 'marry me head' 🎀 (this is going to be a long list)

- he's a tall guy in finance. - he's blonde but in a hot way - his technique is finding someone's weak spots. - he's absolutely built - he takes things seriously. bro would take you throughly. - i have a thing for successful men - he pulls hair - he kills curses effortlessly - he's very good at being relaxed while in a fight - island holiday sex - that office attire with the suit does things - when he takes off the tie and wraps it around his hand, he should be wrapping it around my wrists. - he likes bread? i can give him cake - oh his job must be so stressful isn't it such a good thing i'm really good at massages - stability in this economy is like the hottest thing istfg - i've never seen a not HAWT nanami cosplayer (no one try and prove me wrong) - when he's mad it's crazy hot

why i'm sadly not riding that man until he places a ring on my finger in the malaysian sunset? - he wouldn't want a relationship. not because he doesn't desire one, but due to the demanding nature jujutsu sorcery, not only would that drain him out too much to care, but also because he wouldn't want to put his partner through the mental challenges of not knowing whether he'd return alive or death. and the mental challenges it would give his partner if he died. - i'm not 27. he gives me the horrific (for me) vibes that he'd only consider a relationship with someone who he's the same age as. - my japanese skills are really bad that makes communication in a relationship a problem.

🙈 geto suguru 🙈 hes beautiful, getting slightly too close to my type for comfort, but whether i could ignore my grievances with his lifestyle choices is yet to be debated. i have a lot of grievances with that why i would beg him to consider a one night stand w this monkey?!: - tall hot built how many times am i going to have to say tall hot built throughout this post. we KNOW the jjk men are fine. for sex the standard really is just if they're hot. - his hair his soft long black flowing princess hair everyday i thank twice and loona stans for existing. your lesbianism has stolen the scissors away from the hands of men. thank you for your service..

- he's so soft when treating people he likes i like people being nice to me

- i hate the clothes he wears as a cult leader are you pregnant with all those curses you're swallowing? like the way kenjaku definitely didn't swallow. because that outfit looks like villain maternity wear. the only upside is that it makes me even more motivated to get that man OUT of his clothes.

- something about his gentleman type personality with his either cult leader flair or his extreme dedication has me going crazy delusional as with nanami i am weak to men that have corporate expertise. it should scare me the way i cave. like okay i'll bleach my hair white and get blue contacts if that's what it takes to have you. please charm me and make me delusional

- he's hot while killing people aside from financially successful gentlemen, unfortunately i have the horrific ailment of snapping the minute i see a crazy guy with blood on his face that kills people with ease. and that one scene where he DECIMATED that guy and wiped the blood of his cheek ruined me

why i'm staying far FAR FAR FAR away - i may relate to gojo satoru but i'm not him bro isn't touching me. i'm not his blue eyed the strongest bc i'm gojo because i'm the strongest coat hanger overconfident sweet lover hates moral arguments high school bittersweet situationship.

- i actually HATE his moral argument due to the balance of equilibrium and market forces whatever, if jujutsu sorcerers were meant to be the prevailing thingy then they would be so. i could go into more detail but let's just say i couldn't be gojo because how could i be so selfless to let the situationship of my life go to chase a dream he'll never achieve for an argument that's wrong because he feels it to be more important than me. - he's got the megumi potential man effect "worst curse user" R U SRS? be fr. i know he handed tokyo student's asses back to them but i think he's just a heartbroken guy who's a little bad and has a goal or whatever. bro is NOT the worst curse user. - can't figure out if i would mind lobotomied geto or not. but he would definitely be freakier after those backshots he took. - his mouth probably tastes like a rag used to clean shit and vomit - to my knowledge i am not a jujutsu sorcerer

choso !! choso !! choso !! why i would?! OFC I WOULD

- this again at some point saying tall hot and built starts to get too repetitive. but when he pulled his clothing to the side during that fight with yuuji, i was staring for TOO LONG. - i think his blackhead pore strip is cute. - his personality is ridiculously cute. obviously this may sound odd but i think we can gather i'm rather odd. in MY opinion, it's cute. like idk his sincerity in his choices is very cute. - i know i could make him blush so easily.

why i wouldn't.... (unfortunately) - i'm not his brother if there's one thing i know about that man is that he is dedicated to his brothers. he will not hear anything i have to say and simply ignore me for i am not his brother i am a random person. - i don't want to carry on kenjaku's bloodline - family reunions w that man would be ridiculous - the cursed womb paintings 1-3 is a concept i don't wish to partake in

fushiguro toji he's a real one. didn't like his family so he finds himself a cute wife. he's absolutely goated w those skills. his choices with child raising leave me seriously concerned with what might happen after our sexual activities. i mean the minute he realises who megumi was after he resurrected he just went and killed himself. CRAZY. but yeah i'd fuck him - he's built - he's built - he had to make megumi somehow - bros got grey sweatpants and a compression shirt - he has that heavenly pact for physical prowess he should USE IT - lowkey like how the scar looks - he wants to hit core this is one way to do it - he's built - i can tell he would be good in bed call it a 7th sense

why i wouldn't: - he'd steal everything i own while i'm asleep - id have to pay him to fuck me - i am not his original wife, he's not going to want me. - i don't want those crazy zenin clan freaks knowing who i am - do i want him to traumatise my kid when hes revived again? - i don't like gambling addictions

sukuna ryomen.....

would...... - 4 arms - 2 dicks - doesn't he have a tongue on his stomach? - built - king of curses he can be the king of this pussy - i wanna ride him so bad while he sits on that throne of his - ngl whatever that white kimono he wears is hot - his voice - he's lowkey funny - he's hot i'm not even going to bother denying

why i wouldn't: - i'm not megumi - bro would kill me before i ask him if i can suck him off - why would he agree? - if i survived i feel i would be severely looked down upon for this choice of mine

mahito.... (hella ashamed for this not even lying) would: - he's built - he can change his body to anything wouldn't: - he'd kill me and he's not like nanami where death would be worth it for him

@saradika TSYM !! i googled and found the free spacers

next "why i wouldn't and wouldn't" will be the neos the nct boys (however long that takes with HOW MANY? members?)

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 37 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

You linger a little longer in the bathroom than John after your bath, performing those obligatory feminine tasks. Hair. Moisturizer. Nails... You are extra attentive to these things here, where personal appearance seems absolutely paramount. 

When you walk out to join him, wrapped up in your fluffy white hotel robe, you find him sitting in one of the chairs with his back to you, looking out the window at the city below. Cars flit past, people mill on the sidewalks. Manhattan never truly sleeps.

You lean your hip against his shoulder; automatically he reaches for you, his fingertips sliding up your thigh beneath the robe, making you shudder with the sweet thrill of his light touch tickling your skin. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring it. It takes you a while to notice he’s holding a little black box, turning it in his other hand. 

You’re not sure why the sight of it makes your heart sprint in your chest. 

“When the Camorra come…” He pauses with a long, tired sigh. “I want you to wear this.” 

He flips open the box with his thumb, extending it towards you without really looking at you. 

The object inside is bright and shiny, sparking blue fire in the low light. 

Your heart steps to the edge of a precipice and flings itself into a swan dive–you don’t know if rocks or water await below.

“Is that…an engagement ring?”

It’s a deco white gold setting adorned with a substantial–but not obscene diamond. You realize the filigree shapes are leaves and flowers–something that would become a nature girl like yourself. 

“Technically.” 

He doesn’t sound…happy. 

“In our world wives have standing; girlfriends are just fodder. I want them to know I’m serious about your safety.” 

His meaning dawns on you–and suddenly you’re not terribly happy either. 

“You want to get fake engaged?” 

“I won’t pressure you into something more than that right now, y/n. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

You realize the source of your own annoyance is that for a fleeting moment you’d thought it was real–and goddamn you for a fool, maybe he finally has truly fucked your brains out, but you know you would have said yes. 

“Where…did you get this?” you ask, looking at the little ring with all its grandiose meaning. It suits you to a T. He’d put thought into this…and it feels off. 

He’s quiet for a long time, before he finally admits, “In the antique shop, in Clear Forks. It made me think of you.”

You close your eyes at hearing this, suddenly dizzy. “When?” you ask, barely able to lift your voice over a whisper.

“You know when,” he answers, matching your volume. 

You think he maybe means in the interim when he’d locked you up like a princess in the tower, after your magnificent fight. Little did you know, that things had yet to really go to hell. “Were you…going to ask me for real?” You’re not sure why your eyes are suddenly stinging with tears. 

“I’m good with vows, y/n. Absolutes. The rest…has always been hard for me. I thought…that I was never a better man, than when I was a husband. I thought that was the man you deserved–the man I’d forgotten how to be. I thought I could find him again, if we…” He cuts himself short, squeezing the little box in his hand. You hear it creak in protest. “But now I see how selfish that idea was.”   

Maybe you should be relieved, that he decided against trying to bully you into a legally binding union with him–but as it stands now…it hurts, that he changed his mind. What a conundrum you find yourselves in. How things have changed, since he locked you up that day.

“Oh.” 

There must be something in your voice, because he finally looks up at you. “Honey…please don’t be sad.”

“I’m…I don’t know what I am,” you admit, making to go to the other chair. But he grabs you up before you can run away, depositing you across his lap. 

“I’ve hurt your feelings.” 

“Maybe?” 

You’re relieved that he’s arrived in this state of mind. You really are. It’s just…complicated.

If he had sprung this on you after you’d been isolated in the bedroom for days on end, pining for him, certain you’d ruined everything… Oh. What a coup indeed. You might have agreed then too, but certainly not for the same reasons.

Or were they?

Can you trust your own judgment when it comes to this man at all?

“I’m just…trying to protect you.” 

In that moment you’re not sure if he means from the Camorra, or himself.

“I get that.”

“Then…?”

“I don’t know…” you sigh, snuggling under his chin, and you’re not lying about that. You’re tired, too tired to process this right now. “Will you hold me?”

He says nothing, just wraps his arms more snugly around you, and you watch the nighttime goings-on of New York out the window from the safety of your crow’s nest, together.

***

“What a lovely ring,” says Winston, seating himself beside you on the roof, Dog at your feet. You’ve taken to wearing it early so everyone can get the appropriate eyeful–apparently assassins are terrible gossips in their off time. And maybe Winston notices it, because you’re glaring at the damn thing like it owes you money. 

You just can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it’s not such a big deal to John, because he’s been married before…but this is all new to you. You’re not the kind of girl who’s ever gotten caught up in worrying about marriage, or weddings, but this has unexpectedly hit you in a tender place. 

The decidedly tinny voice of reason inside you assures you that it would be bat fuck crazy to marry John Wick, after everything he put you through. But your heart? The heart wants what the heart wants, and that bitch is loud.

Maybe the trauma of all these extreme circumstances has simply fried your brain, made you want to cling to the man who seems like a safe shelter right now. 

But it occurs to you on reflection that maybe, John’s obsessive brand of love is what you’ve wanted all along. To be the object of his devotion, even to the point of madness–it ticks some primeval box deep inside your brain, and you wonder if a part of you somehow knew all along. You like it. You thrive on it. When you love someone you give them everything. Why should you settle for anything less on the other side, the way you always have, your whole goddamned life?

When your parents split and started new families it felt like they abandoned you. You went from being their perfect little darling to a mistaken product of a previous marriage.  Your mother would insist with an oblivious laugh that you seemed so self-sufficient she didn’t feel like she needed to take care of you anymore. That wasn’t how it felt to you, while your little world crumbled around you, and you know deep down your need to be liked by everyone is undoubtedly tied up in this somehow.  

Your need to be loved by John? For better or worse…it’s the air you breathe. How sad, how paltry a nice normal love would seem, after this. Maybe that’s not healthy–but it’s your truth. 

No other man will ever do for you, after this.  

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

“Are congratulations in order?”

“Sure.” 

You’re not sure if Winston is in on the ruse or not–it’s funny, in this world in which you’ve been told to trust no one, you find it hard to lie to this elegant old man. Maybe you have daddy issues too.

“I see our Jonathan’s tendency to monosyllabic conversation has rubbed off on you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sitting up in your seat, trying not to appear like a sulky teenager, sure you’re failing utterly. “It’s just complicated. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the sculpted figures in the molding in the lobby, they’re very interesting.” 

Always keen to chat about his design choices in his beloved hotel, he proceeds to tell you all about it.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: So I had to post this chapter in 2 parts because of how long it was and the formatting was weird otherwise. So here we are, and 2 part chapter! But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 2

Charlie eventually left after a few hours of convincing Sam and Dean that I would be absolutely fine infiltrating the club without them. At least at first. Some negotiations took place and after a while we all came to an agreement - I’d go in, scope the place out and unlock every door before leaving and letting the boys take over, handing over the intel on who everyone was and where they were stationed. This would make the kills less messy and reduce civilian casualties. Once this decision was made, we ate dinner before the guys went back upstairs to get as much information on the strip club as possible, whilst I went to finish the laundry from earlier.

I’d dropped Sam’s clothes off in his room before I headed Deans room to deposit his. Upon arriving, I twisted the handle and let myself in, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him before placing the neat stacks of clothing on his bed. Patting the top on the piles to ensure they wouldn’t topple over, I was turning to leave when something caught my eye. It was a pile of napkins and receipts crumpled up and tossed in the bin by the door - the same ones that made me feel so deflated earlier today. I smiled, feeling some semblance of relief course through me as I made my way upstairs again. As I walked I pondered; the Winchesters unknowing of the fact that I’d spent a short amount of time taking exotic dance classes. My ex boyfriend had paid for them so I could give him a ‘private show’ in cheap lingerie, and not to toot my own horn but I was pretty good at what I did back then so this should be a breeze. The only thing was that now I had a point to prove, and boy was I going to prove it.

I strode into the room where the boys were - Deans head in his hands and Sam’s face pressed to the inside of a book that was open on the table. He could have been asleep, if it wasn't for the fact that his eyes opened when I walked in. Without saying a word I grabbed an empty chair and set it in the middle of the room away from the desks and bookcases, making both men flinch at the abruptness.

“What are you doing?” Dean quizzed, lifting his head from his hands.

“Proving to you that I’m perfect for this case.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and I was unsure if he was catching on. I grabbed his phone from the table, unlocking it and finding the perfect song to play, settling on ‘Apocalyptic’ by Halestorm. At the start of the music he seemed to realise what was going on and he sat up eagerly, watching me intently as I undid my hair from its ponytail. I ruffled it up close to the roots, putting some volume in there as he went to stand up. I placed my fingertips on his chest and pushed gently, making him sit back down in his chair. I shook my head.

“Not you.”

He looked at me, puzzled; however his jaw dropped when I took Sam’s hand and urged him to stand. Sam had been paying minimal attention and just about knew what was going on when I gently pushed on his toned stomach, moving him backwards towards the chair in the middle of the room. I felt my heart do a small flip at the sheer size of the younger Winchester, this being my first time standing so close to him. And he smelt softer than Dean - less leather and gunpowder and more mint and fresh linens. I looked up at Sam through my lashes, watching his chest rise and fall more rapidly than before as he scanned my face. I smiled.

“Just relax, Sam. I Promise I don’t bite - at least not unless you want me to,” as the words left my lips I heard a SNAP and looked over at Dean, who’d now crushed the pencil he was using into splinters. I couldn’t help but smirk, starting to enjoy this perhaps a little more than I should. I pushed on Sam’s hips, urging him to sit, now in perfect view of his older brother. I stood in between Sam’s thighs and looked down at him, watching how his big eyes followed my hands as I slid them down over his shoulders and chest before running them back up again, tracing a single finger up over his Adam’s apple and tilting his chin up to look at me. The moment his eyes met mine his lips parted slightly and I leaned in close, so close that I could almost taste him. He let out the quietest groan and I whispered over his lips:

“I’ll try to make this enjoyable.”

I was bending over slightly, feeling my already very short skirt ride up. I sashayed around Sam, swaying my hips to the music and trailing my hands over his body with feather-light touches. Every time I did I felt him tense up or let out a small noise, especially when I crouched down behind the chair and slid myself underneath it, appearing between his legs and pushing myself up, my own legs straight and spread wide as I leant forwards. I now faced Dean, making eye contact with him as he watched me slide my hands up Sam’s thighs as I perched myself in his lap, swaying my hips as I pressed into him. I heard him suck in a breath at the contact, his manhood twitching in his jeans beneath the softness of my ass. I brought my knees and ankles together in a ladylike fashion before spreading them wide again, my legs pressing hard into the inside of Sam’s thighs. Deans knuckles went white as I ran my hands over my body and through my hair, biting my bottom lip sensually. Feeling Sam’s hands graze my knees, they slowly started to trail up my thighs as he snuck touches in where he could. My heart fluttered in my chest - his hands were already treating me far more gently than Deans did. I let him touch me for a few moments before I smacked his hands away and stood up. Spinning to face him I flipped my hair back, and slowly - oh so slowly - traced my hands down my own figure. As I outlined every curve I lowered myself so I was kneeling right before him - right between his legs that were spread wide like my own as my bare knees rested on the cold floor. I ghosted my hands up the inside of his thighs as he let out a shaky breath. I smiled up at him, but it seemed he was past the niceties as I noticed how dark his eyes had gone. I drew my hands back and spun around so I was now facing Dean whilst still nestled between Sam’s thighs. The older brother had pulled his chair out for a better view as his elbows rested on his knees as his large palms came together - as though in prayer - in front of his plump, kissable lips. He stared at me, unmoving and barely blinking, as though he were in a trance. Still on my knees, I threw Dean a coy grin before I placed my hands on the floor and walked them forwards, my ass now completely on show to Sam as my denim skirt did nothing to keep me covered. My back dipped in a feline manner as my chest came into contact with the floor, and I couldn’t help but think to myself that I would put money down that Dean loves this position for rough, pleasure-seeking sex. I hummed to myself at the thought of him fucking me into his mattress like this; one large, rough hand on my hip and the other propping himself up over me as he would moan my name and I would lose myself in his bedsheets.

I tore myself away from my daydream by sliding my hands forward so I was laying on my front before rolling onto my back, tilting my head back so I was looking at Dean upside down, my hair pooling around me. I gnawed on my bottom lip again as I planted both feet on the floor so my knees were bent and touching, before lifting one leg as gracefully as I could into the air and pointing my toes. Reaching my arms up, I gently touched my ankle and trailed my fingers over my leg, up my thigh - catching on my skirt and lifting it higher - along the soft skin of my exposed torso and over my breasts. I then dragged my fingers through my hair and over my scalp, my outstretched arms lifting my tank top a little - flashing Sam some braless underboob. I heard him moan and shuffle in his chair, however my eyes were still locked with Deans, and I watched as the older brother leant back and spread his legs a little wider, adjusting himself in his jeans as he laced his fingers together over his abdomen. Without missing a beat, I flipped myself back over onto my stomach and played the previous motions in reverse - sliding upwards so I was on all fours and then back to being just on my knees. I turned so I was facing Sam again, grinning at his hooded eyes and slack jaw as I placed my hands on his knees and pushed myself up to standing. I stepped around him slowly, my hands running down his broad shoulders as I moved to stand behind him. I leant down and whispered into his ear, his head dipping to the side slightly as my breath fanned out over his hot skin:

“Admit it, I’m perfect for the case.”

