#beating the shit out of someone with a metal water bottle was pretty in line with my character when i was 14

[gremlinghost]

Shout out to that one time in middle school when a kid kept constantly calling me and my friends slurs, so I took my water bottle and dumped it on his head and said smth like "tell the teachers why you're all wet, I dare you" and and then all my friends said they thought i was going to beat the shit out of him with my metal water bottle.

[slater-later]

I Want to Watch You Grow

Brian Kelly x Trans Masc Reader

Read it here on AO3 if you would like!

- This is a Brian Kelly x Trans Man reader fan fic. This conronicles your long term relationship with Brian and your development with yourself. Your body, and transition as a transman.

- I hope everyone enjoys this. Finds space within themselves and their relationship with the world. It’s okay to be trans, being trans is beautiful. it’s a difficult, glorious journey that is far more of a beginning then an end. Living happy life, being proud of yourself and your body.

- The fic is long, about 12 pages. So please, soak it in, and I wish you the happiest day!

The two of you had been dating for some time. You had met at a small high school party. A good group of friends coming together around a Summer bonfire, slipping your feet out from the well worn sandals and wiggling them infront of a fire. The soles of your feet toasted, turning them around to be goldened on both sides. You held a long metal skewer with two plump marshmallows on the end, rotating it around as you warmed it to a golden ball of glory.

It was sweet, being able to spend time with old friends and make some new. Your friend Ronnie had invited the skater kids from school to join you. He had bonded with them over their mutual love for rock and rap music. It made sense, they both loved Public Enemy. Blasting ‘We Got the Power’ out of their car radios whenever they had a chance. 

You enjoyed it, they threw out some good rhymes and it was a battle cry for your youth. You generation. You couldn’t help but bob your head to the music and belt along.

It was towards the end of the night when you two met. Brian had showed up late, hair slicked with a heavy line of sweat. A shirt quickly shoved into his pants, trying to clean up for his group of friends after a long day of skating.

He had skipped out of work that day- well, really, the restaurant was slow so there wasn’t much need for two busboys. He had spent the rest of his afternoon and late into the stary night, skating at the skatepark. The street lights clicked on and it had made it hard for him to see the clear edges of the ramps. It was time to turn in and get a bite to eat. Putting aside the new trick he caught from someone else. Trying to nail it. 

If he knew it could be done, then he could. He just needed enough time and perseverance to figure it out.

With skating, the possibilities were endless. It was his place to let go of life’s worries and focus on something where had complete control. The complete right to be, what and who he is, with no to tell him otherwise. Skating was like a lifeblood for him, his way of life.

His boundless universe.

He came jogging in, skateboard in hand as he approached the group huddled around the warm fire. 

The trees swayed, creaking under the age and weight of their own majesty with a long gust of wind. It was dark, the hum of Summer turning to a deep pitch of haze. Black rolling in, only to be illuminated by the glaze of starfull and a half crescent moon. The forest was thick, lulled by the hum of heated crickets and hushed by the cool breeze of night. Smoke pooling from the warm fire, whisping and licking up the sky with powerful might. Your toes curled, seeking a gentle relief from its delightful burning flame.

They were roasted and baked. You tucked them into the ground, shifting your heals to push back the brush and find a damp, cool, interior.

Brian waved, throwing an arm up to welcome everyone. A boy buzzed in the background, rolling a hit out of a cheaply made bong. Coughing as he blew out his lungs. Stoned till’ the cows come home.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, it uh, took me a while to find you guys,” He smiled, strolling on into the circle and making his way over to Yabbo. Giving him a high five and saying hello to Buddy. 

You popped your marshmallow onto a graham cracker and some chocolate. You munched on your treat, washing it down with a sip of beer.

You watched Brian that night, catching his eyes as he chatted with Buddy over some trick he had been captivated by. Transfixed on trying to nail, to, gleam the cube. 

He noticed, his shit stain smirk would appear even in mid sentence. Hands flailing out, gesturing and expressing his exasperation on some wild tangent he was on about skating. About life. About love. It was amusing to watch him, loud and audacious as he was. He could even make Buddy loud, who was normally a quiet and reserved guy. Get him chuckling about some silly joke he made, and pairing it with an audacious face. Hands whipped out, a cross between a dragon and a gorilla.

You had finished off your second beer, musing with a friend about the stars as you gazed. Heads turned up, pondering the wide expanse of space. Its’ glorious bounds, its beauty, its’ wonder.

It put things in perspective for you. Not in a scary way, but in a comforting one. That sometimes, our emotions can feel massive. And they can be! But they also fall away, soothe and ease, as we realize, this shall pass. As all things. Even life. And so, what we must work towards is enjoying it. Like moments like these- feet kicked up on a stump, back eased into a lawn chair with a good beer in hand, spending time with friends. The summer breeze cooling your warm skin, still tanned and glowing from a long day spent outside. Walking, running, and spending time with those that mattered to you. You can’t steal back time, but instead, enjoy it.

Brian tapped Buddy’s shoulder, gesturing for him to shift over as he stood up. Slicking to the outside of the circle, making his way over.

He stopped at the bag of mellows, nabbing two and popping one in his mouth. Munching on its sugary goodness as he finished the trip. Sliding down and popping on the ground, criss-cross-apple-sauce style.

You picked your chin up from the stars, turning your head towards him, “Hey.”

“Hey,” He smiled tiredly, softly. It had grown late and the group had died down, calming and chatting amongst themselves. “So, I uh, don’t think I caught your name,” He mused, chuckling with an anxious delight. He had caught your fancy and talking to attractive people always made his insides flutter.

“It’s Y/N, what’s yours?” You smiled, letting out a tiny yawn, hand hovering over your mouth.

And on command, it was his turn. “Briannn.” He said, pushing through his wide open mouth, eyes turning to closed slits. Watering. 

“Jesus, I’m beat,” He muttered, whipping his eyes.

“You too?” You couldn’t stop, the two of you speaking through widely stretched mouths, yawning and releasing the tired souls of your body out into the air. Like ghosts being exercised. 

“Yeah!” He squeaked, putting his hand over his mouth. This time his mouth reaching out farther. As if a shark could unhinge its massive jaw.

Slowly, both of yours bodies cooled down. Chatted about the quiet, peaceful sounds of the forest. How the night made your feel alive, at ease within your own body. It was easy talking with such a nice man, cracking soft jokes and poking fun at the world. The politicians, the fat cats, and parents. Some stupid shit a drunk girl did at school, how the one guy on the football team fucked the head swimmer and stirred drama in the theatre group. He had been dating Jared, but it all fell for shit when he saw Sam in those swim trunks.

You both agreed, he looked mighty fine in the spandex speedo. And Tom did too, especially when he found out how kind he was.

“So who do you think is the biggest class clown? Don or Vinny?” You mused, shifting your weight in your seat. Turning towards him.

“Ahhh, I’m not so sure. Vinny is my man, but I really like Tabitha-”

“That bitch?” You shot, clicking your tongue. “She fucking stole $20 out of my backpack, fuck her!”

His eyebrows knitted, looking disappointed. “Yeahhh, she ain’t very nice. I disagree with you there,” He looked at the blaze, shaking his head. “But it’s not a ‘frienship’ competition. I give her props pouring that bottle of stinky slick on that jerk in Ceramics. That one that makes all those gross racist comments in school.” Fuck him for his piece of shit mind. There was no reason to be like that.

“-Ugh!” Your eyes rolled, shaking your head, “I know, I fucking hate him. He’s a piece of shit,” Internally you groaned, thinking of his disgusting face.

“For that, I respect her. The fool won’t change his mind and he needs to learn that he can’t do shit like that. It’s not like he’ll listen, I’ve tried,” He popped a mellow into his mouth, chewing. “She got 3 days of suspension for that. It was pretty ballsy,” Shitting on racist was both funny and satisfying. 

“What-? Why did she get that-?”

He shrugged, looking amazed, “I don’t know. It’s fucked up, that’s school for ya. It’s not right.”