I watched his eyes flutter closed as he replied in a breathy voice.

“Yes… you’re perfect…” he paused, like he’d forgotten to finish his sentence, “…perfect for the case, I mean.”

I smiled as I stood up straight, catching Deans piercing gaze again.

“I’m going to bed - it’s been a long day. You boys should too,” my voice came out perhaps a little more sultry than I expected.

They both nodded, humming in response as I turned away, walking to my bedroom and leaving behind me at least one testosterone-field time bomb.

I’ll probably regret that whole ordeal in the morning

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Up Next:

Chapter 9

[st5rni]

BACK TO YOU

matthew sturniolo fan fiction

WARNINGS : smut, angst if you squint, ex to lovers

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

after a long night of playing board games with the triplets in their living room, everyone begins to get bored and pack it all up.

"i'll sleep on the couch," you say, not wanting to intrude on any of their rooms. it's been a while since you've seen all three of them, especially after you and matt broke up, so everything seems to be a bit hesitant.

chris puts his arm around your shoulder, "nah thats fine, sleep in the guest bedroom upstairs. we usually have madi or nate stay in there when they come over, so you can temporarily take their place." he insists, giving you his best smile despite being half asleep.

"okay, that works." you agree, standing up and yawning, "which way is it?" trying to remember which floor the guest bedroom is on.

"its the room next to mine." matt says, "you remember, right? you went in the guest bedroom once while trying to find your way to my room when we first moved here." he laughs a bit as he says this, reflecting on that time. back when you two were still together.

you stare at him for a moment before answering, "yeah, um, i remember." you say awkwardly, tucking your hair behind your hair and tying it up so your hands have something to do besides pick at your hangnails. the whole room is quiet now, the tension being very clear to all four of you.

matt fiddles with his rings, "uh, okay goodnight." he says before speed walking away to his room as quickly as he could.

"you two make things so awkward." nick says bluntly while he puts up the uno cards, "like why are you both still like this? just get back together." nick suggests with a snark, chris nodding in agreement.

you feel a blush grow on your cheeks, not sure if from embarrassment or not, "you think he'd want to? i don't know i just felt like he was over it by now. i fucked our relationship up." you admit, trying to sound casual about it, and not as desperate for him as you actually are.

"do i think?" nick laughs, "he wears the horse necklace you bought him almost everyday, even in videos. he still has photos of you two on his desk. he's more in love with you than he was before the breakup, i think." he says with a shrug, lowering his voice a bit so matt doesnt overhear

chris jumps in, "i mean.. why did you two break up, anyways? he never wanted to talk about it." his words had hesitance to them, like he was scared it'd break you if he asked.

"i broke up with him because of the distance, but now i-" you pause your words, wondering if you should tell them now, "i.. i was planning on waiting to tell you guys this but, um, im moving to LA. we have a deposit on a house and everything."

"NO WAY??" chris practically screams before running to give you a hug that even nick joins, "that's great!! why do you seem so like, upset about it?" chris questions, genuinely confused on why you didn't even smile when telling them the news.

you put your face in your hands, "it's embarrassing. i can't even tell you guys- just.. it's stupid." you try and stray away from the LA conversation, not wanting to admit you moved here primarily to try and get closer with matt again, "do you think he'd want to ever.. get back together? or, like, at least talk about it?"

"i mean, i think so?" nick says, some doubt in his words, "i dont know about getting back together, it.. hit him pretty hard." he admits, crossing his arms as he says that, knowing he shouldn't be telling you what he is.

you nod, words not able to form properly anymore, "okay.. uh, goodnight guys." you decided it was best to end the conversation here before you cried in front of them. something you'd never hear the end of. giving them a weak smile, you walk to the guest bedroom you'd be sleeping in.

while you go up there stairs, you reconsider the conversation with nick.

maybe there's just the slightest chance he would ever want you back. but honestly? it was likely the opposite. after you'd hurt him so badly, it only makes sense for him to hate you. you don't even blame him, either.

that thought hurt more than anything, and you needed an answer to whether it was true or not.

you look at the two doors in front of you, knowing one is matts room and the other is the guest bedroom. you could drop everything now, leave matt alone, and completely remove him from your life.

..but you love him too much to not have that closure. you need a final answer.

slowly, you open up his door and peak through the sliver of it, looking in his room.

there matt was.

he was on his bed, shirtless and sweating. his eyes were shut and he was practically panting as he was jerking himself into his own hand.

"fuck, fuck- fuck." you hear him muttering under his breath, and with just your luck, you lean on the door, causing it to accidentally open more than you meant to, causing him to look up and see you staring at him, "FUCK!" he yells, before covering himself with his blanket.

"SORRY— IM SORRY!" you yell back, slamming the door closed immediately after. "shit." you whisper to yourself, recollecting what just happened.

just seeing that. fuck, you had forgotten how much he turns you on.

a couple minutes pass by, matt opens the door, his face flushed and hair messy, still not entirely calmed down yet. he runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. "um, sorry. whats up?" he tries to ignore the awkward situation lingering in both of their minds.

you clear your throat, and start fidgeting with your fingers, "can we- um, can we talk?" you ask, also still trying to recover. that was not something you'd just forget about. ever. "please?"

"what?" he stutters, "i mean, sure. yeah, come in." he clears the door so you can walk in his room, "its kind of messy, sorry."

you look around matts room, noticing how things were different, but still familiar, "you rearranged things." you state, mainly talking to yourself, still observing.

suddenly you remember what nick said, and look towards his desk and see the photos of you two framed sitting there, exactly where they had always been.

"so.." matt starts, "what'd you want to talk about?" he asks, once again fiddling with his rings.

"oh," you had almost forgot, "i just.. fuck this is gonna sound stupid. um. matt, do you— um... i should have thought about this before i came here." you blush, now embarrassing yourself.

he tries to give you a smile, but fails, "its okay. you can sit down if you want." he offers, sitting down on his bed to try and make you more comfortable towards the idea.

you look at him, and just admire him. how could someone be this sweet? "thank you." you say, accepting the offer while you sit down next to matt. probably closer than you should, "matt do you hate me?" you spit out, trying to get it out of the way.

"what?" he asks softly, almost like the question offended him. "thats a joke, y/n." he scoffs.

"im serious!" you insist, looking directly at him, "i know what i did was fucking horrible, and unfair, and selfish. and i never should have done it but—"

matt interrupts you, standing up, "Y/N what are you talking about? you broke up with me. if anyone hates anyone, its you who hates me." he thinks for a second, "i wish i hated you." he says in a quiet voice, but it had some harshness to it.

"matt, no!" you immediately refute, standing up as well, "i care about you— i promise i care. its all ive been thinking about for months. i mean, fuck, i miss you matt. im still in love with you. i never stopped."

"thats not fair and you know it, y/n." matt turns his face from you, "i have been waiting that maybe there was a chance we could ever try again and as soon as im coming to terms that it wont happen you pull this shit. im not going to do this again knowing it'll have the same result of you thriving in boston with all your friends completely forgetting about me while im here still wearing the stupid fucking necklace you got me on our first date." his voice was shaky, everything he was holding back this whole time had exploded at once.

you feel a salty tear run down your face despite your efforts to stop them, "please, just— this is different. it's different this time i promise." you beg, trying to get words out but hardly being able to, "just, hear me out and it can be your decision on what we-"

matt turns to you again, "i said no y/n." he hesitates when he sees your tears, his expression softening a bit, "you— you were right. it'll never work with you in boston."

"im moving to LA." you blurt out, and that's all you say for a second. a lot of emotions flash on matts face at those words, but you cant make out any of them. you take a deep breath, "i missed you, and boston wasnt taking me anywhere for my future. i..." you think for a moment. "i see you in my future."

matt stares at you, not reacting in any visible way at this point. you start panicking when he still doesn't say anything.

"but, if you dont want that that's okay too— ill stay away, or like— i can go back to boston, i just have a deposit on the house its no big—" your sentence gets cut off by matt walking towards you, grabbing you by the waist, and pulling you in for a kiss.

as your lips connect, he moves one hand to your face. his touch is loving, forgiving. just how you'd remembered it. you didnt kiss him back at first due to the initial shock. he pulls away, "stay." is all he and mumbles before kissing you again.

this time you immediately kiss back, wrapping your arms around his neck just like you used to. his body pressed against yours. its everything is just how it was, but somehow even better. the emotions are strong, enveloping both of you.

his lips move against yours as he moves his hands down to your hips, making your stomach tie in knots and your face warm. suddenly you're acutely aware of every action, every sensation, every thought, every feeling. its all heightened as you realize the situation you're in

the kiss comes to an end, and you stare at him, unable to suppress the smile from your face, "so.. you do still love me?"

matt cant help but laugh, causing you to join him, putting your face against his chest, "y/n, i just went on a whole rant about how i love you. then i kissed you. i think you can put two and two together."

"yeah, well... i miss hearing it." you pull your face from his chest so you can see him again, looking into his light blue eyes, then his whole face. you missed this so much.

"in that case," he kisses your head, "i love you, y/n. so much." his thumb gently caresses the areas of your cheeks that are tear-stained. "and to make it official, can i be your boyfriend again?" he asks, his voice genuine and sensitive. you know he's wanted to say that for so long, and so have you.

you bring him in for a hug this time, "i love you more, matt. and yes, you can." you say, taking in everything as you do.

you finally had matt again after all this time, and this time you weren't letting go. not again.

"matt," you softly say to get his attention, and lift your head up to kiss him again, he immediately kisses back, and picks you up as he does.

you wrap your legs around him, not removing yourself from the kiss. he sits on the bed with you in his lap.

the kiss is passionate, and slowly getting more heated as both of you are overcame with each other. you're pressing down on him, softly grinding against his crotch. it was already hard considering you interrupted him just a few minutes before. the atmosphere of the room changes, its sudden, both of you knowing where this was leading and neither wanting to change it.

he grabs your hips and pulls you down on him harder, your touch to him becoming even more intimate now. he's breath is heavy while you focus on making him feel as good as possible, missing being like this with him. missing seeing him like this.

as things were heating up, he brings the kiss a short stop, "y/n, are you sure you want to go farther with this? i was already kind of.. you know, when you came to talk to me. we just got back together, i dont want you to rush into this if you'll regret it." he checks, not wanting to ruin things because of one stupid choice.

as obvious as it was that you wanted this, it still meant a lot he had asked you. you almost forgot how caring hes always been with you, "i want you, matt. i promise. i want you in every way." as soon as you say this, as if a switch was turned on, he dips his head down and starts kissing at your exposed neck, making a small gasp escape your lips.

hes making sure he leaves marks, biting and sucking in every place, not hurting you, but instead making you more and more needy. you bring your hands up to his hair and run your fingers through it, still as soft as its always been.

"y/n, y'know what i was thinking of earlier?" he asks you as he moves his kisses up to your jaw, blissfully taking in every little noise you would make.

"n-no." you stutter out, trying to focus on his words when all your brain could linger on was the thought of him being inside of you, "tell me?"

you feel his lips curl into a smile, "i was thinking of you. of us. just being like this, your mouth on me again. me inside of you again." he mumbles, just loud enough to where you can hear it, his breath hot against you're skin.

you bite your lip softly, "i remember." your voice is soft, thinking about touching him like that again, "can i.." you trail off your words, getting off his lap to sit on your knees in front of him, and you softly touch his sweatpants waistband.

he lifts his hips up for a moment to help you pull off his pants and boxers easier as he takes off his own shirt.

you stare at his length in front of you, hard with pre cum leaking at the tip. you look up at him staring at you, waiting to see what you do next.

you move one hand to wrap around his base, he shudders at the sudden feeling despite as gentle as you were.

remembering what he likes, you rub your finger against his tip teasingly, just touching it enough to make it somewhat of a tickling, pleasurable sensation.

you look up at him, lust hazy in your eyes before looking back down and licking the tip, swirling your tongue as agonizingly slow as you could .

"fuck, y/n." he hissed, the desperation clear in his voice. he moves one hand to your hair, keeping the other still on the bed as he throws his head back.

after a bit more teasing, you finally put your whole mouth around his tip, and slowly bring your head down.

matts breaths are fast paced and rigid, keeping his hand in your hair as he tightens his grip subconsciously, his mind fuzzy from the slow pace.

you bring your head back up his length, bobbing it up and down. you use your hands to reach any place your mouth cant, swirling your tongue against his base and getting where you knew all his sensitive spots were.

he's letting out soft moans, trying to stay quiet so no one would hear him. he watches you intensely, admiring the sight, "you're so fucking pretty Y/N." he breathes out, slightly bucking his hips into your mouth, loving the feeling of you on him.

you continue like this for a little bit more, enjoying making him feel this way. not too much time passes before he gently pulls you off of him right as he's getting close, "not yet." he mutters, taking deep breaths as he comes down from a high.

you stand up and he pulls you back into his lap, but this time he grabs your waist tightly and flips your positions, pinning you down to the bed.

matt reaches for the hem of your tank top, looking at you, his eyes half lidded, wanting permission to take it off of you.

in response, you lift your back and help him pull it off you. you're about to unhook your bra as well before matt moves your hands out of the way and does it effortlessly.

"its still your favorite?" he asks, motioning towards the bra. its lacy pink one. it was really cute and surprisingly comfortable at the same time.

and you knew it always made you irresistible to matt.

"i only wear it when i see you." you admit breathlessly, before fully taking it off and throwing it off to the side, it now laying on his floor.

he lightly caresses your body, dragging his hands up from your torso to your breasts, feeling every curve you had, "just like i remember." he whispers, before leaning to shower your entire upper body in kisses. "my beautiful girl."

matt continues to kiss down until he gets to your shorts, and he softly pulls both your shorts and panties down, cherishing every bit of you being revealed.

once he takes off those last bits of your clothes, he admires you while he rubs the inside of your thigh, "i missed you, Y/N. not just like this, i missed every moment of you. so much." he says as he takes off his rings, putting them on the bedside table. "i missed being inside you, too."

your face turns red, eyes glued on his hands now, curious on his next actions, "matt-" he interrupts you by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to rub your clit. "fuck!" you gasp, the sudden feeling shocking you.

matt continues to rub in small circles, your back arching as he does so, "have you been with anyone else?" he asks, kissing your stomach as he speaks, unable to keep himself off you.

"no." you tell him honestly through pants.

matt hums softly, and slowly brings his finger down your hole, before putting it inside you easily from how wet you were, looking at your reaction as he does so, "so tight..." he whispers. "does this hurt? when was the last time you-"

"i dont." you interrupt him, knowing what he's going to ask, "i mean i like, i do stuff.. i just— i only let you do it."

matt smiles against your chest, "ill take care of you baby." he says gently, coming up to kiss your jawline and softly biting as he does so. you feel him curl his finger inside of you, "can i add another one?"

you hesitantly nod, not able to get any words out. the first finger was just starting to feel good as he continued to move it inside of you, he brings his other hand down to rub your clit more as well, making you twitch from the overstimulation.

"use your words," he orders, his voice soft but eyes full of hunger. "i wanna hear you." he brings another finger to your entrance, teasing you by just putting the fingertip in.

you shut your eyes, "please, matt. please put another finger in." you beg, opening your legs more to urge him to do it faster.

"perfect." he says, before putting another finger in, this one more of a struggle, "is that good for you?" he asks, knowing its been a while and not wanting to rush you.

"yes. yeah, thank you. fuck." you reassure, gripping the bedsheet to steady yourself. it wasnt a lot, but it was the most you've had in a while. not to mention its matt.

he chuckles softly against your skin, and brings his head up to kiss you. he moves the hand rubbing your clitoris to grab both of your wrists and pin them above your head. there wasn't too much force, but his grip was just tight enough, "why are you thanking me? it should be the other way around."

he spreads his fingers inside of you, trying to get you ready for whats to come. after the stinging pain was gone, it felt blissful. matts always been good with his fingers, but you forgot how good.

after a while, he had added another finger, prepping and teasing you by dragging it out for as long as he could make you last.

you had begun to grind yourself down on his fingers, trying to get them to go even further inside you, "matt. please, im ready. please. i need you so badly." you plead, your legs twitching from his touch.

"alright, since you've been so patient." he complies, slowly removing his fingers from you, making you shiver from the empty feeling, and letting your wrists go. he brings himself forwards, and you subconsciously wrap your legs around his waist. "let me know when you're ready."

you exhale shakily, feeling matt rub against your entrance. whether he's just trying to get ready, or if hes purposely teasing you, it makes your stomach heat up in that familiar way.

you look at him after a moment, and see the desire as he stares back at you, "im ready." you say, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck.

at that very same time, he slowly pushes inside you, causing you to let out a sharp gasp, "fuck..." you hiss in pain, closing your eyes.

"it's okay, im going slow. im almost fully in. just let me know when you're ready for me to move, baby." he comforts, running a hand through your hair, the other one gripping your waist.

you eventually feel him come to a stop after what feels like forever, knowing that means he's finally in, "im sorry. im almost ready, shit." you're trying to stop yourself from showing it hurts, knowing its going to feel amazing after a second. remembering how amazing he feels.

he shakes his head immediately, knowing how long it's been for you, "no, dont apologize. take your time." he inhales slowly, "y/n, you feel so fucking good already." he shuts his eyes now too, your walls tightening more around him the longer he stays still inside you.

"okay. okay." you speak up after a few silent moments, "move, please. im ready." you whimper, moving your hands to grab his shoulders, tightening your grip on him to prepare yourself.

matt nods, and slowly pulls himself back and forward again. it stings, but already hurts less than you thought it would.

"faster." you let out in a breathy sigh, looking directly at him now that you're more used comfortable towards the feeling.

"wont fight you on that one, baby." he huffs out, increasing his pace gradually so it's not too much at once for you.

now you have yourself arching your back as he thrusts into you rapidly. he's being gentle, but it's just enough so you can feel his passion. you can feel how badly he wants you.

he's letting out breathy moans, and is leaning into you while continuing at his pace, not taking even the slightest break.

your legs and hips are shaking, bucking up for as much friction as you can get during this, the pleasure building more and more.

you can hear his pants next to your ear, he leans in to kiss you despite not being properly able to. the kiss is sloppy, but heated. there's so much love behind it, and you know you can both feel it, "fuck y/n. you're so perfect, such a good girl. ive wanted this for so long baby, you have no idea." his words are broken apart as he ruts against you.

"im close." you say, his words bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, already still recovering from that high from earlier you know you wont last long, "can i cum, please?"

matt inhales sharply, bringing his hand to your neck and squeezes softly subconsciously. matt slowly nods, "yes. fuck, yes."

with matts permission, you let out a moan saying matts name, slightly hoarse from the grip he has on your neck. you feel yourself grow warmer than before as you release, biting your bottom lip, trying to keep a little bit of dignity for yourself.