You shook your head disgusted. If only they would understand, listen. “Ok, so, who has your favorite comedy?

“-Sam,” He smiled, poking a branch into the fire.

You watched him stir up the flame, picking at a log and turning it over. 

“Same, he’s really nice. He’s quiet but he has a smart tongue on him,” Slowly the fire grew. Emboldened by the new life, “Tom’s really lucky.”

Brian shot you a look, teeth flashing in a grin, “Cuz Jared’s so hot?”

You shot up in your seat, pushing yourself closer to him- “Okay though, right?!” Brian burst out laughing, head thrown back as he boomed. 

You waved your hands up into the air, desperately. “He has those pecs! Those thick arms! I just wanna be hugged by him!” He was a big tall teddy bear! A muscular one too! Who doesn’t love a big teddy bear?!

“I know, I know!” He slapped his knee, face red and warm, and it wasn’t from the booze. “He’s cute! He’s really cute!” He laughed, smiling through his big open mouth.

The two of you talked for the rest of the night, making another round of smores and sipping on the last of your cold beer. It was easy, talking to him. You found a kind of warm comfort and acceptance by such a free soul. By someone who really just wanted to be seen and heard, and loved for who he was.

*****

That night would bloom into many others. A few months you spent together, as friends, and the others, as lovers. You slowly got to know each other over time progressed. Eventually, love bloomed. Infatuation took to desire, day dreaming about the next time you’d see him. Hand propping your chin, staring off into a whiteboard filled with math equations as the teacher droned on. The last week of school was a buzzkill, bittersweet, and painfully long. 

You wanted it to end. For it to be Summer, to be scott-free and without responsibilities. But that also brought changes and your second stage of life was on the horizon.

****

The time came and both of you decided to take a year off from college. Work and save up some money. Spend time together as much you can. 

You planned on going away to school a few hours away. Brian hadn’t quite decided, but it looked to be the same. 

Both of you would attend the same school and it would work out well. Eventually, you both got through the next four years with your brains intact for the better. He majored in music production with a minor in entrepreneurship. He wanted to do something in music, start his own band and maybe build his own label. You majored in _____ and loved it. And your relationship had lasted, strengthened. Finding a quiet peace and home in one another. A thing you quietly wished for in your heart and didn’t know you needed until you found it.

The freedom to be yourself with another. One who would love and accept you, regardless of the circumstances and the changes.

But it didn’t always make it easy. You had been having feelings about your body. Ones that you didn’t quite like and found increasingly frustrating to have. To not have the words, the names, to understand and express how you felt.

You already knew you weren’t straight. That had long been established to yourself and to Brian’s knowledge. He didn’t care- well, that wasn’t quite the right way to put it. He was supportive of your queerness and actually encouraged it. You both were fluid as a snake- bodies and gender thrown right out of the door. What mattered was the person, the attraction, and the two of you- had a lot of that for one another.

He also wasn’t one to put up many questions about the way you dressed. Switching out fem for? Masculine? He was game. He liked your style, even sowed on some patches on your jacket when he asked. Though as time wore on, catching the way you shield away from your chest… Your feelings about your body… He noticed. 

“Hey babe?” He slid into the frame of the doorway, hand grasping the side of the wood as he leaned in. Watching you do your hair, clothed, and fixing your hair.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You looked at him through the mirror, running a comb through your head. “Is my coffee ready?”

“Yeah, it’s on the kitchen table. With your toast,” He walked in, looking quiet. Tentative. “Can I talk to you about something?”

You turned, “Yeahhhh…” Your voice fluttered, knowing that face he makes. It made you uneasy. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Are you… alright? You’ve been distant lately, like somethings on your mind,” He paused, looking down. Guilty, “Did I do something wrong? Are we alright?” He leaned his back against the wall, thumbs hooked into his jean pockets. Glancing up at you.

You set down the brush, turning, “Yeah,” You coed softly. Tenderly to the sweet man, “We’re okay, I’m just going through some stuff,” It was easier to put that into words. You needed time to figure things out, to share how you felt. You didn’t even have them for yourself, at least not clearly.