"fuck." matt sighs out. "me, too. im- fuck, i have to-" he quickly pulls out and releases all over your stomach and breasts, his mouth open as whimpers fall out of it.

"fuck. sorry." he apologizes, leaning over to grab a towel.

he quickly wipes his cum off you, and throws the towel in a bin of other dirty clothes, "do you need to take a shower or anything?" he asks, clearly still out of breath.

thats an obvious no since you can hardly talk, let alone stand up for that long, "no its okay." you respond as you scoot up, patting a spot on the bed, "just stay here with me. or, i— i can leave if you want me too—" you panic, not knowing if he wanted you to leave or not. you didn't want to have the wrong idea and invade in matts privacy.

"no, y/n." he laughs softly, "stay, please. just give me one second, okay? ill be right back." matt grabs some underwear and sweatpants and throws them on before kissing your forehead and leaving the room.

a few minutes pass by, and he comes back holding a plate of some of your favorite snacks and two bottles of water. "i know its late, so you probably don't want anything to eat right now, but at least drink some water for me if you can." he hands you the water and puts the snacks down on top of the drawers next to you, "do you want some clothes to sleep in? a sweater? you're cold, arent you?"

you just stare at him admiringly for a beat, wondering how you got so lucky as to have this wonderful man back in your life, "dont stress, matt. you dont need to do all of this. can you just hand me my underwear and maybe a jacket or something?" you request, a smile on your face. you missed this feeling so much.

"yeah, totally. here," matt grabs your underwear and a random ransom hoodie he has and hands them to you. you quickly put them on, and matt crawls in bed with you, "come here." he whispers softly, wrapping his arm around you and running his fingers up and down your arm, "i missed you."

a gentle smile forms on your lips as you lean into his touch. "i missed you, too."

matts silent again, lost in thought, "why dont you just stay here? i mean, it might be too soon but— it'd save money for you and plus you'd be here most of the time anyways. plus, i could see you more."

your face is immediately covered in a blush at the implication. its a risky idea, but hes right. it'd make more sense, after all you were going to be here more than your own house anyways, "you know what? i dont think thats a bad idea. if it means i get to live like this everyday, im definitely down." you snicker while leaning more into matts chest, "but the issue is i signed to live there for at least 6 months already."

"that's okay," matt assures you. "as long as you're nearby, you know?"

you nod, leaning in to kiss him softly. his hand gives your waist a gentle squeeze before chuckling softly.

"round two?"

A/N

hope u enjoy!! part 2 is in the making

[j2h5b5]

There was only one thing that could have dragged Steve out of bed at two in the morning when he was nursing a booze-induced headache and an Eddie Munson-induced heartache.

“We need you,” she said.

He didn’t even bother putting on a jacket.

***

Dustin was sloppy, red-eyed and so unsteady that when Steve thunked a strong hand down on his shoulder, he almost lost his balance turning away from the group of asshats he’d taken up with to see who had grabbed him. Some of the drink in his hand sloshed over the sides of the cup and dribbled down the front of his shirt and onto the already filthy kitchen floor.

“Hey, what the—” he began, and then he dragged his gaze up to land on Steve.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when those same eyes would’ve lit up at the sight of his babysitter slash idol slash best friend. He would wrap him in a hug if it had been a day or two since he’d seen him, or sling a companionable arm around him, or punch him good-naturedly in the arm in hopes of initiating a play scuffle, which inevitably ended with him in a headlock getting his mop of curls aggressively tousled because he was just never going to have any kind of athletic edge on Steve.

But now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the younger boy asked in a tone so sharp and cold and so very NOT-Dustin that it made Steve’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“Hey, man,” Steve said, aiming for casual if only to keep Dustin from embarrassing himself in front of his new asshat friends. “Can I talk to you? Step outside with me for a sec, okay?”

“Um, no,” Dustin bit out. “This’s my party, i'ss my house. It would be rude to leave my guests.”

“Yeah, since you brought that up … who are these people?” Steve swept his gaze over the Henderson kitchen, which was almost unrecognizable with all of the clutter, displaced furniture, and wasted teenagers. “And Dustin … where’s your mom?”

“Not here.”

“Well yeah, I kind of gathered that. Listen, Dust…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are the others here?”

“Oh, you mean the traitors who called and ratted me out to YOU? Who the fuck cares?” His voice lowered to what he seemed to think was a conspiratorial level but was really just an extremely loud stage whisper. “Maybe they tripped and fell and landed their buzzkill asses back in the Upside Down.”

“Okay, that’s it.”

Before Dustin could protest, the cup was plucked from his hand and tossed expertly across the room, over the heads of several unwary drunken youths and into the crusty-dish-crowded sink and he was being towed along behind Steve through the kitchen, the living room, out the front door.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Let go of me! Let go!” Dustin struggled against the vise grip on his bicep but only succeeded in ensuring he’d probably have finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

Steve paid him no mind until he had deposited the boy into the passenger seat of his car, slammed the door, and locked it. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, unlocked it only long enough to get in, relocked it, and turned to Dustin.

“First of all,” he began loudly, drowning out Dustin’s sputtering attempts to find the words he wanted to hurl at Steve in his outrage at being manhandled out of his own party. “First of all. Joking about the Upside Down in a room full of strangers? NOT OKAY.”

“They don’t even know what—”

“Not. Fucking. Okay. SECOND, if you ever imply again that one of ours should BE in the Upside Down, you will find yourself with my foot so far up your ass you’ll choke on my shoe, and if you think I’m joking about that, Dustin, try me.”

This time there was only an eye-roll from Dustin, because he kind of didn’t want to try Steve on that point and because he kind of felt bad about saying it.

“Third, your friends are not traitors. They care about you and they’re worried about you; they called me for help because you’re treating them like shit and shut down every attempt they make to help you. Listen, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, Dustin, but you have to let someone help you. You’re not okay, buddy. This isn’t you. And all this shit you’re doing, the drinking and the partying and the pretending not to give a damn? It isn’t going to fix anything. It … it won’t bring him back.”

“Shut up!” Dustin shouted, flinching so hard at the words that he smacked the back of his head against the side window. Steve winced at the sound of skull meeting glass and resisted the urge to reach out and check for blood, or a bump. Dustin seemed not to have noticed that he’d nearly brained himself, infusing his next words with all the venom he could muster. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Steve. Even if you were right, it’s none of your business what I do! I am none of your business.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Dustin. Of course you’re my business.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! What are you saying?”

Dustin barked out a humorless laugh. “As much as I’d like to sit here with you and have a heart to heart right now, I have to get back to my guests.”

“No,” Steve snapped, reaching over Dustin to slap down the peg lock when the teen yanked it up. “We’re not done here. Now I can go inside and clear out your house and we can talk there, or you can drop the bullshit and talk to me right now.”

“You’re not shutting down my party.”

“Then we talk here.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Right, sure you don’t. Maybe I can give you some words, then. How about this, Dustin? How about: ‘Hey, Steve, you useless idiot loser, you promised to keep us safe and then you fucked it all up like you always do. The plan didn’t work and Max got hurt and Eddie fucking died, and you couldn’t stop it. I hate you for that, for lying and making us feel safe and telling us it was going to be okay. I can’t even look at you anymore and I hate my friends because they don’t hate you for some reason, but we know, don’t we? We know whose fault it is that we came back a man short. It’s yours, Steve. Yours.’” Steve’s voice was cracked and painful, like he’d been eating gravel and chasing it with cheap whisky and cigarettes. It hurt, that voice. “How’s that, Dust?” he finished, staring unflinching into Dustin’s shocked eyes. “Am I in the ballpark?”

Before Steve could react, Dustin unlocked his door and flung himself out of the car. He was drunk and it was dark, though, and he only made it a few yards before tripping and landing hard on the grass. Steve was on him almost instantly, hauling him up by the arms and scanning him for injuries.

He didn’t see the punch coming, wouldn’t have believed Dustin Henderson capable of such an effective hit, right in the mouth, knocking him back a couple of feet. “Jesus, Dustin!” he shouted, touching his lip and staring dumbfounded when his fingers came away wet with blood. “What the fuck, man?”

“Hit me back.”

“What? No! Dustin, what’s—”

“HIT ME BACK, STEVE! You have to!” Dustin’s voice cracked, the sudden violent burst of emotion threatening to unleash something big and scary and unforgivable. A tidal wave that had a name.

Steve grappled wildly with the boy, trying to grab his flailing arms so he could pin him, but Dustin was surprisingly swift in his current state, and he launched another punch, this one landing heavy in Steve’s gut and socking the breath right out of him.

“HIT ME, STEVE! I KNOW YOU WANT TO, JUST DO IT!”

Fueled by a burst of frustration and a sharper burst of fear (what is this?), Steve recovered enough to trap Dustin’s arms against his body, using his own weight to twist the boy around until he was trapped with his back against Steve, the hold immobilizing him so all he could do was squirm and shout out his fury. “LET ME GO FUCK YOU STEVE WHY WON’T YOU JUST FIGHT BACK YOU ASSHOLE?!”

“Dustin, stop. Stop it. Breathe, Dustin. Take a breath. No, hey, stop. You’re not going anywhere until you calm down for me. Breathe. Shhh, buddy. Breathe,” Steve’s hold was unbudging, his tone stern but soothing. Dustin’s violent struggles gradually slowed, and it took a couple of minutes for Steve to realize that the boy was shaking with silent sobs. And then the sobs became words, almost indecipherable in the wrecked, wretched voice that was rough and strained from screaming.

Every sentence Steve parsed from the stream of horrible self-accusations added another crack to his heart, which couldn’t have been more than a mess of spiderwebbing at this point.

It’s my fault.

He’s dead because of me.

I couldn’t save him.

You loved him, I know you did.

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Finally, finally, the words stopped and Dustin sagged, exhausted, in Steve’s arms. Only then did Steve ease up on his hold, but only long enough to turn the boy around and hug him properly. He bent down to bury his face in the unruly curls, his own tears falling unchecked and inconsequential.

“Dustin,” he whispered into the mop of hair. “Oh, Dustin, never.”

And when he realized he didn’t have the right words, he just stopped. He just picked Dustin up and carried him to his car, buckled him into the passenger seat, and told him he would be right back. He had a party to break up, some kids to chase away, and a boy—his boy—to mend.

“You loved him, I know you did.”

With a soul-cleansing breath that sounded more like a sob, Steve made his way back up to the Hendersons’ house.

[fallenhunnyapple]

After getting a bunch of questions from @ilikelookingatthings, its time to compile some more info about this AU! So here we are~ I might be rehashing some things said before for clarity and expanding on ideas

(the words are from Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage because it makes me insane and suits this AU a lot)

So let's break this down into separate parts.

Adam's Sexuality:

Adam is a closeted Gay man. This is something he's always been, but his pride and the enforcement of the Angels kept him from ever really pursuing anything while he was In Heaven. Lucifer was his first love and that memory is so deeply embedded into his heart that even without his memories, he still Feels the affection and attraction.

He doesn't have memories of the formative experiences that made him struggle in Eden and Heaven, but the internalize homophobia isn't going anywhere, and being the priest of a small town, he's faced with Homophobia often enough that he'll never feel safe being Out. Feeling attraction towards male constituents instead of the female ones made his sexuality very clear to him, even though he knew that if he were to feel any attraction it /should/ be towards women.

So meeting Lucifer and being faced with his ancient love, feeling unjudged by the one he's attracted to (Lucifer mentioned offhandedly early on that he's bisexual), of course he's still conflicted because this is Literally Temptation by the Devil himself, but he finds himself unable to repress everything when Lucifer is being so open and making him feel its Okay. Sure, its still to the Devil's own ends, but that doesn't make it any less supportive.

Adam's Ultimate Fate:

Adam is ending up in Hell. Whatever else happens while he's alive, there is no escaping that fact. Being in a sexual relationship with the Devil Himself is more than enough for eternal damnation. If it had been with a human, things may have been different, or they may not. He's Meant to stay celibate for this test, which incidentally goes against the very purpose of his creation, still etched into his soul despite not having the memories. And that in itself makes him more susceptible to being offered What he wants with Who he wants.

Lucifer makes it very clear to him at some point in the future that he wants him in Hell. Not as a way to spite Heaven, but because he wants _Him_, _Adam_ in Hell with him. And for the Years they have together, because Adam isn't being rushed to his grave or anything, he's allowed to live his full life, Lucifer will gladly push Adam further and further into Sin to ensure he'll come home to him in the end. Thwarting Heaven's plan is only secondary now.

Adam's Connection with the Divine:

The point of this test is to prove that Adam can be a Good Enough Person to make it to Heaven. The Angels are completely Hands Off. They're not meant to make him More than a Mere Human and interfering or speaking to him would potentially prophetize him and that defeats the Purpose. And once Lucifer gets involved, fighting over Adam's soul would make too much of a mess of things. They just have to hope that Adam makes correct choices and that ultimately, he does enough good to outweigh the bad and still ascends when the time comes.

Lucifer of course wouldn't be so keen on the idea. He probably knows that Heaven is Watching, but he would still do what he can to hide things from them. Adam is His now, he's decided, and he won't let them take him away.

Adam's Faith:

When Adam was dropped into the human world without his memories, he was more or less deposited outside a church so a priest took him in. He was late teens at that point, so he wasn't exactly Raised, but he was very influenced when the Church helped him when he was at his lowest and most vulnerable point. And he inherently had Faith because despite not having memories, he can still Feel it in his Soul that Heaven and the tales of the Bible are Real. So entering the Faith only made sense. Also as sort of a way to repay the Church for taking care of him when he needed it most.

He didn't really bother pursuing other interests or possibilities because he's fairly limited while living out of a Church, so it just makes sense to stick with what he was given instead of having to build up from Nothing.

Adam and Lucifer:

Lucifer goes into this whole thing with the plan to make Adam Sin enough to be condemned and disrupt Heaven's plans. It shifted from random impersonal sins to wanting to make Adam Sin with Him specifically when he noticed the now-human man Clearly had some feelings for him.

The thing is, Adam is at Such a base state, he's not all too different from how he was in Eden. Not exactly, of course, there are a lot of different factors. But there's still a sort of childish playfulness and naivete that is Endearing. Lucifer was Fond of Adam then and he finds himself becoming Fond of him now. Sure he's not going to jump into and real deep feelings or anything immediately, but its not /impossible/.

Lucifer doesn't hide the fact that he's The Devil for Long. Adam figures out very quickly that he's a demon and Lucifer never disputes that, letting him believe it for a time. But he doesn't lie about his name and he doesn't lie about his status. When Adam asks the right questions, he learns who exactly he's dealing with. Which would explain why he was able to walk on hallowed ground and why he could spray him with holy water from a super soaker and the most it did was tingle and sizzle a little bit.

Maybe there is some sort of Merit to Adam 'distracting the devil' as it were, but in reality, Lucifer wasn't actually... Doing anything or tempting anybody. Other demons use his name, but he personally doesn't want to deal with More Sinners in Hell, he already doesn't want to deal with the amount that's there, why would he try to tempt more? Adam is a special case because its at first to piss off Heaven and then because he genuinely just wants Adam to be by his side when he dies.

Adam will one day have his feelings reciprocated because Lucifer is a sap like that. And Lucifer will give Adam some of the first genuine affection he's ever had in his life, which only makes him fall harder. But they have plenty of time to figure themselves out.

Lucifer:

It started as a way to get back at Heaven, truly. But it didn't take long for his goals to change. Less about condemning this Holy Man and more about Keeping Adam by his side. He does spend a lot of time on Earth because of this. Which is very new to him. He hadn't really been to Earth before this, but the scope of hos exploration is very small, so he mostly just sticks to following Adam around and being a nuisance.

He doesn't spend _all_ his time on Earth, he's still in Hell. But he was rather isolated there, barely taking care of his own duties as King as it was, so his absence isn't really noticed all too much except for the people who Know what he's up to. Which basically amounts to Asmodeus and his publicist (an OC I have that's more or less a constant in every universe who has to deal with Lucifer's public image good and bad).

Charlie and Lilith are not really on his radar. Sure he misses them both, but neither of them are actively in his life at that point, so his energy and mind are focused on Adam instead.

Adam's loneliness:

While his loneliness is certainly pronounced in the way he doesn't really have friends or true connections at the Church he lives and works at, it something much deeper than that. Adam has Always been isolated. Heaven was very isolating for him in ways he wouldn't know or think to express.

Adam was the first Human Soul in Heaven, but he wasn't Quite a Winner either. He was something More. He's in a position between the two that meanst he inherently felt Othered by both. That, plus his behavior and attitude made it incredibly difficult to make any real connections on Heaven. The closest was with his Exorcists, who respected and cared for him still as a superior so it never really went beyond that. Even Lute was still subordinate to him, even though he treated her most as his equal. But ultimately he was very lonely.

So that loneliness pervades into his Human life. He doesn't know how to connect with people, not really. And again, being in a position of authority over others makes him feel isolated again. He's the only priest at his church, so he doesn't have someone of his same rank to connect with either. And he's never had parents or siblings or any of those built-in relationships that teach you how to connect to people. He's a grown man who has always had to start from scratch.

And that makes it all the easier to fall into it when Lucifer offers him companionship. Not even sexual but just... Someone willing to talk with him and be silly and hang out.

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

03. cocky ♡

“Maybe you should take your hood down and sunglasses off.” After fifteen minutes and a pit stop in the first coffee shop you could find, Atsumu was yet to make his appearance any less suspicious.

“Why?”

“Because you’re drawing more attention to us and they probably think you’re kidnapping me.”

Atsumu looks around himself and curses under his breath, pulling his hood down but keeping his sunglasses and mask on. “Fine.”

“Lose the sunglasses too, you look like a dick.”

“Oi, watch it or I’ll kick ya out,” Atsumu laughs. He moves the sunglasses to sit on his head. “Here, take the lift up.” He takes the second suitcase from you, rolling both of them by his sides. “How was the flight?”

“It was okay. Some lady’s baby started screaming halfway through and then she picked a fight with a flight attendant for not having anything to heat up milk.”

“What?”

You laugh along with him and shrug. "Funniest thing, they did have something to heat it up for her. She just started screaming out of nowhere! Then the baby threw up on her and the snacks she got, which shut her up really quick."

Atsumu laughs, holding open the elevator door for the two women waiting behind you both. He presses the button and you start moving up. "Just so ya know, none of yer furniture has arrived yet. Yer more than welcome to take my bed and I'll take the couch until it does get here."

"Oh, I sold all my furniture. Those boxes on my story was all things I donated to different charity shops, Ushiwaka delivered them for me before taking me to the airport."

Atsumu nods along slowly to your words. "What's yer plan?"

"Oh, I have money from all the things I managed to sell, along with the deposit I'd placed on the flat, so it's enough for basics. After I drop my suitcases off, I'll go for a walk and try to find some shops and you can go back to work."

"Don't be silly." Atsumu takes both your suitcases before you have a chance to stop him, leading you out of the elevator and towards the parking lot. "I can take ya. I took the whole afternoon off to help ya settle in. Plus, I can show ya all the hidden spots. We can grab a bite to eat."

"Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience-"

"Yer not inconveniencing anyone, Y/N," Atsumu assures you, stopping behind a sleek, black sports car and lifting the trunk of it. He lifts the two suitcases, barely managing to get them both to fit. "I'm starved. We can try yer world famous onigiri tomorrow after ya get some rest."

You reach to open the car door, flinching back as the door raises upwards. "Jesus, you really make the most of your money here. Tobio's was just some old car. What's the point of it going up rather than outwards?" You slide in beside him, grabbing at the door and pulling it down.

He settles into his seat and lets out a soft chuckle. "Uh, it looks cool? Plus, ya can't hit any other cars with them." He pulls out of the spot and starts driving seemingly fast.

"You might catch some low-flying planes."

Atsumu shakes his head. "Oi, watch what ya say about my baby here. Be gentle."

"Are you being gentle with her, you took that corner at sixty." You have one hand rest on the door, staring at Atsumu with doubt in your eye. "Miya, are you trying to kill me? Was that the plan all along?"

Smiling and shaking his head, he glances over at you and slows the car down. "Ah, sorry. I forget to slow down with others in the car. I’m not usually the chauffeur.”

Nodding your head, you admire the streets you pass much more intently now that you’re going at a more reasonable speed. “So you drew the short straw this time around?” you tease, Atsumu not catching your smile.

“Nah, I didn’t. I offered.”

“Wow, you offered. I’m flattered.”

He chuckles. “Ah, well, mostly because the others need their practice more than me. I’m better than them.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really cocky?”

His grin grows wider as he slows and pulls into a parking lot, carefully reversing into a private spot. “Everyone, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

Oh I got a good one!

Remember AU prompt 5? Well Imagine all the other fallen take an interest in the reader and they all begin fighting over them?

Request Prompt #33 - ✦💓

You couldn't be in any more of a pickle now. Apparently, you've figured out since we last left off from, that this is a seal dimension. A dimension specifically created by the witches in order to contain some very specific beings. And to be honest? You were currently considering just crumbling on the spot from anxiety. Because out of all the cookies you've seen here( aka, like, five you think?) you're the only one that's normal sized! How fun. ( Disclaimer: it is not fun, you are fucking terrified. ) You can already hear two of them fighting, well, so far it's only verbal so at least you aren't in too much danger. All you have to do is stay hidden... stay hidden... stay hidden. You open your eyes, the forest around you has changed again. You also could no longer see the other two cookie's arguing, you're pretty sure that their names had been Burning Spice and Mystic Flour? You weren't sure. But you did know that they were arguing about you. Or more specifically, how you got here. You sneak out from your former hiding place, the forest had definitely changed your location. It just... did that sometimes, that's why it was so easy for you to get lost. Whenever you hid from something in the shadows there was a good chance that the forest around you was going to change again. " Oh I'm terribly sorry for the wait, little star." You heard a voice echo through the forest. You froze up- what the heck forest? Weren't these strange teleports supposed to get you out of danger? I mean, that's what they did before, right? You were immediately seize with a gasp by a large hand made out of shadows, it slithered up speedily into the tree where it deposited you into the equally large hand of a certain individual. You cast your gaze up into the gigantic eyes of Shadow Milk Cookie, which stared at you with interest and amusement. In hindsight, maybe you should have stopped hiding in the shadows. " Aw, what's the matter little star?" He cooed, poking at your cheek. " Are you not happy to see me? That's very disheartening, you know?" He spoke in that kind of tone that you'd use with a baby or a small animal, you know the one. " I don't think I'd be particularly happy to see any of you." You retorted, earning a cackle from the gigantic jester. You knew more about the beasts than you did when you arrived here after all, and you knew that Shadow Milk was basically embodied deceit so you barely trusted a word he said. And yet, he seemed to have a genuine interest in your safety... If not only for his own personal goals. At least, that was your reasoning as you figured that if he was the one triggering the teleports, then he'd at least be looking out for you, right? You heard him sigh. " You know, you seem to love making things more complicated for yourself, hm? Now all the others know about your existence within the seal, and that's making things more rough for you, riiight?" He drew out that 'i' sound just to tease you, but you knew there was at least some truth to what he'd said. You nodded in reply, flinching at the sharp grin he gave you. " Welll~ It turns out I have just the solution for that! If you stick with me, then you'll be safe! No more of that 'running away' business." He offered, but you knew there'd be a catch. " But! In return... You have to help me get free and back out into the world, 'kay?" You hesitated, you'd doom the world as you knew it if you let him out, right? Did the world out there even exist as you knew it now? You have no clue as to how much time has passed since you zapped yourself in here. Shadow Milk was looking at you expectantly, and you didn't want to find out what would happen to you if you rejected his offer. " O... okay, I will."

[salty-autistic-writer]

Snippet in which Tommy has a cat.

Tommy opens the door for Buck and clears his throat. “Well. That’s it. My modest home.”

“It’s nice. I really like the plants,” Buck says, walking inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “And you have a couch.” He sits on it, sinking in a little bit because it’s soft. Really soft. Hm. “So comfy. I really should buy a couch, right?”

“I can really recommend a couch, yeah. We could buy one together,” Tommy says, a corner of his mouth ticking up.

“I’d like that,” Buck decides, already imagining how much fun it would be to go to Ikea together. However, he gets distracted as he sees something he wasn’t expecting. A black cat is hiding behind one of Tommy’s plants, glancing at Buck with wide-open golden eyes.

“No way, you have a cat!” Buck gasps. “I love cats. Actually, I love all kinds of animals. Even sharks. Did you know sharks don’t have bones? But they can still fossilize because they deposit calcium salts in their skeletal cartilage to strengthen it, and -” He stops with a little embarrassed chuckle. “Oops, I’m rambling, right?”

Tommy smiles. “I love hearing you ramble. And apparently, so does Luna.”

“Oh.” Buck sees that the cat is now sitting right in front of the couch. Moved so quietly, he didn’t even notice her approach. “Hey,” he says quietly, leaning forward and reaching out a hand. “Look at you. You’re so cute.”

Luna studies him a moment longer, then sniffs at Buck’s hand and rubs her head against it. “There you go,” Buck says, grinning. He gives Luna a good head rub and she starts to purr.

Tommy raises a curious brow. “She never does that. I mean, not that I brought a lot of people here, but when I did, she always stayed away, hiding somewhere. She really likes you.”

“Yeah,” Buck laughs when Luna jumps up onto the couch and continues to rub all over him. “Everyone loves me.”

“True,” Tommy says, walking over to Buck and kissing his head. “But only I get to keep you, right?”

“Right,” Buck agrees and pulls Tommy on the couch because of course, he has to test how nice it feels, to make out with his boyfriend on it. Luna studies them for a curious moment, then meows and stalks away, obviously not interested in seeing more smooches.

Find it on AO3

[sanazyung]

royjamie the bachelor au walk with me… roy who is on the show bc his mates submitted him as a laugh and jamie who is Headlining as the first Bisexual Bachelor. jamie only has eyes for roy since day one meanwhile roy wants to die every time the camera is trained on him. every other contestant hates roy. jamie sends home anyone who tries to tell him that roy is a prick. roy is trying desperately not to fall in love with jamie so that no one on (inter)national television sees him be vulnerable. there’s a date in amsterdam. a date where they play football. a date where they go bowling an all the other contestants try to get jamie to “teach them how to bowl with his arms around them” while jamie only cares about fucking beating roy. its jazz. its motown. its the vibrator on the bedside table. its the fucking royjamie reality tv bachelor fanfic you never knew you needed…

THIS is the fic i am working on now. sneak peak below the cut🙈

***

Jamie suppressed a laugh as Roy frowned at the word mate. He used the little crease between Roy’s eyebrows as a distraction for the way his stomach twisted itself in knots at the thought of anyone else knowing what he had just told Roy. Maybe that meant that he had made his choice. Maybe he had always known.

Well. One step at a time.

Jamie reached over the table to grab the rose where it had been carefully paid by the production team. He twirled it around in his fingers trying to find the right words to say. All of them felt too insignificant for what had just transpired between them.

“You–” Jamie coughed awkwardly, and started again. “Thank you for listening to me tonight. I’m glad I told you. And I would be honored to meet your sister and niece, yeah? If you’ll have me. I want that. I’m serious about you, and I want to get to know everyone who is important to you. Because you’re important to me.”

You mean the world to me, was stuck in his throat. I’m falling in love with you. I think I might be there already, and that terrifies me.

“Jamie,” Roy said. Nothing more, but Jamie supposed he had known him long enough now to know exactly what he meant, even in that one word. It was Roy saying yes, saying you too to whatever Jamie had left unsaid between them. Jamie’s hands were shaking as he lifted the rose between them.

“Please take it,” Jamie whispered. “I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t.”

Roy grunted, and it meant of course I will you fucking prick. Jamie beamed, and leaned over to pin the rose to Roy’s lapel. It looked fucking mint on him—it always did.

“Kiss me,” Jamie breathed, his hand still lingering on Roy’s chest. “Roy—”

Roy didn’t hesitate. He pulled Jamie up in one fluid motion, depositing him down onto Roy’s lap while Jamie let out a breathless squeak. It quickly divulged into a moan Jamie probably should be worried about being heard on camera, but Roy was kissing him too thoroughly for him to care about anything other than Roy’s beard scratching against his skin. His hand came up to cup Jamie’s face, thumb brushing tenderly across his cheeks where Jamie was fairly certain there were still tears. The action made him pull away, emotion in his chest threatening to make it burst.

“Roy,” the word was punched out of him, like he didn’t have a choice, like all that mattered in the world was that one syllable. Like there weren’t four other contestants still waiting for him back at the resort, like there was nothing between them but–

“Alright, you two,” Keeley’s voice cut him off, as she stepped out from behind the camera. “We have more than enough footage for this date, and it really is getting late. Roy needs to head back to the hotel and you, Jamie, have a decision to make before tomorrow.”

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Bound by Blood- Part 2

Part 1

Hero thrashed in their abductor’s iron-grip as they took them far away from the crime scene.

“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to indulge myself now,” Supervillain’s voice drawled.

Hero glared up from their spot in Supervillain’s arms. They blew a puff of frost into their face, hoping to disorient them. Supervillain only chuckled.

“My darling, do you really think your feeble cold will faze me?”

Without warning, Supervillain bit down into Hero’s neck; Hero cried out in pain. Supervillain drank a generous amount of blood from their system. Hero’s vision slid in and out of focus, and their limbs quickly fell limp.

“Sleep now,” Supervillain’s voice rumbled distantly, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Despite their efforts to do otherwise, Hero was quickly lulled to sleep.

…

When Hero woke up, they felt the warm embrace of silk sheets and a plush comforter. They opened their eyes to a grand bedroom. They sat up, rubbing their eyes. They immediately started scanning the room for any escape routes. There was a large window on one wall, with the curtains drawn shut. Hero clambered out of bed and scrambled over to it. The window had been tinted to let in the least amount of sunlight, and worse, there were bars over it.

“Enjoying the scenery?”

Hero nearly jumped out of their skin, whipping around to face Supervillain.

“Are you frightened?” Supervillain asked with a smirk and a tilt of their head.

“No,” Hero lied.

Supervillain laughed, a chilling sound that sent an unnatural shiver down Hero’s spine.

“Little Hero,” they said, stalking forward, “I can hear your heart rate- it’s beating faster than I can run. You’re shaking- and I know that your cryogenic makeup prevents you from getting hypothermic.”

Supervillain now stood inches from Hero’s face. They tilted their chin up to meet their gaze.

“But most of all- your eyes. They give away your fear,” they said, “such pretty eyes, especially so when they’re glazed over from blood loss.”

“Y-you’ve made your point, I’m scared,” Hero admitted, “what do you want?”

Supervillain ran a hand through Hero’s hair.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” they hummed, “first I have to get you ready.”

“Ready?”

“For your appearance of course,” Supervillain said, “what good is an ultimatum without the leverage?”

In a blink of an eye, Supervillain had swept Hero up and had deposited them in a different room- a cell, to be exact.

“I do hate to put you in such deplorable conditions, but we have to make this believable.”

Supervillain quickly manhandled Hero into a chair and wrapped them tightly in thick, coarse ropes. They shoved a gag into their mouth and turned on a camera.

“Try to look frightened, my dear, your performance is important,” Supervillain said, “now, how do I work this thing-”

Supervillain fought with the camera for a little bit until it snapped a picture of Hero. Hero blinked against the flash.

“Ugh, human technology, our helper and our reckoning,” Supervillain said, looking at the picture.

Supervillain quickly untied Hero and removed their gag.

“You were wonderful, Hero,” Supervillain said, patting them on the head, “maybe not Oscar-worthy, but a bumbling fool like Detective should be convinced.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Hero asked, standing up.

“Oh, the typical things: ensure immunity, receive control of the city, maybe demand a nice bottle of wine for us to share, though I don’t touch the stuff personally… yes, I think all that would be quite nice.”

“The city isn’t going to hand over control just because you kidnapped me!” Hero said incredulously.

“Maybe,” Supervillain agreed, “but it would be a shame if Detective had your blood on their hands because they refused to comply.”

Hero froze in place. Supervillain laughed.

“Oh, my darling,” they said, “I’m not actually going to kill you, I would never even dream of such a thing, but the city doesn’t need to know that. And now with you out of the way, I can easily remove anyone who opposes me. When a city has had a hero to protect them for so long, they forget how to protect themselves, and I’m very much counting on that.”

Part 3

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[linksthoughtbrambles]

The Seeds of Love, Well Worn

A gift for @newtsnaturethings for Midna's Merry Mixup! I'm sorry this is so late!!! I am officially saying Newt is also a coauthor of this fic because it is based on a very old, very silly conversation we had that was so much fun! This fic was also inspired by "The Calamity of Link's Cargo Shorts" by @zeldaseyebrows! It is excellent and should be read!! A big thank-you to @bellecream for beta-reading! This fic is also available to read here on ao3. Post-TotK Zelink, Canon-Compliant, Rated T, ~9,400 words

At first, Zelda thought nothing of it.  After all, Link was entitled to some eccentricities.  He couldn’t be the legendary hero if he were ordinary, could he?

Certainly, his renewed desire to play hide-and-seek with the koroks struck her as odd.

And yes, his sudden willingness to spend time away from her also seemed odd, especially as he’d clung to her so fervently since her fall from the sky—why insist on leaving her behind now?

Perhaps he wished to give her uninterrupted time to pursue her studies.  She’d shooed him from her well and atrium often enough, though always with a smile.  And yes, she’d been busy with concerns in all corners of Hyrule, leaving her less time to attend to her new garden, and she’d been frustrated with her efforts to populate the lovely pond Link had built into their plateau—had she been short with him?  Had she seemed distant?  Perhaps she’d hurt his feelings.

“I apologize sincerely, Link,” she blurted that night over dinner.

He blinked at her, all blue-eyed owl.  “Huh?”

Apparently not.

His spectacular grin an hour later as he tossed her on their new bed confirmed it.

Definitely not.

--

Her concern grew as Link traveled further and further afield.

“Link- must you find them all?” she asked.  “Surely that’s unnecessary.”

“I need more Korok seeds,” he said.

Her eyes flew wide.  “S- eeds?”

“Yeah!”

“Ah.  And… how many of these have you collected?”

Link shrugged and jammed his hand in his korok pouch.  It emerged overflowing with tiny, golden nuggets.  A few fell to the floor as the distinctive scent invaded Zelda’s nostrils.

“Link-“

He deposited them on the table-

“Link-”

-and reached back in, his fist again brimming with the deceptive little pellets.  Zelda’s nose wrinkled as she waved her open palms in the direction of his belt.

“Link, this is our dining table!”

“So?”

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to count them?”

“Well- not here.”

Link blinked at her.  “Why not?”

She stared at her erstwhile knight, helpless to shut her jaw.

He didn’t know, did he?

She supposed it had never come up.

To be fair, they did look somewhat like seeds.

“How many fistfuls of these would you estimate you have in there?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, fistfuls?  Maybe…” he scratched the back of his head with a squint toward the ceiling.  “Maybe about twenty?”

Zelda blanched.  “And… that’s not enough.”

He snorted.  “Noooooo.”

His obsession struck her all the more strangely.

--

Link would stop at nothing.  In short… he would create a mountain out of a molehill, right there on their dining room table, a tribute fit only for a king.

Or so Link seemed to believe.

She began to wonder if he was unwell.

The Rasitakiwak Shrine activated up the hill just before sunset.  Link bounded into her garden at an unreasonable pace.

“Hahaaa!” he kissed her cheek with an intentionally long, wet smack and a shoulder-squeeze.

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle.  “Link!”  She then wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.  “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he said.  “I got sixteen today.”

Zelda’s smile became quizzical as she wondered if he’d washed his hands.

--

“I’ll be on Hebra peak all day!” Link announced with a sideways smile and two fists proud on his hips.

Zelda tried to appear as though she were not at all worried, and that she was, in fact, happy for him to be so excited about visiting an incredibly dangerous high-altitude frozen wasteland on a whim.  “The peak, specifically?” she asked, voice bright, though the slight curl of her lip may have given her away.

“My korok sense is tingling,” he said.

Zelda’s cheek twitched.  “I wasn’t aware you had one.”

Link pulled a leaf-shaped mask from his pouch and donned it with a ya-ha-ha.  It explained nothing.

She clasped her hands before her with a deep breath.  “Will you allow me to accompany you this time?”

“Nope!”

She sighed.  “Why ever not?”

“You have things to do!  I know you want to-“ he began to count on his fingers- “jam a Zonai charge in that guardian-claw-contraption with Robbie, zip to Lookout Landing and see if Purah’s gotten any Zonai abilities working with the purah pads, weed and water your garden, do your measuring and extracting stuff there, see if any of those frogs you caught are still anywhere near our pond, go to Hateno and check how our critters are doing there, check in with Symin about the school… I mean- you have a lot going on.”

Zelda shook her head.  “You’re not wrong, Link, but perhaps you might stay with me today?  Can the koroks wait until tomorrow?”

He hesitated.  He removed the mask to scratch his nose.  “Well- I mean, will they still be there?  Yeah! They’re shockingly dedicated to their game, which… is weird considering Hestu stopped playing with them seven years ago.”  Link squinted, his eyes defocusing a bit.  Zelda kept her laugh silent—a mere flurry of quivers of her diaphragm.

“Huh,” Link finally said, shaking his head, his eyes forcibly wide.  “That is really weird, isn’t it?  But… I kind of have to hurry.  Even if the koroks are… insane.  Or messing with me.”

That struck Zelda as disturbingly likely.

Link nodded, apparently resolute despite his targets’ nebulous motivations.  “I should go today.”

She couldn’t help her falling face.

���Aw,” he said.  He stuffed the mask back in his pouch, took her in his arms, and curled himself around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.  “You miss me?”

“Yes,” she said, a little sheepish.

He held her tighter.

Then he bear-hugged her.

“Heh- Link!” she smiled, pushing at him playfully.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said.  “Really.  Please trust me?  I promise there’s a good reason.”

“Can you tell me?” she asked.

He loosened his hold and kissed her forehead with the softness of a cloud.  “If I could, I would.”

She studied his eyes a long moment.

He certainly appeared to be his usual self.  His eyes sparkled with mischief, with his ever-present love for her, and with that shadow she’d seen in him ever since she’d fallen into the depths, whisked into another time.

The shadow- it worried her, kept her worrying beyond what would otherwise be reasonable.  He’d never been the same.

She could even feel it in the cadence of his breath—shortened without apparent cause, always a twinge on the end of each, a restlessness in his fingers as he held her.  They just kept moving, even when his hands were still.

Why this would drive him to scour the countryside for korok droppings, she didn’t know.

She ought to enlighten him about that at some point.

--

It ended on an unremarkable day in late spring, as suddenly as it began.

Zelda had no explanation.

Link said nothing of it.

His korok-seed fever simply ceased.

She wondered if someone else had revealed their nature to him.

He spent two entire days never leaving her side.  The most accurate word she could think of to describe his mood was ‘barnacle.’

Zelda-barnacle.  Yes, that was it, she thought as she clipped a sample off one of her more mature sundelions, his chin on her shoulder, his nose in her hair, his eyes on her work, and both his arms wrapped securely about her middle.  Even his legs were flush to hers a good measure of the way down.

That night, the sound of the shrine’s transport platform reached her in her sleep.  She opened her eyes to find Link gone, his place in bed beside her cold.  She heard him enter the house soon afterward.

He returned to bed and wrapped his arms around her as though he’d never gone.

“Where were you?” she asked quietly.

He kissed the crown of her head.  “Kakariko.”

“Why?”

He chuckled.  “Can’t tell you.”

--

He made several more clandestine journeys, each time unsuccessful in the sense Zelda knew he’d gone.  He always returned to bed, and she always asked where he’d been.

“Kakariko.”

“Kakariko.”

“Hateno.”

“Hateno.”

“The korok forest.”

That one made her sit up.  “Oh?!”

He laughed.

She squinted down at him, his bare stomach shaking with mirth.

She squinted hard.  “So many koroks…” she said.

“Hm.  True,” he answered, mock-seriously.

“…Are you collecting seeds again?”

“Nah.”

She eyed him suspiciously.

Then she tackled his abdomen, tickling hard with all ten fingers.

It hadn’t been wise, truly.  He overpowered and tickled her easily, his utter lack of mercy keeping her breathless for the following five minutes.

She learned nothing more from him that night—and he made no more secret journeys after that, as far as she could tell.

--

The summer solstice arrived.

Zelda opened her eyes to the sight of Link’s lovestruck gaze, the dimple deep in his left cheek.  He pushed her hair behind her ear.  “Happy Birthday,” he said softly.

His first gift to her arrived immediately, with no need even to leave their bed.

The second waited, a centerpiece on the dining table: a large box tied with a wide, royal blue bow, every bit as obvious as Link’s excitement for her to open it.  He’d adopted barnacle-stance once again, using his legs to walk hers toward the table.

She laughed, shifting off-balance as the odd gait forcibly waddled her.  He stopped them directly in front of the box, though he didn’t let go.

“I take it you’d like me to open this before breakfast.”

“Yes please,” he said, his laugh higher than normal, burying his eyes in the nape of her neck.  “I’ve been keeping it secret soooooooo long.”

She chuckled, her arms and hands covering his, warm, around her waist.  “My poor knight,” she said, a habit from days long gone.

He hummed a breath into her, nuzzling her nape and ending with as much of his face as he could tuck into her hair as possible.

She patted his arms and tilted forward.  He slid his hands to her waist and leaned around her, watching.

The ribbon fell open easily.  She lifted the top off the box and folded back the protective paper to see- “Pants?”

“Take them out!” Link urged.

She lifted them by the waistband.  Her head cocked in confusion as they unfolded.

“Shorts!” she said, amazed at the array of large pockets all over them.  They were otherwise simple, black, as though to replace her riding pants.  Their shorter length would be welcome in summer, and she absolutely could do with pockets.  The pouch at her hip wasn’t enough, though Link, of course, would allow her to put anything she wished in his.

“Look inside,” Link whispered, bouncing a little on his toes.

Zelda gave him an amused look.  She then held the waistband open and peered downward.  As predicted, she saw black fabric.  She also saw her own feet on the floor through the leg holes.

“No, no no no no,” Link said.  “Look in the pockets.”

“Ah,” she said.  Thinking he’d secreted something within one for her, she slipped one strap from its loop, lifted the flap, and rummaged inside.

“Goodness,” she said.  “This pocket is quite deep.”

Link produced a snigger.

She eyed him suspiciously once more as she slid her arm further and further into the pocket… still contacting nothing.   She withdrew, confused.

“I-“ she lifted the garment above her head.  Then she examined the pocket’s outer seam.  She pressed her hands on either side of it.  It appeared to be utterly ordinary – larger than her hand, certainly, but…

She shook her head and inserted her hand once more.  She watched, fascinated, as more and more of her arm disappeared into it, until the pocket’s edge reached her shoulder.   She wrapped her other arm around it to feel where her arm had gone inside the cloth.

The answer, it turned out, was nowhere.  The fabric pressed flat to her torso.

She gasped, a slow smile spreading across her face as she turned to see one of the biggest grins Link had ever given her.

“It’s like your pouch!” she cried.

“YA HA HA!” Link yelled as she tackled him. “Oof-“

“Oh my goodness- oh- Link- Link think of what I could do with this!”

“I did,” he chuckled.

“Are all the pockets this way?”

He nodded; then he looked up and to the left for a moment, a half-squint on.  “Well- yeah they’re all enchanted, but it’s not quiiiite the same.”

“Oh?”

“I had- requests for these pockets.  Special ones.”

“Such as?”

“Well…” He opened a larger pocket lower down.  “Check this out!”

She did.

And she gasped.

She was peering into a space, perhaps the size of the main room of their new house, with a lush, grassy floor, a medium-sized dogwood tree, and a pond.

With lily pads.

She stared.

She stared more.

She goggled at Link, dully noting his arms supporting her, his eyes positively twinkling.

“is this…. for… frogs?” she asked, her tongue extremely dry.

“Well,” he said waggling his head.  “It doesn’t have to be. But I thought-“

She kissed him.

--

Link examined his work as a myriad of frogs hopped, croaked, and plain-old-chilled out around him, quite proud of himself.   The ruby rod was definitely staying put—and unlike one of the old flame blades (damn, he missed those), it wasn’t going to cook every frog that touched it. “I think I got it!” he yelled.

The sound of cloth-on-cloth preceded Zelda’s face appearing in what seemed to be a slit on a dark wall about even with Link’s head.

“Oh!” Zelda said.  “You’ve embedded it!”

“I figured it’d work best if it was actually in the water,” he said, trying but failing to see any steam visibly rising from the little pond’s surface.

“Indeed!”

Link wondered if there’d be clouds—like rain—or if droplets would just condense on that nebulous, sky-blue ceiling above.  Verrrrrry slowly.

“I’m still concerned about the lack of sunlight,” Zelda said.

Link smiled, pulling his eyes from the unsky to make his way toward her.  He stuck his face right up to the opening.  “It’s magic, Zelda.  Don’t worry too much.  It was like this in the sword-trials.”

“It’s unclear whether those were physically real, Link.”

 “True, but there were loads of plants inside the Zonai shrines.”

“Hmm.  There still are,” she said.  “I suppose that suggests whatever the light source is, it’s sufficient for them.”

“Yup.  So don’t worry.”  He pointed up.  “I bet it’s sky blue up there for a reason.”

She huffed a laugh.  “I suppose I agree with you, for my instinct is not to take that bet.”

Link raised his chin, proud of himself for the third time that day.  “Nice!  So… is it testing time?”

“If you’re ready, Link, then certainly.  I shall be gentle, but I suspect the fact the pond has remained intact means this will be entirely uneventful.”

The sound of shuffling cloth accompanied the strange sight of her hands, the wall, a painting, and then the ceiling moving beyond the opening followed by a wild motion of the wood, glimpses of Zelda’s armpit, her hair, her nose, and a single green eye as she pulled the garment on.  He heard her fasten it.

“Link?” she called.

“Nothing happened down here!”

“Excellent.”  She peered down at him.  “Link?  You are officially in my pocket.”

He snorted.  “I’m in your pants.”

“As is typical for you,” she said with a mischievous glint.

--

Being in Zelda’s pants (literally) turned out to be less interesting than Link thought it would.

She’d warped to Hateno rather than hike or paraglide down to Tarrey Town.

“What if the shorts fall off?”

“Do your pants usually fall off when you paraglide?”

“Of course not, but if they do, you are in them, and you shall hit the water, and if it comes pouring in, what will happen to you?”

Link shrugged.  “I’ll swim out.”

“Perhaps, but what if the entry fails to expand?”

“Why would it?!”

“No- we must be scientific about this.  Nothing risky is to be done without proof of concept.” Her spine straightened suddenly as though shocked.  “Goodness.  What if I fall?  Same potential result—possibly worse, for we do not know how taking on water affects the weight of the pants-“

Link started laughing.  “Zelda, they have a tree and a pond and- DIRT and things.  They don’t weigh anything.”

“Yet what if they do, Link?!  Perhaps a fraction of their weight is transferred.  We don’t know.  We cannot test it without removing the material, and frankly I have no wish to ruin that lovely environment in order to haul a tree out.  No, the only way would be to add material and weigh the shorts afterward.”

“Ze-“

“Of course, I would do that with the similar pocket on the left rather than disturb the pond...”

He’d been about to suggest he just… paraglide down with her and hop in the pocket in town.  They could be discrete about it—ask to use the bathroom at the Hudson Construction office or something—but he liked to hear Zelda talk, and she’d clearly started one of her long thinking-out-loud rolls.  So, he’d listened while making mental note of the locations of niiiice, big, heavy boulders he could shove in the bottom left pocket.

And now, here he was, chilling with the frogs, listening to Zelda’s footsteps and chatter with the townsfolk, making yet more mental notes of any jostling (which was… really easy since there’d been none so far), and trying to think of how else he could kick the frog habitat up a level.  Luckily, he could hear Zelda even with the flap closed, so he had some entertainment other than the sticky frog that had decided his back was comfortable.

His head shot up.

Neither of them had thought to test whether he could leave with the flap shut.  That, to him, seemed a much bigger deal than anything else.  What if she was hurt and he couldn’t get out to help her?  What if something attacked her?  Zelda could defend herself, sure, but he couldn’t be stuck in here, helpless, if someone or something meant her harm.  Bokoblins.  Moblins!  One of the remaining gleeoks he hadn’t yet purged from the depths.   He can’t possibly have found them all, and those things could fly like anything, come out of nowhere.  He’d never seen one leave a chasm but there was absolutely no reason he could see why it couldn’t, and chasms—dear Hylia, they probably hadn’t found them all and what if she was walking somewhere and she didn’t see it and she slipped and she was falling and falling and falling and he couldn’t catch her again-

“Link?” Zelda called.

Link’s pulse rushed fully tactile in the left side of his neck, audible especially in that ear.  Sweat had begun to seep into his clothing.

“Yeah!” he yelled.

“Any motion?”

He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck.  He’d stopped paying attention—but he hadn’t noticed anything.  “I don’t think so!”

He could practically hear her mind whir on that one.

“Alright!” she said.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself.  He’d done it again.  He really, really, really needed to stop doing that.  Hadn’t that been part of the point of this gift to her?  Yeah, she loved the pockets, but also he’d had to get used to letting her be alone.  He must’ve been driving her crazy.  He’d barely been able to let her garden for five minutes without checking on her.

Better that she missed him than got unbearably sick of him hovering around her all the time.  It’d happened before, all those… very many long years ago.  It could happen again.

He scrubbed his face.

He had to think about something else.

He eyed a particularly quick hot-footed frog.

His nose wrinkled.  He wished he didn’t know what its secretions tasted like.  He wouldn’t enjoy being stuck in here with nothing but those things to eat.  He didn’t expect sticky frogs to be any better, or ordinary tree frogs for that matter.

Not that he planned on eating them.  But if it was him or the frogs-

The frog on his back made a soft ‘ribbit.’

Link craned his neck.  He could see the moist, blue tippy tip of his stowaway’s nose.

…Eh. Okay, the frog was cute.  He could eat other things first.

Grass!  There was grass. And flowers.

Could you eat dogwood trees? 

He’d have to dig himself a latrine.

…

It would be really gross.

Not as bad as Zelda being hurt.  By a lot.

But still… disgusting.

And she’d never let that happen to him unless she was hurt, so it was a moot point.

… Or unless the shorts fell in the lake.

He smacked his forehead.  He should know by now that Zelda was always right.  Because if lake water started pouring in here and he couldn’t get out because the flap was closed?

He was effed with a capital f.

Much better that he was in here than her.  He wouldn’t make it five minutes if their roles were reversed.  He’d be hauling her out of here forcibly.  Once they knew how it worked, sure.

Hestu hadn’t seemed to know much about it, either.  Magic, inventory-expanding dances?  He had those in the bag.  The mechanics of the bag?  Nope.

“No, thank you, Manny.”

Link’s eyes shot to the closed flap.

“It’s a spectacular collection of crickets, to be sure.”

“Turns out Lasli didn’t want them, either.”

Link groaned.

“Eh he.  Yes, I heard you telling Link last time.”

He was still on this?

“She didn’t like the frogs, either.  But you do, right, Princess?”

Link would not tell Manny Lasli loved fireflies.  Because she actually did, and he wouldn’t inflict Manny on anyone for real.

“I know you like them.”

…Link didn’t appreciate that tone in Manny’s voice.  Not that he knew what it was, exactly.

He just didn’t like it.

He didn’t like Zelda’s silence either.

He stood and padded barefoot over the grass to try and peek out the flap.

“W- eh- ll.  I- suppose I- do like frogs-“

“I have a hundred for you, Princess.  Do you want them?”

Link really didn’t like that tone of voice.

“U- ahem.  Do you mean the frogs?”

NOT ONE BIT.

Link shoved at the flap, too high-alert to be happy it didn’t resist him.  He grabbed the edge with both hands and stuck his head out.

He found himself looking at Zelda’s midriff.

“AaaaaAAAAAAHHHH!” Manny screamed, and he wasn’t the only one.

Several things happened in quick succession.

People and cuccos scattered (Link could hear them), something hit the ground hard and rattled, and several doors slammed open against their stops.

“ARE THOSE DAMN SKELETONS BACK?!”

“It’s daytime, dad!”

“Heavens, Princess, what are you wearing?!”

“MY LAUNDRY!”

“Princess!!! There’s an animal in your pocket!!”

Zelda’s arms shot out above Link’s head.  “Oh!  No, it’s—" a number of crickets landed on her midsection.  “Oh, my,” she said, hers the calmest voice in earshot as Link tried to figure out how to turn his head the right way.

“MANNY WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!”

“BLEHHHHGHGHGHHHH BUGS!”  (A door slammed shut).

Someone was shrieking high on the letter ‘E’ as Link, with a great deal of confusion, managed to twist around and see the street.

It didn’t help.

Manny was trying to scoop crickets out of the air and fling them back in the wood-and-mesh cage he’d kept them in, its latch flopping around.  The appearance of Link’s eyeballs knocked him back onto his hindquarters with a strange cry, almost as hard as if Link had punched him physically.  The cage landed lopsided—which was probably what happened a few seconds ago, too—and crickets streamed outward.

Ivee seemed every bit as terrified of Link’s disembodied head as she’d been of the potential pocket-critter and then some.  One of her knees rose and crossed her body as she squealed, dropping her broom.

Her father managed to make a wide-eyed scowl at Link.  “What in Hylia’s green hills?!  Link?!”

Manny panted, gulped, and leaned forward.  “L- Link, man.  It is you.”  He then looked from Link to the pocket below him, and up to Zelda’s face, an idea clearly forming.

“You-“ Link said, waggling a finger at him- “and me- we’re having a talk.  Soon.  Got it?”

For some reason Manny grinned wide.  “Got it,” he said with a wink.

Link was confused, but he’d take it for now.  “Good!” He twisted up to see Zelda.  “Hi,” he said.  A cricket landed on his forehead.

Zelda shook with laughter.  “Hello, Link.  Any jostling?”

“Not a thing!”

“Excellent.  Well.  Shall we continue?” she asked, shooing his cricket away.

“Depends,” Link said.  “Do you actually want those frogs?”

Zelda shook her head.  “It is far too many frogs.  Manny?”

“Y- yes, Princess?”

“You ought to return those hot-footed frogs to the wild where you found them, though keeping a few would be alright.  I have enough in here already.”

“E-enough?” Manny stuttered as Link leaned out to see just how many frogs there were and where the heck he was keeping them.

The sticky frog on Link’s back made its bid for freedom.

It launched through the air with a loud croak and landed on Ivee’s hip.

She shrieked, flapping her shirt wildly in attempt to fling it off.  Link moved reflexively to yank himself out and recover the frog. Instead, Zelda toppled as Link simply appeared, connected to her leg.  They landed in a heap, Zelda on top, with her face in Link’s hair and Link’s legs still dangling in the other-dimensional space.

“I got heavy again, didn’t I?” Link said to the dirt.

Zelda nodded in his hair.

“I’ll get you a new frog,” Link offered.

“No need,” she said, having turned her head to rest it on Link, watching Ivee quiver in fear as the blue terror slowly scaled her torso.  “It’s not going anywhere.”

Link rotated his face to look Manny in the eye.  “Seriously.  You’re still trying this?  What do you do, wait by the village entrance and offer critters to everyone who passes you?”

Manny leaned forward conspiratorially.  “Only the hot babes,” he whispered.

Link groaned and put his face back into the dirt.

It was better.

--

“Here you are, Link,” Zelda said, passing him yet another apple.

Not that he wouldn’t take it, but wow, she wanted him to eat today, didn’t she?

“Thanks, Zel!” He grabbed it and made extremely short work of it.  He tried to shove the core in his own pouch again, wrinkling his nose when it just hit bottom and got his hand sticky.  “Aw.  I keep forgetting.”

Her hand reappeared in the opening as she chuckled.  “It must feel strange to suddenly have an ordinary pouch.”

“You bet.  Don’t know how I managed before.”

“Well, fret not.  You shall have access to your many thousands of odds and ends once you emerge.”

Good thing, too.  He’d’ve had some kind of breakdown if bringing his pouch inside THIS pouch had broken his pouch forever.

He had over a dozen omelets in there, to say nothing of a now exceedingly rare undecayed eightfold blade.

It struck him real suddenly why she was feeding him so much.  He couldn’t just reach in and pull out a snack like he usually could.

He found himself very warm and fuzzy.  He turned his eyes on Zelda, still peering curiously at him.  “Thanks, Zelda.  You’re… really thoughtful.  You know that?”

She blinked at him slowly.  “You’re… welcome, Link.”