You hoped time would reveal itself, help your understand and work through what you were feeling.

And you didn’t know how it would change you. Or, for the matter, Brian. Your relationship with him.

He gestured to you, beat, “Do you.. Wanna talk about it?”

It fell on silence, unsure.

“Yes… but not now. I need some time,” You stepped, drawing his eyes.

“Like… how long?” It was bugging him, an itch he can’t scratch. A problem he saw, a frustration he can’t touch.

It was yours, and one that effected him. He wanted you happy and content.

To ease your pain.

“I’m not sure,” You slipped a hand into his and locked fingers together. Drawing his hand up and lined your hips with his. Brian’s other slip around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re going to have to wait, to trust me until I’m ready to talk about it. But I do love you- and it’s not because of you,” You pressed your lips to his, slowly lifting them away. “Or something you’ve done. We’re okay.”

“Alright, I just-” He looked into your eyes, vulnerable. “I want you to be happy, no matter what. Whatever it is.”

“And I thank you for that, I really do. I appreciate it,” Another press, lips locked, tongues twisting for a moment. 

“Oh? Is someone?” 

You laughed, caught red-handed, “Yeah, a bit.” You mused.

****

And for a while, it was left like that. You ordered yourself a proper binder and he was properly happy for you, seeing you excited to go and slip it on as soon as it came in the mail. You checked yourself out in the mirror, beaming as you found a sense of newfound confidence and comfort in your appearance. Your body.

He liked the way you smelled after you changed deodorants. You smelled rich and musky, one that you both adored. For him, it was intoxicating. Even picked up your armpit in bed as you yelped, his head buried in your pit to get a good whiff of your scent. Both of you sent laughing and shouting and you play fought in bed, beating back the monster you so endearingly loved.

“Fucking hell Brian!! Give me my arm back!”

“No! Never!” He bellowed, hand tightening around your wrist, pinning it against the wall as your feet kicked against him. He loved it, making you mad and crazy at the same time.

Tickling was your enemy! One that he used and abused, to get you laughing and squirming as he tied his body around yes. Pressing kisses to your cheek like a woodpecker.

****

Eventually, you found answers. The internet helped and a good stack of books about gender. It worked to ease your feelings about your body and the amount of envy you had for the masculine. It was difficult at first, being able to sort through attraction and gender envy at the same time. Slowly, you found answers. A confirmation of your feelings and way of life. The amount of euphoria you received when the simple stranger called you ‘man’ or ‘sir’ felt glorious. Elating and at home with yourself in a way that felt right. A homecoming.

You started to approach the subject with Brian. The two of you were friends with trans people, but it still felt fresh. Weird, and confusing to go through yourself. Being trans still didn’t give you cut and dry answers, it was a journey. A grey area because, even through they had gone through that journey, it was still personal. You had to find answers for yourself and the world is a weird, wild place.

But, it didn’t mean you were something else. Or strange for that matter- you were you, and that’s what mattered. You were exploring.

You two had been laying in bed. A quiet Saturday day spent outside, running errands and going to the farmers market to buy fresh produce and bread. It was lovely and peaceful. You guys had turned into bed early, curled under a soft comforter as you sprawled out in bed. The sun had set.

“Hey,” You whispered, dusting a piece of long hair out of his face. He was turned towards you, a fit of blankets wrapped around him as his body cupped towards yours. 

“Hey,” He yawned, eyes fluttering in sleepiness.

You dusted a finger along his jaw, his chest slowly rising and falling. A ham all baked like a warm potato. “Can we talk?”

He shifted his head closer to your touch, liking the way you slowly stroked his skin. “Yeah, what’s up?” He yawned.

“I’ve been thinking, for a while now. That I might be trans,” You paused, wanting to release the next few words from your brain. “I think I am.”

“Oh?” He shifted up, sitting up now and trying to wake up his brain. Serious conversation time. “Really?” His voice was kind, asking for confirmation.

You nodded, “Yes.”

“As in nonbinary or trans masc?” He ran a hand through his hair, swooping the fluff back. Pulling himself together.