--

Link now understood his disembodied appearance in Zelda’s pocket was both an asset and a curse.

Sticking his head out among adults, unexpected?  Chaos.

Sticking his head out in the Hateno schoolyard?  Also chaos.  But the screams were fun-kid-play screams, not screams of abject, world-view-upending terror.

The schoolbell rang.

“Awwww,” Azu said.  “We just got started!”

They had, in fact, just started chucking insects, sticks, and chunks of bark into the pocket and watching, fascinated, as they fell sideways upon entering the magical space.

Zelda gave an indulgent chuckle.  “I’m sure the frogs will be appreciative of your efforts, and It’s not as though we won’t be back.  Go to class!”

The children grumbled a little as they traipsed inside.  So did Link’s stomach.

“You know, they fed the frogs, but did I get anything?  Nope.”

“Hmm.  I imagine that’s because they’d eaten their lunches already.”

“Aww.  I wouldn’t take the kids’ lunch.”

Zelda hummed a laugh, her forehead wrinkling slightly. “Are you hungry already?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Truly?  It’s not as though we didn’t have our own lunch… and quite a few snacks for you.”

Link shrugged.  “Hungry anyway.”  She was still… looking at him, but not in the ‘oh look it’s Link, he’s so attractive and I’d like to be back at home in bed right now’ way or the ‘look at Link, he’s so silly, he makes me laugh, he might do something else funny if I keep watching’ way.

He could usually de-code if he studied her hard enough—but right now he had to look partway up her nostrils to do it.  “You… have your thoughtful-face on,” he said.

“I’m always thinking,” she said with a smile.

A suspicious smile.  “Yeaaaaaah, but sometimes you’re thinking harder.”

She cocked her head, still watching him.

He cocked his, too, with half a grimace on.

Maybe it was the ‘he might do something funny’ face.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

Link spun around, spotting a stick Karin had tossed inside.  He snatched it up, looked Zelda right in the eye, and took a nice, hearty chomp.

Her head reared.

“Mmm,” Link said.  “Sassafras!”

It tasted like skunky-root-beer-meets-a-whole-box-worth-of-matchheads, but the look on Zelda’s face was worth it.

She only laughed a little, though.

He’d have to up his game.

Either that, or he’d just have to be attractive later.

He chuckled to himself.  Why not both?

In the meantime, he had a bunch of items to arrange.  Now that Zelda had this pocket, and now that it had frogs in it, and the kids had not only seen it but put stuff in it, they were absolutely going to want to visit the frogs and see all their stuff in use in the frog habitat.

Link sighed, looking at the feeble collection of dead tree matter near the opening.

As if on cue, Zelda reached in, a long, curled section of papery bark in her hand.  “Would… you like this, Link?”

“Sure—thanks!” he said.  He grabbed it and snatched up the rest, intent on turning the kids’ offerings into a tiny frog village in the corner.

--

“Link,” Zelda said, her voice carefully nonchalant.  “Here’s some oak wood.”

Link arrived at the flap and took it from her.  “Oh great, yeah, thanks!”  He gave her a huge, excited grin and an eyebrow flash.  Then he raised it to his wide-open mouth and stuck it right in.

Zelda swallowed, wide-eyed.

He disappeared to the left again with some small shuffling sounds.

She then heard a crack, and a happy sound from Link.

Zelda began to think frantically.

--

“H- here you are, Link,” Zelda said.

Link turned from his task to see her hand dangling a scrap of leather into the opening.

He bounded over to her, reaching for the offering.  Zelda seemed a bit less happy than he’d have liked, her lips pressed together and held there by her teeth.  He looked her over.  Then he looked the leather over.  Not terrible leather.  Not great.  Nothing special.  Big enough to be a blanket for a frog.  He snorted.

He’d stuck a few different kinds of wood in his mouth since the stick made her laugh at least a little, but when she got serious he did, too, going about his construction efforts.  A bunch more bark, several sticks, chunks of wood, and a sheet of slate later, here she was handing him leather.

What was he supposed to do with it?

She was watching him so closely!

…Maybe she got serious because he got boring?  His mouth pulled in deep on the left.  He studied Zelda’s downturned face.  Maybe he hadn’t gone big enough.  “Look.  Do you want to see me eat this?  Because I can totally eat the whole thing.”  He could, too.  He’d eaten way worse.

Her eyes flicked elsewhere, then back to him with a little shimmy of her head.

It was cute.

He smiled.

“No, Link,” she said.

He blew a puff of air out.  He’d hoped so.  “Just checking.”

She looked so expectant.

What was he missing?

“…Thanks, Zel!  Be back in a minute.”  He jogged past the tree and out of Zelda’s direct line of vision.

What to do with the leather?  Zelda didn’t just do things for no reason.  Maybe he should just ask her.  But she wasn’t saying anything, so she must think he already knew, so it must be something for the habitat and he must be being dense, and-

Oh.

OH.

He was… really thick sometimes.  He smiled to himself.

Of course.  He’d even thought it was about big enough to cover a whole frog!  It could be a little frog blanket.  Or a mat.  Or frog armor for a teeny tiny little frog army.

Link’s entire form lit up.

No, no.  Zelda was studying the frogs, not playing with them.  The kids would play with them.

…It would be so cute.

He sighed.  He would resist.  Little mats?  For the cute little frog houses he’d already made with the sticks and stuff?  Sure.  He could make frog-tents, too.  It was always light in the habitat.  They probably needed someplace dark they could go hide in sometimes.  Yes!

Link got to work, realizing pretty quickly he didn’t have all the tools he needed.  He wandered back to the flap.

“Hey, Zelda?”

“Yes, Link!”

“I need some thread and some long, thin lengths of leather.  And more rectangles of leather.  Maybe…” he thought for a moment.  “Thirty-six pieces.”

She stared at him.  “Thirty-six?”

“Yep.  Just to be safe.”

--

I am extremely concerned that Hylian mental status is negatively affected by enclosure within my cargo shorts’ lower-right pocket, Zelda wrote in her research journal.

As Link expressed his hunger despite his frankly gargantuan intake of food, I recalled that items retrieved from Link’s pouch emerge exactly as they went in.  Food does not spoil.  Vegetation does not wither.  Animals do not perish.  And indeed, nothing has occurred to harm the frogs we’ve placed in the habitat for study.  Yet one would think if time stood still, they would not hop (etc.).  Clearly, whatever magic occurs is complex.

I would be merely curious rather than concerned had Link not proceeded to eat sassafras wood (notably unhealthy).  Indeed, for each piece of wood I passed to him after that, he thanked me profusely.  He then appeared to develop an insatiable craving for soft leather!  Is he unable to appease his hunger if he enters in a hungry state?  And was Link willing to eat these items because he was truly that hungry, or has the space had an effect on his thinking?

I oughtn’t allow him to go back in.  It took a good deal of convincing to get him to come out.  He insisted he ‘wasn’t finished.’  I had to lower a rope in and ask him to climb it to test the effect of our gravity vs. that of the gravity within the pocket as he climbed.  I was quite relieved when he agreed.

--

“Morning, Zel!” Link chimed from the kitchen—Zelda had made her way partially down the steps to the alluring aroma of honeyed flapjacks.

“Good morning, Link,” she said, her smile a little more tired than it should have been considering her large amount of sleep.  She breathed deep.  “That smells delic…ious.”

Zelda stared at the low table along the far wall.  “Link?”

“Yep?”

“What are those?”

Link followed her gaze.  “Oh!  Yeah, the leather was a really good idea.  I’ll bring those ones in with me today.”

She blinked, shaking her head.  “You… what?”

“Into the pocket today,” Link said, flipping one of the pancakes.  A few dark spots revealed wildberries embedded in it.  “I’ll bring them in with me.”

“Link- I… was thinking perhaps you shouldn’t go in there today.”

“Huh?  Why not?”

“Well, for one thing we’ve other concerns.  We are overdue for our visit to Rito Village.  I know Tulin has been anxious to discuss his Zonai stone, and we shouldn’t put that off for any of our modern-day sages.  There ought to be- some manner of succession, or-“

“Zel,” Link said, a quizzical look on his face as he slid the honey and blackberry flatcake onto a plate.  “This… is nothing new, and none of them are…” he shrugged, waving his pan and his spatula- “old, or… sick, or anything.  It can totally wait.”

“It’s not as though the pockets can’t wait.”

“Zel, you literally just started testing them out yesterday.”  He squinted at her.  “You were worried about just keeping frogs in there without understanding how the fake environment would affect them.  Right?”  He waited.

“Well… yes.”

“And they just plain old don’t like our little L-shaped pond thing.  Right?”

“…They do not seem to particularly enjoy it, no.”

“Because they leave.”

“Yes.”

“So you can’t just take the little guys out and put them in our pond.”

“Not if I expect to see them again.”

“And you like frogs.”

“They are fascinating,” she said.  “Not that other creatures aren’t – they certainly are – but, at least in our time, their effects on speed, strength, and stamina were poorly understood, though of course we can make some elixirs from them, and now with these sticky frogs having sprung from the caverns opened in the upheaval, there is so much more to learn.  It’s not even just the frogs, it’s-“

She stopped at the huge, dimpled smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“You,” he said.  He replaced the pan on the wood stove and dolloped some batter in it—then he circled the table and wrapped her up in his arms.  “I love how curious you are,” he said.

“Even after all that time,” he said, far more quietly.

She’d snuggled into him, but his tone had her pulling back, examining his face; his smile had vanished.  She traced his lips with an unthinking fingertip.  “Link…”

He tried and failed to smile under her touch.

She stroked the subtle hollow of his cheek.  It disturbed her a little that he even had a hollow of his cheek, with all the food he took in.  He never used to.  He’d had rounded cheeks, always.

“Sorry,” he said.  “It hits me sometimes… how long you waited.  For me.  Because I-“  he swallowed.  “Because I missed.”

She shook her head and crushed him to her, pressed his face to her shoulder.  “No, Link.  No.  Truly.  It wasn’t like that.  It was as though…. a long dream.”

He nodded against her.  She’d told him before—many times—yet it continued to haunt him, evidenced by moments like this.  Sometimes she thought he didn’t believe her.

Sometimes she suspected hethought about it far more than he let on—wondered if the occasions on which he acted strangely were fueled, somehow, by that fall of hers into blackness and its consequences.

Not for Hyrule.  He’d saved that.

But she’d spent eons and eons so very far not only from him, but from her own consciousness—and self-recrimination kept surfacing within him for it.

Zelda thought of his months-long korok obsession.  Of his need to have hundreds upon hundreds of ‘seeds,’ and that need utterly overriding his usual (over)protectiveness of her, even to the point of him going when she specifically requested he stay.

There had been no pocket to affect his thinking, then.  Perhaps an oddity of the flow of time had nothing to do with his behavior.

She worried at her lip and thought of the scraps of leather lined up on the table partway behind her.  “…Link?” she asked.

“Yeah, Zel?”

His voice sounded thick.

She stroked his hair and took a deep breath.  “What is the leather for?”

His eyelashes fluttered against her skin.  He lifted his head to look at her.  “Frog tents.”

“…Frog tents?”

“And mats and blankets, and I was thinking of making cute little sets of leather frog armor, but I figured that was just me being a little bored and not actually something that would spruce up the habitat, though the kids would sure enjoy it.  Maybe we should get them to make some.”

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief.  “You-“ she shut her mouth.  Should she say something?

“Zelda?”

She smiled, her thoughts turning.  “Link- you… you worried me yesterday.  Considerably.”

He looked nonplussed.  “I did?  How?”

She gave him a look, then patted his shoulders—he released her.  She walked over to her hung shorts.  She reached into one of the storage pockets and removed a birch branch.

She returned to Link and held it out to him expectantly.

He just stared at her.  He flicked his eyes to the branch once.  Then he stared some more.  “Uh.”

“What… would you do with this if I gave it to you?” she asked.

Link scratched the back of his head.  “I mean… usually I’d whack a bokoblin with it- ONLY if it was red, mind you.  But now with the pond, I could give it to the frogs like all the other stuff.”

She blinked at him. “You could… what?”

“Yeah, I can arrange it around the pond- well… it’s really in the corner, I didn’t want to put it right next to the water.   It looks pretty neat already but it’s not even close to finished yet.  It’ll be like a little frog village.  Little log seats and tents, and an itty bitty frog campfire for them to sit at, and little mats for them to sleep on, and…” he trailed off at the look on her face.  “What?”

“You haven’t been eating these?”

He stared at her.

Then he burst out laughing.  “What?!”

She spread her arms wide.  “You have been- taking bites of wood, and bark, and even rocks—though granted this is not the first time I’ve seen you eat rock-“

“Salt’s a rock.”

“That is beside the point, Link, the darling, obtuse love of my life.”  She gripped his shirt with two fists and put some of her weight on them.  It made him lean over with a bit of a droll smile on his face.  “You were displaying- extraordinarily odd behavior once more.  Please, please, explain your actions if not to sate your seemingly inexhaustible hunger while inside the pocket?”

“You thought I was eating wood because I was too hungry?”

“Of course!”

He huffed a laugh.  “Why wouldn’t I just ask you for actual food?”

“I wondered the same thing!”

“You could’ve asked me why.”

She blinked, drawn up short.

His thumbs drew gentle shapes on her biceps.  His eyes wandered all over her features.  One eyelid twitched just slightly more shut.  “Why didn’t you ask?” His voice had softened so much.

Her mouth opened and shut, her fingertips on his face again.  She made a study of his features with them, moving from place to place.

Link’s nostrils flared a second before she noticed the burning smell.

“Sh-!” he leapt almost comically over the table (comically except that he was Link, so the leap itself was graceful and perfectly executed to place him directly in front of the stove).  “Ahhh, this happens so much…” He flipped the offending flapjack with a flick of his wrist.  The underside was, indeed, rather burnt, but she knew he’d finish cooking it anyway.

He didn’t turn around.

His shoulder blades shifted as he jiggled the pan.

Zelda circled the table, arriving at his side, his nearer hand still on the pan’s handle.  “Link?”

His face turned toward her, and while he showed no outward sign of tears, she knew that face on him.  They weren’t far off.

She caressed his bicep, his hairline where his head and neck met.  “What is it?”

He half-laughed, shutting his eyes and leaning into the hand at his neck, just for a moment.  “You tell me.  You… didn’t answer my question.”

Her cheek came to a slow rest at his shoulder, her eyes on his, at a loss to explain.  She didn’t know where to start.

Her silence seemed to hurt him, almost bodily.  He winced.  He moved the pan onto a thick potholder.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut.  He took a few deep breaths before returning his eyes to hers.

“Well, you wanted to know what I was doing, so… I was just trying to make you laugh.  At first, I mean.”  His smile was very, very weak.  “The joke didn’t land, huh?”

Her eyes had widened a little.  “I.. thought-“

“It’s okay,” he said.  A small smirk touched his face.  “I’m funnier when I’m not trying.”

A small laugh puffed out her nose.

“Oh ho!  Yeah, see?  I thought so.”

“I am sorry, Link.  I thought it was hunger because you were simply insatiable all morning.”

He flashed his eyebrows twice.

She giggled. “That is not what I meant.”

He smiled anyway.

“You devoured breakfast, lunch, and every other piece of food I passed to you while you were in there!”

He shook a little in a laugh, though his face remained far less than jovial.  “How is this unusual?”

“Do you realize how much food it was?”

“OH yeah.”

“And you were still hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.  I can literally always eat.”

“You say that, but your stomach must be of limited size.”

Link shrugged.

“I’d begun to wonder if I the space you were in was affecting you.”

“Well, again… I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask me.”

The shadow she’d been seeing in him became all the more obvious.

“Link… you always say you’re alright.”

He shrugged.  “I always am.”

“No, you are not,” she blurted, surprising even herself.  “Link… I see it in you.”  She pressed her hands to his face, cradling him.  “You’ve not been- you’ve never been the same since I came back,” she said, almost whispering.  “I see it there, in your eyes- and more than that.  It’s a change in your entire body, your full self.  Yet you always insist you’re alright.  I do not ask because-“ she just realized it herself- “you would not tell me truthfully.”

She could see him floundering, but her mouth would not stop.  “You have been acting strangely.  For months, you were collecting korok- seeds- with such fervor, willing to leave me for long stretches of time, which had up to that point been quite unusual for you—and you refused to tell me what that was about, too. And then-“ she snapped her fingers- “nothing.  No more.”  She softened at the odd twitching which appeared in his left cheek—she’d no wish to come across as harsh—she simply could not contain it any longer.  “Your night excursions worried me at first, too, and then especially when you mentioned the forest.”

“But,” he cut in, “you know what it was about now, right?”

“Yes, obviously now I know,” she said.

He shook his head, then cocked it strangely at her.  More quizzical than she’d ever seen him be—there was another word for it.  She couldn’t quite place it, perhaps because she’d never seen it on his face.

“So… why are you… still worried?” he asked.

She ducked, seeking his eyes from below.  “How can you not know?”

He splayed his hands wide, face up, shaking his head.  “I- don’t!”

“Link.  You spent months feverishly collecting pellets of korok dung!”

He blinked.  A lot.

Then he looked somewhere straight above Zelda’s head.

“Oh,” she sighed, her face in her hands.  “I- I am sorry, Link, it was obvious you didn’t know, and that in and of itself wasn’t my concern.  Why- why collect them in the first place?  Even if they were seeds in the literal sense?”

Link groaned.  Then he grabbed her biceps and rested his forehead on hers with a flabbergasted smile.  “Wow.  Wow.  Okay, so, yeah, I didn’t know they were turds.  Holy Hylia, I could kill Hestu.”

“Who is Hestu?”

Link shook his head.  “Tell you later.  No, you know what?  I’ll introduce you later.  We can shake the maraca tree together.”

Zelda opened her mouth, but Link shushed her with his fingerpad on her lips.  “I get it.  Why you thought I was nuts.  Because that’s what this is about, right?  You thought I was losing it, so you didn’t want to ask me, because of course if I was really insane I wouldn’t know anyway, so the answer doesn’t matter.  Does that about sum it up?”

Her eyes welled with tears.

“Hey- hey- no, no no no, please.  Don’t cry.” He kissed both her eyelids with a loving smile.  “Yeah, I’d’ve thought you were losing it if you were collecting feces without it being some kind of study.”

She burst into a tearful giggle.  “But not if it were a study.”

“No, pff!  Of course not.  You’ve studied nastier things.  But that’s kind of my point.  Like- I really thought I had given the game totally away when I told you I didn’t have enough seeds.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“Did I never tell you this??  Hestu- who you will meet- is the guy who does the magic to expand the pockets.  And you have to pay him in korok seeds to do it.”

“What?!”

“Yeah!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“That’s absurd!”

“He’s a trickster.  Now I know!”

“What would he possibly want them for?”

“His maracas.”

“His what?!”

“His maracas!  He sticks them inside and shakes them around and does this ridiculous dance and BOOM—expanded pockets!  He can even make spaces within the spaces which is how I can keep all my swords separate, and my bows, and… and…”

He must have seen the look on her face.

“So…” she said, “if anyone is mad, it is this Hestu.”

Link snorted.  “I sure hope so.  Because if not, then it’s still me who’s lost his hold on reality.”

Zelda smiled at him.  “I would love you anyway.”

He took his time folding her into his arms.  “I know.”

“I… am still surprised you were willing to leave me for such long stretches of time.  I was becoming lonely.  At least, now, I know the entire ordeal was with the aim of creating a truly spectacular pair of shorts.”

He shook with silent laughter against her.  “Yeah.  Though… I was also trying to leave you alone.”

Her arms pressed him extra-tightly for a beat of her pulse.  “Why?”

Two puffs of air exited him quick, fluttering the hair near her temple.  “Because it’s been so hard to.”

The shadow in his eyes had risen to the surface, bared for her.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, soft, her lips near his, her eyes treating each of his to touch after touch of her sincerity.

Link cupped her face and kissed her, his lips a bare brush, a gift of pure emotion, nothing taken.  “It was.  Shhh- I know.  I know what you’d say, but it was my fault.  I dropped.  And it wasn’t because I couldn’t stand.  It was because-“ a disgusted laugh left him- “it hurt.”

“Link,” she said, aghast.  “The gloom killed your arm while still upon your body!  It took even your shoulder.  You were in agony-“

“But I could have stayed standing.”  The loathing in his unfocused stare found her shrinking, though she knew it directed toward himself.  “It would’ve saved me about half a second.  When you fell.  And I’d have caught you.  As it was, I felt the air from your fingers as I missed.”

She couldn’t stop shaking her head, touching his face, his hair.  “Please.  Please, my love, do not do this to yourself.  Do you not see…?“ She straightened.  “You do.  You do see.  For if you didn’t, you would never be willing to leave me alone for a single instant of the rest of my life, ever.  Yet you already have.  You’ve intentionally forced yourself to do so.  And why?”

His eyes shut under her hands’ ministrations.  “Because I don’t want to drive you nuts.”

She nodded, her forehead against his so he could feel it despite his shuttered eyelids.  “Which means you recognize constant, incessant vigilance is unreasonable.  And if it is unreasonable under normal circumstances, it is certainly unreasonable in the case of an agonizing injury—one single moment in relation to it, and that is all.”  She kissed his cheek.  “It is not. Your.  Fault.”

A tear met the bow of her lip.

“Oh, Link,” she said, kissing it away.

“It feels like it is,” he said on nearly no air, his diaphragm having already crushed the rest from him.

She took him against her shoulder as he shook.  Saltwater jumped in fits and starts between the peach fuzz at the nape of her neck.  She stroked his hair.  “I know,” she said.  “I know it does.  We will work on this together, Link.  Alright?  When you feel this way, please speak to me.”

He nodded against her, the movement slowed by a nuzzle.

“And also… I do not at all mind you being my barnacle.”

A laugh burst from his mouth, cooling the freshly laid tracks of moisture on her.

“Please,” she chuckled.  “Do so as much as you wish.  In fact, do so even more, for I enjoy the unique sensation of my strides riding entirely upon yours.”

“You got it,” he said, his hand running warm over her back, as though he were the one comforting her.

She returned the gesture.

When Link recovered enough for his stomach to rumble, she insisted he sit.  She served him the one flapjack he’d successfully cooked.  She made the rest, and she did quite a good job of it, too (though in fairness, Link had already prepared the batter—by far the trickier part of the task).

They ate on the same side of the table, always touching. While Link had been right—she did want to study the pond-pocket carefully, and sooner rather than later—the day's priorities had changed. She decided to forego her investigation in favor of bed, where Link enthusiastically joined her.

--

Late at night, Link burst to wakefulness, shooting upright with a cry.

“Whhhhfauuha?” Zelda said, bleary.

“They’re all in on it!” Link said in horror.  “Every last one of them.  Every single korok.”  The look he turned on Zelda might’ve been lucid.

Or he might’ve been sitting up in his sleep.

She just laid the flat of her forearm on his chest and pushed him down, snuggling back up to sleep.  He didn’t resist.

--

“Hi, Hestu,” Link said, his smile completely relaxed.

“Link!  It’s good to see you.  Did you bring any more seeds for me?”

Link’s smile widened.  “Actually, today I brought the Princess to see you.”

“The PRINCESS?! Shakala!!!” Hestu waved his maracas in a ponderous mockery of semaphore.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Hestu,” Zelda said.  “Now please, in no uncertain terms, explain precisely why you manipulated Link into delivering thousands upon thousands of korok droppings to you in exchange for your inventory expansion services.”

The maracas went utterly still.

Zelda’s smile remained pleasant.

“Mmmm?” rumbled the Deku Tree’s voice.  “What has my grandson been doing?”

Hestu remained balanced on a single, awkward, stubby leg, maracas-out, his only movement a slight shivering of the leaves in his branches.  Then something hit the ground with a deep thump.

“I- I’ll be right back!” Hestu said, his wood-moustache shivering as he scampered with all the grace of a land-manatee down the path toward Mido Swamp.

Link stepped forward, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes groundward.  He nodded with a sniff.

“What is it?” Zelda asked.

Link tilted his head.  “Well.  You know that saying about shitting bricks?”

Zelda peered curiously past him.  “Oh.  My.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.”  She clasped her hands.  “Perhaps we should collect it.”

Link took an extremely long moment to turn and look at her.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Link burst into relieved laughter.

“I couldn’t resist,” Zelda said.

[mugiwara-lucy]

I've been talking to my fellow women lately and I figured seeing this Tweet pop up on my feed, I feel compelled to address it:

This guy is a routine dicksucker for Trump on Twitter but look at what he's saying; he's basically saying wives of Conservative men MUST vote for Trump ESPECIALLY since they know that Trump and his pet dog; Vance, have pissed OFF women and they want to make sure they're voting for "the right person". Disgusting and given this guy is a Conservative Christian, it wouldn't surprise me if he's abusive (either physically or emotionally) to his own wife.

On one hand it would be easy to make fun of MAGA wives and call them dumb Karens BUT I'll have more empathy than that. And if you wives of MAGA Conversative Christian men see this post I just want to say, please do NOT let these assholes make ANY kind of decisions for you. If you want to vote for Kamala, you have the anonymity of the polling booth to make your decision and IF your husband or anyone else tries hovering over your shoulder to coerce you into voting for Trump if you don't want to; here's a list of numbers you can call depending on the state you're in since YOU have the right to dictate who YOU want to vote for. And keep in mind YOUR polling booth is YOUR personal space and also, you can always LIE to your husband. Especially given their orange god is a habitual liar anyways 😂:

And if you don't to deal with Trump and his nonsense; here's the link to register to vote as well as the voter registration deadlines by state! Time is running out so if you're not registered to vote; WE HAVE NO MORE TIME TO PLAY AROUND!!

And Early Voting has started and I'm happy to say there have been 70 % of Democrats who have been voting compared to MAGAs and if you don't wanna vote November 5th for obligations that day, please take advantage of the Early Voting opportunity and do early voting! Here's when Early Voting starts depending by your state! And for the women married to conservative men, if you wanna early vote for Kamala, just lie and say you need to go to the store and get XYZ.

And for Mail In Ballots which have MAGAs lagging behind Democrats which we should continue in! Here's the link to register for your Mail in Ballots BUT again like I've been stressing if you choose this option, make sure to deposit your ballots at the USPS Mailing Stations to avoid MAGA Mail Fuckery!! And for the women married to conversative men, if you choose this option, like with Early Voting just lie and say you have to meet a friend or get XYZ at the store.

My fellow women.....I'll end with this.....Trump and Vance LITERALLY WANT to have MENSTRUAL SERVAILLANCE:

Do you want your daughters, potential granddaughters or yourselves having your MENSTRUAL CYCLES tracked like cattle on the line??

I'll leave you with that thought.

Especially since one of Trump's dicksuckers have talked about RIDDING WOMEN OF THE RIGHT TO VOTE:

Would you like to continue voting? Because this could legitimately be our LAST ELECTION where we have that right.

[bathic]

13. Never warm, never implicitly inviting.

Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter Warning: Sexual Content, MxM, Physical Violence, Angst, Unhealthy Relationships, Toxicity, Minor Fluff.

The corridor ended in an opening to a large, circular room with planked walls of dark wood that shuddered and shook as if racked by passing chills. You eyed the boards closely, catching the smallest slivers of the same fleshy pink that the tunnel Yunho and Wooyoung had guided you through.

“Sit.”

San stood at the end of a table, the plate and bowl and mug deposited on the surface. His tone left no room for arguments, and yet you still managed to find one.

“Do you seriously think I would sit and eat after everything you’ve all done to me?” You scoff, staying rooted at the entrance to what you gathered in a quick once over to be a dining hall. Three tables sat in the center of the room, arranged in a peculiar manner with a single corner of each touching. The one your food sat on had a singular bench facing outward. Actually, all three of them did. If filled by bodies, two of the tables sitting opposite of each other would allow the ability for its occupants to be in full view of one another. The third table almost had a sense of higher ground. Nothing paralleled its position, instead it was the head that looked on at either of its flanks.

“Sit.”

“No. It could be poisoned, something I wouldn’t put past any of you of doing.”

You watched the way San’s nostrils flared, gloved hands tightening at his sides. And then he raised the closest one to the table, grasping the bronze handle of a spoon submerged in whatever was in the bowl. He refused to look away as he raised it, the juice sloshing a bit over the sides, towards his mouth that parted to quietly slurp it back. You shifted on your feet, an uncomfortable feeling biting at the back of your ankles. San lowered the eating utensil to briefly scoop up a small portion of the rice on the center of the plate and followed the same path as the soup to his mouth. Then, did he look away.

“Eat.”

“Why?” The question came out weaker than you wished but the need to still fight burned like a hot coal in your chest. It wasn’t like you were safe, nothing and nobody here could be trusted.

San sighs, “Because our food supply runs thin. Wasting what little we have means bringing us one step closer to starvation. And now that an extra ration is to be added to the preexisting eight, that’ll make the stock deplete quicker.”

Perhaps a bit of compassion could be spared in that moment, unfortunately it wouldn’t be coming from you.

“Why the hell should I care if any of you starve to death?” Did he seriously think you would actually feel sympathetic to their dwindling resources when they not only abducted you but proceeded to threaten your life left and right? You gazed at him like he was the most pathetic creature you have ever had the displeasure of looking upon.

The harsh words that spilled past your lips caused an ugly furrow to tug at his brows. He settled his sight on you once again and it was nothing but a reflection of contempt. What an awful thing to say to someone who could easily shatter your jaw with just a single punch. Was that what you wanted? For him to completely pulverize your face until nothing was discernible, to create a gaping crater of broken teeth, shattered bones and fleshy mush. He could, his hands were already itching to rearrange that scowl you were giving him.

You startle when his hand suddenly slams down onto the table’s top, rattling the dish ware from the force.

“You either sit and eat or I will escort you back to the captains' quarters. And don’t think I won’t let him know about your refusal to cooperate. One thing you will learn very quickly is how he absolutely loathes insolence.”

“I would rather stand here and rot into the floorboards than to sit at the table belonging to a bunch of psychotic freaks and eat the slop provided out of self-righteous pity.”

It was venom pitted against acid; potent poison laced in every word. San moved like a leaf in the wind, wings fluttered open and enlarged enough to drown out the warm lighting of the dining hall. Even in the shadow that he cast, you could make out the raw odium in his one eye. An untapped hatred. Oh, he was far beyond the point of anger.

The first step he took felt like the whisper of a blade against the skin on your throat. Just a light pressing, but a threat all the same. It promised for more. The next step, hollow yet loud, had you backing away. The corridor at your back was far more inviting in its shrouded darkness than the man slowly stalking towards you. Perhaps it was the lighting or the way his wings puffed out like the feathers of a peeved off chicken, but you could have sworn he almost seemed to grow in size.

“Stay away from me—“

You shuffle further back when his snails-pace progress is doubled, nearly toes to toes with one another. Something collides with your back, or you manage to run right into it in your blind attempt at putting more distance between the both of you.

“What’re you doing?”

Curiosity never blended well with danger and yet the person at your back, who’s large round eyes you met over your shoulder and instantly recognized as the same ones belonging to a certain visitor back in the brig, was every bit of that.

~

Mingi’s head turned at the sound of the door opening, watching with squinted eyes as Seonghwa slipped into the room wordlessly. From below him, Yeosang stirs slightly but remains in the throes of slumber.

“Seonghwa?”

“You’re still awake.” Wasn’t a question, wasn’t meant to be one.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Both of them were shying away from the elephant in the room, choosing to creep around the subject out of their own selfishness. Mingi wanted to know what had happened but couldn’t stand to hear how awful (because he knew what his beloved was like— they all did) Hongjoong must have been and Seonghwa was still reeling in his anger. He didn’t want to lash out at the younger, knowing it would be misdirected. Mingi didn’t deserve that, even if his wing-bound was a royal asshole.

Seonghwa retreats to his armoire, exchanging one article of clothing with another until he was dressed in his nightclothes and the previously worn were deposited into the basket at the bottom of the closet. Mingi’s eyes watched his every movement, head laying back down onto Yeosang’s chest. Every meticulous movement seemed to lull a weight over his eyelids.

“Seonghwa?”

“Yes, Min?”

Mingi shifts a bit, curling further into Yeosang’s side while the other man lets out a sleepy huff.

“Will… Will you tell me what happened?”

There’s an audible sigh in the dimly lit room, the oil lamp sitting on the nightstand on the opposite side of where Mingi laid hardly provided enough light to make out the shape of the older man. But it wasn’t needed, he was already at the foot of the bed, tired eyes looking softly at the way Yeosang slept and Mingi attached to his side like freshly tapped sap.

“No. It’s not important, go to sleep.” Seonghwa moved to the lamp, snuffing out the flame with a turn of the wick. The room fell into complete darkness.

Mingi feels the bed shift and the covers that are thrown over the two already tucked in are tugged a bit in the older man’s pursuit of comfort. He doesn’t want to drop the subject, curiosity gripping at him like his own hand on the handle of his less-than valued dagger.

“Seonghwa—“

“What?” His tone is spread thinly within the darkness.

“I just want to know—“

“I’m tired, Mingi. Please, snuff out your curiosities and go to sleep.”

It goes quiet again but there’s a tension feeding over an invisible bridge across Yeosang’s sleeping form. Mingi shifts a bit, raising his head and his hand from the chest he was using to rest on. He had to seek out Seonghwa in the dark. If he doesn’t, he’ll remain restless.

“No more questions, promise. But a kiss, perhaps?”

Seonghwa sighs, his eyes staring at the blanket of black obscuring where he knows the ceiling panels are. Mingi wasn’t such a simple creature, but he always asked for the simplest things when his grandeur was denied. It wasn’t like answering his questions would have been such a difficult task to do but Seonghwa couldn’t continue swishing around the bitter acid in his mouth that the situation put there just to appease his mate. But he could compromise.

Mingi waits patiently when he hears the bed move and the covers shift and the micro sensation of the older man’s body heat barely gracing the moth fuzz on his face. Plush lips meet plush lips in the dark, soft and warm and gentle in their caress. Mingi sighs, hand patting around blindly for any trace of Seonghwa’s skin to latch onto. But he comes up empty handed and Seonghwa retreats back into the unknown space on his side of the bed. Mingi can’t withhold the whine from his throat, lips tingling and craving more than was given.

“Good night, Mingi.”

His disappointment is swallowed in favor of returning back to Yeosang’s chest, staring absentmindedly into the dark where he hopes Seonghwa is laying.

“Good night.”

~

Hongjoong’s in the process of unbuttoning his shirt when there’s a round of steady knocks at the door. The pipe he had been smoking earlier hung lazily between clenched teeth, small puffs of smoke escaping with each noiseless exhale. He fingers a few papers sitting on the surface of his desk before giving a loud enough grunt when the knocking continues.

“Fucking enter or leave.”

The door creaks open and a figure slips in without a word.

“What’d you want? It’s late and I’m too tired to deal with anymore of your nonsense.”

Yunho leaned against the wood of the now closed door, watching his captain pluck a paper from the desk, give it a little aimless chuckle before balling it up and casting it off to the side where the roaring fireplace crackled with life. Clouds of smoke separated into a haze around the man’s head, spreading thin yet wide.

“Mingi’s not here?”

“Does it look like he is? Sent ‘im off to Yeosang’s bed for the night. Had things to do and couldn’t be bothered with a clingy little moth in my way.” Hongjoong doesn’t turn when he speaks, rather keeping his attention on the insignificant documents begging for his approval. He hated one-sided deals, most of which taking up space on the wood were just that. Bargains upon bargains in which he’d be given less than half any share. Might as well polish dirt.

Yunho pushes off the door and approaches with steady footsteps. He counts each one in his head— not too many to be mistaken for eagerness but none too little to give way of hesitation. Either one will be sniffed out by Hongjoong in a mere wings beat.

“Good. That’s… good.” The taller’s tone was his worst enemy. Even more was his audible swallow right after.

Hongjoong turned slowly, dark eyes immediately hooking into Yunho’s beaten skin. “Why’re you here, Yunho?”

“I just…” He falters, both in voice and steps. “I just want to help you get ready for bed. I know it’s been a rough turning of day for you.”

“Has it now? And I wonder whose fault that would be, hm?”

Yunho continues forward until he stands toe-to-toe with the man who had bludgeoned him in the brig just hours ago. The man he loves. The man he vowed to love until his wings ceased to function and the last of his days were under the moon’s watchful eyes. Hongjoong’s head tilted up, not by the distance of height but by the gentle finger beneath his chin. The pipe he had between his teeth was removed by the other hand belonging to Yunho and laid to rest atop the papers.

“Not entirely mine but I will admit my faults and make amends for my mistakes… if you’ll let me.”

Hongjoong betrays nothing of his thoughts, just stares without a word up at Yunho. He didn’t need to, not really. Yunho knew he was expecting him to do what he said he would, no point in barking out more orders. Moments like this are when the captain is the easiest to love. Fleeting as they are, but all the same.

Yunho’s finger drags slowly down and across Hongjoong’s jawline, dipping over the curve of it and further descending along the side of his neck.

But that is as far as he makes it, or rather that is as far as Hongjoong allows him to go. A strong grip latches onto Yunho’s wrist and wretches his touch away from the older man’s flesh. There’s something calculative in his eyes, like he was trying to figure out the best move to make. One that’ll be entirely in his favor.

“A bit bold of you to come in here and assume that you are forgiven just because you bat your pretty little eyes and whisper pitiful machinations at me. And touching,” Hongjoong shifts his hand to merely hold the same finger that trailed an unseen path along his skin, the padded tip peeking out from his curled fist. “Did I strike you so hard that you’ve lost all common sense? Are you stupid, Yunho?”

Yunho could only swallow, the lifeline he had held onto had grown slick within his hands and was sliding out of his hold faster than he could grasp. The ground beneath him would do him a proper service by opening up and swallowing him whole. Hongjoong watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the sudden nervous shake of his eyes bringing a satisfied smile to his lips.