You laughed, feeling the butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Trans masculine.”

“Okay,” he smiled, nodding. Taking it in. “So uh, what do you want to do? If anything at all?”

“Honey-” You pestered, giving him a look.

“I’m asking! That’s up to you!” He was ginger, trying not to pry but dying inside. The questions!

“Clothes, that’s for one thing.”

“You’re already wearing my boxers- we gotta get you more of those.”

You had been stealing them from him. They were comfy, among other things. You couldn’t help but crack a guilty smile. He had mentioned it before when he had ran out, pissed because he hated wearing dirty ones.

“And shirts, and some good cuffed jeans-” You added.

“Dickie’s has those, we can thrift you Carhart’s from Goodwill.”

You paused, holding your breath. Holding onto the next few words, as if they couldn’t be taken back. Releasing them into the world, “And transitioning. I think I want to do that too.” 

He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking your palm as the two of you laid in bed. Him looking down at you as your sprawled out, your elbow propping yourself up. “Okay, if that’s what you want, I support you. I want that too,” He pulled up your hand and pressed his lips to them softly. Firmly intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing them tightly. Securely.

“Do you want to go by different pronouns? A name?”

“Yes, I want to be named Y/N,” You smiled, feeling his hands pull you in.  Draw around you in a deep hug as he slid down to your level, comforting and embracing you. “I want to go by he/him pronouns.” You chuckled against his skin, head buried into the crook of his neck.

“Well hello my Prince, I’m so glad to meet you Y/N,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling through it as your heart brust. Crying in relief, in tears of joy and relief.

“You’re not mad?” You squeaked, tears rolling down your cheek.

“Baby~” He purred, pulling back, to look into your eyes. “Of course not, I want you to be happy. You’re precious to me,” He said, soothing you. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

You nodded.

“I’ve been… wondering about it,” He mused. “I kinda figured it out after you bought your binder and started shaving your face. You barely had peach fuz but you looked so happy… so, much more bright that day,” You had slowly been trying things out. Listening to your body and how you felt. Changing your style, presenting more masculine. You even bought clothes from the men’s section and started to let go using gender specific pronouns for yourself. To ease the pain of dysphoria while you figured out feelings. Your therapist helped. 

“But I’ve been waiting until you tell me, that’s your stuff,” He wiped your chin, brushing off the stream of tears. “I know you’d tell me eventually, whatever your answer was- I want to support you. I chose that long ago, I stand by that.” He smiled, adding, “And if things change in the future, that’s okay too. Gender and bodies are a tricky thing.”

There was so many choices- my so options- in how trans people choose to express themselves. All of them are valid, it’s what makes you happy is the most important thing. What aligns with yourself.

“Thank you,” You sniffled, peaking out a smile. You were happy, and now tired, and just wanted to curl up in bed. The rush of emotions flooding your system, the bent of stress and relief washing over your system. Draining you. 

You wanted to feel this moment in its security, its acceptance. “That means a lot to me Brian.”

“Of course- and for what it matters-” He leaned into your ear, whispering, “I think you make a handsome man. And will continue too.” 

“It doesn’t change things- between us?”

He shrugged, unfazed, “I don’t think so. I’m attracted to you and I like men so-” Another quizzical look, “I don’t see how it would change things in that department. I think I need to know more but I don’t think so.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I want to read more about it so I can help you. I know it can be hard for trans people to get the resources they need to transition. We’re going to both go through this and I want to help you. -If that’s what you want, of course.”

“Oh! Okay,” you nodded. You slid down together, laying in each others arms. Curled underneath the seats, your tears dried up. Heart shining. “I want that, your help. I fucking hate calling the doctors office.”

He laughed, “I know! I know!” You would get stressed, talking on the phone could be weird sometimes. It made you anxious.

You tucked your head into his chest, hearing it beat with the life you held so closely. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you Bri, for everything.”

“Of course Y/N,” He spoke softly, warm. “I love you, you’re my everything.”