“Oh? Did you really think you could fool me, Yunnie?”

Wooyoung’s favored pet-name sounded completely wrong falling from Hongjoong’s curled little grin. Usually, it was bathed in a soft playfulness, a comfort akin to a favored blanket. But from the captains' lips did it sound uncannily saccharine, a false pretense of what it should be but rather a poorly placed mask. Yunho knew he was doing it on purpose, making it obvious that the endearment wasn’t spoken out of the same love that his wing-bound would have done.

“No, that’s not… that isn’t what I was trying to do. Truly, I just wanted to make amends for my carelessness during the mission and for the… not birdling situation.”

“Making amends would fall into the same grave as vying for forgiveness.” Hongjoong releases Yunho’s finger but quickly scoops up the same hand and guides it with an almost calm insistence to the buttons still holding his shirt together.

Yunho exhaled heavily, “Then let me do both. At once… together.”

One button, two buttons, three and four and the count got lost between wandering hands and pressed lips. Hongjoong had his arms thrown around Yunho’s neck, boots forced onto the toes and chest pressed bare to the taller man’s clothed torso. Yunho knelt slightly, knees cracking a bit under the stiff position to wrap one arm around Hongjoong’s waist while the other crawled under the back of the captain's shirt to grasp at his warm skin. Hongjoong always seemed to have a fire lit beneath his flesh. Never warm, never implicitly inviting. But hot, smoldering, luring anyone in who got close enough to the wild exuberance without being scorched to nothingness.

Yunho lifted the other like he weighed little less than a rucksack filled with spindles of worm-silk. Long legs crossed from the disoriented desk in the captain's office to the private sleeping quarters where the oak door riddled with the past gnawing's of termites eased shut by the heel of Yunho’s boot. Hongjoong had slithered a ringed hand into dark strands, fisting their softness until the younger groaned. A sound so satisfying that the captain just had to hear it again— and thrice more after that.

“Please— if you keep doing that, ‘m afraid my legs won’t be able to hold neither of our weight.”

“That so?”

Hongjoong had a salacious twinkle in his eyes, paired with the flush gracing his skin against the orange glow of the oil lamp nearby and the swollen pout swatched in a delicate red, Yunho could feel his knees giving small warning jitters that he was quite weak already.

But that didn’t matter, not when Hongjoong descended once again onto Yunho’s lips, rendering every single nerve ending in his scalp to the tips of his toes utterly useless. Tongues dipped and curled and tasted around the edges of teeth and across slimy gums, meeting in the epicenter of moisture ridden heat to undulate against one another until saliva rose like the entrapped water lurking far beneath the city of lights. Yunho set Hongjoong down at the foot of his bed, parting with an awfully wet smack that roped off into a tethered string attached to both of their lower lips.

Something in the way the captain looked at Yunho made him feel wanted in the worst of ways. Underneath long lashes was a beast in wait, teeth aching to sink into supple flesh and tear apart every inch of untouched soul.

“Finish your amending, Yunho.”

Had he been a stronger man, had he never left his beloved alone after the minor argument they had, choosing to stay and fix it rather than leaving Wooyoung to sleep on with heavy heart, had he chose to remain in that room instead of here with his mate looking up at him like he was just another object in his possession— realization that reconciling required more than just a prurient approach to mend the unstable situation between him and the captain would have kept his boots by the door of his own quarters. Instead, they were kicked off across the wooden floors of Hongjoong’s bedroom where another pair joined and the littering’s of leather, linen and cotton branched out to connect each article of clothing together.

Hongjoong’s soft moan fades into a breathy laugh, head knocked back while Yunho’s lips birth irregularly shaped bruises across the column of his throat. In his lap was the barest form of Hongjoong, sweat spread lightly over the curves and contours of his body lit aglow by the oil lamp. Yunho could almost swap out the horrible man from the brig with this erotically lust-drunk creature swaying atop of his cock. In a way, this was a completely different person. Someone who reflected his most vulnerable state without hindrance, unashamed of the whines and eyerolls and desperate pleas for more and more and more.

“Does he know you are here? Fucking me, warming my bed while his remains cold. What a— oh fuck— what a terrible lover you are.” Hongjoong’s at his ear, enticing moans intertwined with salacious commentary. But it was true, Yunho left Wooyoung to sleep alone after another petty squabble to come here and bury his cock in their captain. The same one that held no mercy when bludgeoning his face and torso. It was wrong to not care but the man didn’t, not for his wing-bound, not for himself.

Yunho’s hips bucked upward in a round of steady jolts, cock sheathing to the hilt from a halfway point that left the remaining length inside of Hongjoong. He couldn’t really part from him, a note of possessiveness of having his captain under his large warm hands, in the cradle of his arms and impaled on his member. Not even the reminder of the bruises on his face, the swollen mess of his eye or any of the cuts and splits of his flesh could compare to the throes of passion he was drowning himself in. All for Hongjoong, all for his beloved captain.

~

You swivel away from Jongho like he had held a lit cigarette against the back of your arm, nearly slamming into the entrance frame of the corridor. He looked at you then at San and then to the plate of food sitting untouched on the table.

His head tilts and a pout tugs his lips forward, “Not eating? Better not let captain find out.”

“He won’t. Not unless you keep your mouth shut.” San was stiff, eyeing the sudden appearance of his mate like he came bearing all sorts of wicked omens.

Jongho’s gaze flits back to San, his wing-bound, and the stirrings of something mischievous flutter within his chest. Oh, how he loved to see his beloved bothered, teetering on the fine edge of glass by his own hand. Nothing soothed his soul more than knowing that he was upset by his presence, his meddling.

“Are you threatening me? Your mate?” His attention drifts to you, pressed tight against the dining hall entrance. “Can you believe that we are bound both by soul and the very blood pumping us alive? You’d think with the way he speaks to me that he hated me. Isn’t that interesting?”

You had nothing to say, and even if you did it wasn’t like the situation would be proper enough to spit it out. Jongho looked at you like how an unruly child looks at a shiny new toy, the promise to yank and pull and handle without any sort of care gleaming within his round eyes.

“Why are you here?” But San wouldn’t let a second of barely held control slip further from his fingers.

The question makes the younger’s eyes roll, having heard enough of it all-hours in passing. Was he not allowed to be anywhere, around anyone? For fucksake he felt like a fly stuck against the sticky tassels from above— the thought halts and the stirring in his chest amplifies.

Once again, you are in his sights. “Didn’t you say you were from above?”

How he knew that was beyond you, a detail within a conversation you didn’t have with him let alone anywhere near him. It causes an uneasy feeling to creep along the back of your neck, like the tips of spindly fingers just barely catching against your skin.

“I didn’t— not to you.”

Jongho looks contemplative, eyes adverting to an undisclosed spot on the ceiling. San takes the short opening to draw near, close enough that he could reach a full arm's length towards you and the fabric of his gloves would brush against your arm. A butterfly effect almost ensues, you, having seen the movement, tries to sidestep further away which immediately captures Jongho’s attention once again and upon seeing his lover attempting to grow closer, makes the decision to suddenly grab a hold of you all the easier.

“Running off so soon? And without having your dinner that was not only prepared just for you but also carried all the way here, so you had someplace to eat that wasn’t on the floor.” You shudder in his surprisingly constrictive grasp, leaning away when every word he spoke into your ear was accompanied by a blow of warm air. “Maybe you should have it on the ground, yeah? I’ll tip every last bit of it for you to lick up like those beasts running wild up above. You know, the ones that howl at the moon.”

“Jongho.”

San’s warning tone did nothing to the younger man, rather Jongho seemed to ignore him altogether.

You writhe around like a cat caught by the scruff, legs kicking back and nailing any part of his legs that you could land. There’s a gathering of spit in your mouth, and surely if you stood where San was then you’d appear to be frothing as if ridden by rabies.

“Let me go! Let me fucking go you crazy piece of shit!”

“What a mouth you’ve got there. But if you insist. Have it your way.” Jongho releases his hold right when both of your legs are kicked up into the air, unceremoniously dropping you onto the floor. You hiss at the pain shooting up from your backside, but it doesn’t compare to the sudden hand carding through your hair and fisting the matted and dirty strands at the roots.

Jongho yanks your head back, peering down at you like a child would when stumbling across a funny looking bug. His smile is disarming, rounded cheeks and small little squared teeth with plenty of pink gums. You scowl, trying to ignore the fact that your head was throbbing from the source of his hand.

“I don’t think those beasts can talk. Should I help you with that as well?” He thinks for a moment, “Maybe some other time. Right now, you should have your supper. Come along.”

The man takes a step forward and with the next one proceeds to drag you by the hold he has on your hair, treating it like a leash on a dog. You curse, hands immediately flying up to his own, scratching and digging into his skin in hopes that he would let go. But he didn’t, rather he would pull and tug you along while you fought with what little energy you have left. Your feet were useless, not having enough grip to dig into the floor. San watches on silently, jaw clenched, and fists balled at his sides. He knew he should step in, make his beloved cease his torment but a part of him that kept his boots rooted reminded him of your disobedience and apathetic behavior towards him and his mates.

Jongho stopped at the side of the table where your food sat, untouched (only slightly) and probably cold. With his unoccupied hand, he takes the plate with the bowl and topples it over onto the ground. Vegetables, mush and congealed soup with meaty bits splatter across the wood, even so much as splashing onto your jeans. You can’t flinch away with the grip still wedged within your hair.

“Isn’t that better? Now you can properly enjoy your meal as intended. I’ll even assist you further.”

Another strong yank and your head is brought face-to-face with the spilled slop, hands slipping through the soup to try and keep yourself from face planting into it. But that wasn’t good enough for Jongho. No, he wanted to see you pressed into the mess you’ve created by being ungrateful. His hand lets your hair go and relief is immediate, enough to have you sighing. But you realize rather quickly (or maybe not as quickly as you wished) once you begin to raise your head away from the floor that you’ve made a wrong move.

“Uh-uh, down you go.”

Something hard collides with the back of your head and sends it slamming into the food riddled ground. Your face is squashed onto its side and whatever it was that hit you remained pressed to your head, keeping it pinned in place like one does to a specimen.

“Get— off—“

You claw at the wooden panels beneath like it would help but it only caused your fingertips to burn.

“What was that? Shouldn’t you be eating?”

Jongho’s boot presses more firmly down against your head, the sound of your muffled cry bringing a satisfied smile to his lips. San couldn’t watch anymore, head cast down and to the side, your wet pleas for help-like nails on a chalkboard. You felt humiliated, like a dog who’s pissed on the floor after holding it for far too long, knowing that the action will only lead to trouble and the consequence for it is to be shoved face-first into the yellow puddle while harsh obscenities are thrown like darts at a dartboard.

“Please— ‘M sorry— I won’t do it again—“

What exactly won’t you do again? Refuse to eat? All of this just because you were cautionary against your captors. Is that not normal behavior after being forced against your will by strangers to god knows where? It’s not like any of them have been particularly welcoming, if anything you could probably count on both hands the amount of threats they’ve spewed at you and on your toes the actual physical harm they’ve done. This was madness, and all because you didn’t trust them or their intentions (which were made blatantly clear by that bastard captain).

“Sannie? What are you— Jongho, what the fuck are you doing?!”

San lifts his head just as Jongho turns his, both meeting Wooyoung’s wide eyes from the dining hall entrance. He was a bit disheveled with sleep still clinging to his nightwear and ruddy cheeks. His hair was mussed into a messy nest with strands sticking out here and there. But his eyes, despite clearly having just woken up, were more awake than the rest of him.

~

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sosorry.”

After cleaning up the kitchen for the night (and whipping up an extra plate for the not-birdling), Wooyoung dragged himself to his shared quarters where he hoped Yunho would be waiting. There was much to be said but when he opened the door and saw his wing-bound sitting on the edge of their bed, beaten black and blue the only words he could get out between the sudden onset of sobs is ‘I’m sorry’. Yunho welcomed the hold of his lover with his own awaiting arms, both wrapping each other in an embrace that spoke far more than words could. There was love, reassurance, guilt and forgiveness.

And what didn’t pass through their mutual holding was exchanged in fleeting kisses— one pressed here and there, a little chaste, a bit of teeth, soft, soothing, adoring. It happened between the shedding of Wooyoung’s clothing and his redressing, tender and gentle. But Yunho didn’t escape from his own attire, refusing when the younger tried to undo the ties on the front of his trousers.

“You… You aren’t staying, are you?”

Wooyoung hated the bitter feeling clawing at the back of his throat. Even more when Yunho’s eyes adverted while he excused himself to instead fluff the pillows on Wooyoung’s side of the bed. Even after all of sediments shared, his mate was still planning on being anywhere that wasn’t with him.

“Just going for a short walk. Seeing if, you know who, is still down in the brig.” Yunho avoids every attempt that Wooyoung makes to make eye-contact until he grows restless enough to let out a strained laugh.

“Seriously? You never care about anyone who ends up there.”

Yunho runs a hand through his hair, a bit out of nerves and a bit out of frustration. “She wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for us. There’s a difference between that and the slugs that wish to do us harm that end up in those cells.”

Wooyoung frowns. He knows Yunho is making up a lie to where he is actually running off to, almost like he knows that if he revealed his true intentions the younger would throw a fit.

Seeing his beloved growing upset causes Yunho’s face to soften. He hated keeping things from Wooyoung, giving half-truths and evasive answers but if his wing-bound knew that he was planning on sharing Hongjoong’s bed tonight (even without the captain himself knowing) than Wooyoung would put up a fight that would probably bring the walls down in their shared space.

“Youngie—”

“I hate that you feel like lying to me is the best thing for you to do.” He looks at Yunho with an unreadable expression, one that makes Yunho wince. “I know you better than anyone else does, better than you know yourself, Jeong Yunho.”

Wooyoung buries himself under the covers of their bed, back turned to his mate out of pettiness. Yunho winces again at the use of his full name, very rarely was it ever used especially by his beloved. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave and seek out the danger in the dark but deep down he wanted to taste that heat, that fire promising nothing but to consume and ruin him into nothing.

Hesitantly, Yunho bends over the bed with one knee sunken into the mattress, to place a soft apologetic kiss to the side of Wooyoung’s head. No words are exchanged further, and Yunho is gone behind the closing click of their private quarter's door. Wooyoung lays in the quiet stillness until it bears down on him too much for him to handle. The tears bubble and flow down his skin and soak into the neckline of his sleep shirt and pillow, some even slipping between his parted lips as he sobs uncontrollably into his hands.

He wept and wept and wept until his tears soothed him into a sluggish slumber, the only comfort he had, the only thing that would remain stuck to his skin even after he aroused an indiscernible amount of time later. Still alone and still crying.

Perhaps he should go for a walk himself. Clear his head of his heartache, banish away the somber thoughts for the night.

~

Wooyoung’s eyes flit from San to Jongho to you, with your face still squashed against the spilled food and floorboards, boot heavy against your head.

“Wooyoung, what are you doing awake?” San looks over Wooyoung, from the tear trails staining his skin to the puffiness lining his eyes. He quickly drew the conclusion that his mate had been crying, something that bothered him immensely.

“Me being awake isn’t important— what the hell are you both doing to her? Jongho, remove your fucking boot from her head!” Wooyoung rushes over to Jongho, socked feet shoved into wonky looking slippers that have most definitely seen better days. That’s all you could see, were his slippers.

Jongho pouts when Wooyoung shoves him away, his boot removed from your head. You let out a shuddered sigh, shakily pushing yourself up onto your knees. The feeling of cold soup and meat bits against the side of your face threatened to draw a gag out of you. Even the smell had gone pungent.

“Explain— one of you! Whatever the fuck this is, right now.”

“It’s nothing, Wooyoung.”

San’s failure to give an actual explanation only made the other man more upset. But why? It wasn’t like he owed you anything, not like you’ve been the most personable person since he and Yunho brought you here. Not even beforehand, had you displayed even an inch of niceness. But maybe his anger wasn’t from this ordeal, most of it had to have been from his squabble with Yunho. The sour feelings left on a bitter open edge. However, that wasn’t exactly right either. He was still angry with his beloved, but he was very much ticked off by what his other two mates were doing to you. Because despite him wanting to believe he really didn’t owe you anything, Yunho’s words from earlier did dust off the truth. You wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for them. You wouldn’t have been thrown in the brig or faced Hongjoong or forced under Jongho’s boot if it wasn’t for his baseless accusations.

He did owe you. Even if a little bit.

“Nothing? Do I look stupid to you? This clearly isn’t ‘nothing’.” Wooyoung turns with a hiss, eyes narrowed.

San looks away at that, a tinge of shame crossing his features. Maybe things did go too far, and he was too blinded by his own minuscule grudge to see that.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal. She refused to eat, so I gave her a warning. Could have been worse,” Jongho pauses, looking down at you with that passing gleam in his eyes. “Hongjoong could have found out and she’d be dealing with him… again.”

You scowl, lunging towards him with your hand balled into a fist. You’ve had enough— of him, of the rest, of Hongjoong, of this awful place, of the pit. Your momentum is sluggish enough for Jongho to evade with a casually sidestep and Wooyoung to grab ahold of your flying arm without hardly moving from his spot. Fuck, you were exhausted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t really care. But you will do yourself a favor and clean this shit up before Hongjoong finds out you’ve wasted food just to torment her.” Wooyoung hauls you up by your one arm and then maneuvers it to drape across his shoulders. You can’t find it in yourself to shove him away, like that last bit of reserved adrenaline had completely wiped you out.

“I didn’t waste—“

“Shut up. Mops in the closet over there with the bucket for water. Dry rags are on the second shelf.” Wooyoung turns away, barely acknowledging San as he passes.

“You’ve been crying.”

“You should probably help him.”

You keep your eyes downward as Wooyoung leads you out of the dining hall and down the corridor bathed in shadows. He takes a left and another left and a right and you wonder if you are in some kind of maze. But that’s probably just your exhaustion settling over your brain, a thick impenetrable blanket that ends up stealing away your consciousness before you realize. Wooyoung feels your weight suddenly grow heavier, enough to have him stumble a bit. He looks over at you to see your head bent forward uncomfortably and when he shakes you, it lulls to the side. You’ve fallen asleep or rather fallen unconscious under a dog pile of stress.

He sighs, shifts you around with the finesse of a baby caterpillar, hooking an arm under your knees and around your upper back. The position had to be uncomfortable if you were awake and for him, it definitely was looking at it, but it provided an easier means to transport you. Wooyoung hadn’t a single clue where you were to be sleeping for the night if things had turned out differently for you but for now, he was going to return back to his room with you cradled in his arms and hope that either you spare him your wrath when you wake up or Yunho— he bites the thought in half. No part of him wants to entertain anything pertaining to his wing-bound at the moment. If Yunho shows his face in the morning with an argument ready on his tongue than Wooyoung will gladly sever the muscle right in half.

Oh, those tears weren’t even worth shedding. Staining his skin and pillow, leaving behind the evidence of a breakdown worth absolutely nothing.

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