The two of you drifted off to sleep in bed, listening to the sound of Summer rain come in through the window. Drops slapping against the hard concrete, easing you into a deep slumber.

****

The two of you got along better after that. You were able to save up enough money to see a gender therapist. A general practice doctor that specialized in transgender health, giving you access to the hormone treatments you so desperately needed.

The changes came slow at first, the T being newly added to your system. Eventually, the body hair came in. Sprouting up your legs and turning thicker, darker, up your knees. Your body weight shifted, redistributing around your body with a healthy addition of exercise. Your jaw widened, spotting itself with facial hair which you so proudly grew. Cleaned up and trimmed, sculpting it to your desire. 

That was one of your favorite moments. When you asked Brian to show you how he shaved his face. He pulled out of his bag of clippers, helped you learn how to wash your face and spread shaving cream on your face. How to guide the razor against your skin, trimming the well grown facial hair.

“-Like this- you gotta go against the grain if you want it smooth,” You were both creamed up, with your hair clipped back. He had a headband pushing his strands back, keeping it from falling into his face.

“Okay,” You mumbled in front of the mirror, guiding the razor across your skin. Wincing when you nicked yourself and hoping you don’t do that again.

“It’ll get easier, trust me,” He assured, slicking the last bit of cream off of his clean face. He mostly kept himself clean shaven, though there was a time where he rocked a thin mustache. Even some musky stubble around his cheeks. Which you loved.

And so was your transition. 

In time, you qrew to love and enjoy your body even more. Seeing the face you so expected- and wished for- being reflected in the mirror. Muscles come in, adjusting your body shape to one that you desired.

Brian was very supportive. Even helped you find a good doctor for your top surgery. He pitched in money for your procedure, taking some extra hours as the store manager at the record shop where he worked. He was planning on taking it over from the owner in a few years. He had helped them expand into a second storefront. He was proud of it.

He drove you to your surgery, making sure you had everything prepared. Extra magazines, music, books, even your sketch pad and journal if you so wished it. You would sleep after your surgery in the hospital bed, groggy and tired from the boat load of meds and painkillers lulling you to a peaceful state. He wanted to make sure you were content, that you healed well and passed the time while you recovered. The tiny hospital tv having few channels to capture your attention. He ready to help you pass the time.

After your surgery, you couldn’t move your arms very much. At least not above your head. It would pull at your incisions, the area bruised and draining of fluids. He would tend to you, changing your bandages and helping you get things from the kitchen cupboards. Asking you to relax and let him take over- when you insisted on cooking dinner. That you felt fine, that the pain wasn’t too bad. Even though your chest ached, he didn’t want you to push yourself.

It was okay to lean on someone else, to let them tend to you at times in need.

He adored you and embraced the new found man you had become. He liked hearing you softly talk into his ear, listening to how your voice had dropped. Had changed, deepened, and thickened. It was an adventure for the both of you, one that you happily embraced and found a new home. In you, yourself, and each other.

He was proud to call you his boyfriend, his favorite man on Earth.

[knivestothroats]

In The Woods Somewhere pt 2 - Bite The Bullet

Immediately picks up from here.

content warnings: field medicine, gunshot wounds, using alcohol to clean wounds, stitching wounds, chained to a bed, history lessons

@lonesome--hunter​ @simplygrimly​

Buck was vaguely aware that Fletcher was speaking, but he wasn’t taking in any of the words. It didn’t seem to be directed at him, anyway. Something about a table. Nothing he was concerned with.

What he was concerned with, from least to greatest, included the following: Fletcher had a hand on his wrist, keeping his arm draped over their shoulders. Fletcher had an arm around his waist. Buck thought he might pass out, or at least fall down His head was swimming. He wasn’t sure how much blood he had lost at this point, but he was confident it was more than he would like to be losing. And lastly, his leg really, really, fucking hurt.

A new concern presented itself when Fletcher suddenly swept him up into a bridal carry. Buck let out a surprised noise, but didn’t have the energy to fight it. He was quickly set down onto a hard surface – most likely the table he had heard about – and he felt like he could melt into it. Maybe with enough exhaustion, your body just dissolves.

More talking he didn’t catch. His ears were ringing. He didn’t care – he didn’t have the energy to care.

Fletcher called out into the house, “Lesson time! Everybody downstairs!” They clapped their hands loudly. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Buck didn’t notice the people coming into the room. His attention was only drawn back when Fletcher lightly slapped his cheek. They were wearing rubber gloves.

“Hey, how much do you care about these pants?” They asked.

“Wh… What?”

“I mean, they already have a couple bullet holes and a lot of blood in them, but if you want to try to salvage them, I can take them off,” Fletcher said. “Otherwise I’m going to cut through them.”

Buck just sort of sighed and closed his eyes. Fletcher turned away from him to talk to the people who had gathered around.

“Usually, in emergency situations, you have to cut through the fabric,” they said. “So that’s what we’re going to do.”

Buck felt cold metal against his skin as the scissors brushed his leg.

“There will be times, in a pinch, where you may want to use drinking alcohol as a disinfectant,” Fletcher continued to the crowd. “I would not recommend this, for a few reasons. First of all, you should just keep actual medical supplies in your house, you animals. Second, if you pour alcohol over someone, that’s less for you to drink. However, sometimes needs must. If you are going to use alcohol this way, you should be decent enough to let your patient take a swig first, because this is all going to hurt like a bitch. In this case, our friend here is pretty out of it, so we’re going to skip that. Now, be prepared for them to scream…”

Buck suddenly felt a burning sensation in his leg. He screamed, back arching off the table and leg kicking out frantically. He felt a firm hand holding him down.

“Also, you should really only be using clear alcohols like vodka for this,” Fletcher continued nonchalantly as the screaming subsided into pained whimpers. “Now, to stitch a wound you’re going to want a curved needle, like this. If you try to use a regular sewing needle you will all be in for a bad time. Again, please for the love of god, keep medical supplies on hand. And keep them clean.”

Buck felt a hand patting against his cheek, and he tried to focus his eyes on the face of Fletcher, leaning over him.

“Alright, buddy,” they said gently, “I’m gonna give you something to bite down on. Okay? Open up.”

Fletcher put their fingers on either side of Buck’s chin and eased his jaw open. They slipped a folded belt between his teeth and pushed his jaw closed around the leather. Buck bit down, trying to breathe evenly through his nose. A sharp pain pierced the skin of his leg, overlapping with the already burning pain from the bullet wound. He let out a whine, clamping down on the belt. Although some part of him was aware that people were watching, embarrassment over the pathetic noises he was making was the last thing on his mind. He was just trying to get through this moment.

“Here’s a fun fact – a little bonus history lesson,” Fletch said as they worked. “In the civil war, they had advanced their weaponry but not really advanced the way they did battle, so all of a sudden there were way more injuries. And fatalities. And the bullets they were using – well, never mind. I could ramble. The point is, the field hospitals were just Hell. A lot of amputations. And they didn’t have any way to sedate the soldiers, so the medics would just give them a bullet to bite down on for the pain. And that’s where we get the phrase bite the bullet.  Now, you’ll see here that I am tying off each stitch. This is why it’s helpful to use a needle driver. You may be able to substitute needle nose pliers, or…”

“Keep medical supplies on hand,” came a disjointed chorus of voices.

Buck passed out at some point during the procedure.  He woke up in a bed, unsure of where he was. Even as the memories came back to him as he drifted into consciousness, he still wasn’t sure. It was a sparsely furnished room, with just the bed, a dresser, a chair, and a mirror. There was a window in the wall behind him, but the curtains were drawn. He was wearing an unfamiliar pair of sweatpants. 

Buck’s head ached. His leg ached. His whole body ached. He tried to gently shuffle into a sitting position, but as he moved he felt the unyielding tug of metal against his ankle.

His injured leg was handcuffed to the bed.

The door opened. Fletcher poked their head in.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” they said, walking all the way into the room. They were carrying a tray, which they set down on the dresser. Fletcher opened one of the drawers and retrieved a pillow. “Can you sit up?”

Buck, watching Fletcher warily, pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, and Fletcher put the pillow behind him. They retrieved the tray and set it on Buck’s lap before pulling the chair over to the side of the bed and sitting down.

Buck examined the contents of the tray. A water bottle, a small bottle of orange juice, a banana, a sleeve of crackers, a pudding cup, and a spoon. Buck looked up at Fletcher wordlessly.

“Well, eat up, champ,” Fletcher said, leaning forward to rest their forearms on their legs. A beat of silence where neither said anything. Then, “How’re you feeling?”

Buck opened his mouth and let out a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I feel like shit. Everything hurts.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Fletcher nodded. “You sustained a pretty serious injury.”

“Which you made worse,” Buck said.

“Hey, I – well, yeah. I did make you walk on it,” Fletcher admitted. “But you did great! And then I made it better.”

“You should have taken me to a hospital,” Buck said.

Fletcher just laughed and said, “Seriously, you should eat something. Drink some water.”

Buck cracked open the seal of the water bottle and took a swig. He paused a moment, and then asked, “Why do you have me chained to the bed?”

“Well, you really shouldn’t be walking on that leg for a while,” Fletcher said.

Buck stared at them in disbelief. Fetcher’s face cracked into a smile, and they shrugged, but said nothing.

“Why are you keeping me here?” Buck asked.

“You’re a great teaching tool,” Fletcher said before standing up. “And I believe you can take it.”

“Take what?” Buck asked, voice soaked in fear.

Fletcher began walking to the door, saying only, “Eat something.”

“What – what is this place?” Buck called after them. “What is going on here?”

Fletcher stopped in the doorway, handle on the knob ready to pull it closed behind them. They turned back.

“Well, Buck,” they said, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

[So! Before the American Civil War, soldiers were using muskets, which didn’t really shoot straight. Basically the musket ball would bounce around on its way out of the barrel of the gun. So the tactic was for both sides to line up and shoot at each other, creating a sort of wall of bullets, hoping something would hit. By the time the Civil War rolled around, guns had improved a lot. Namely rifles.

Rifles have grooves along the inside of the barrel (called rifling) that the bullet travels along, keeping it on target. The major improvement that made them the new main weapon of the military is that they didn’t have to be cleaned as frequently, whereas before they would get all gunked up on the inside if you used them too many times.

SO, the Civil War happens. Everyone lines up and shoots each other. But now they have guns that shoot straight. To this day, the Civil War has more American casualties than any other war this country has ever fought. It actually changed the game on the way this country handles death in more ways than one, but that’s a separate essay!

Another bad thing about this new-weapon-old-tactics thing, is that these guns shot “slugs,” or (relatively) slow moving bullets. The way these bullets were shaped, they wouldn’t always pierce straight through. If they hit bone, the bullet and the bone would both shatter. This led to many, many amputations. And, well, Fletcher said the rest.

Also please note that it’s been like six or seven years since I took that Civil War class.]

[next part]

[the-drakeboys]

Come Back to Me - Pt. 2

Summary: They just have to get out - they just have to get back to you. With guns pointed at their backs and Rafe up ahead, the Drake brothers will fight to make it out of the prison. 

But that’s easier said than done.

And back at the boat, where Rafe’s driver and Sully’s voice over the phone are all you have to distract you, the gnawing thought that things might’ve gone sideways just won’t leave you alone. 

Pairing: Sam Drake x Reader

Word Count: 2,891

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death and loss, suicidal thoughts. Here comes the angst, y’all.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the feedback on Pt. 1! It’s amazing to see that Sam’s still getting love after all this time. Let’s be honest, he really deserves it! And so do all of you, thank you so much. Hope you enjoy Pt. 2!

This is a (mini) series! You can find Part One here.

---

“Go, Nathan, go!” Sam’s voice sent chills down his brother’s spine as they both ran with everything they had, darting from corridors to walls to rooftops. “We have to catch up with Rafe!” 

Bullets were flying all around them, every guard in the prison after the brothers with guns in hand.

“I thought you said you trusted him!” Nate shouted back, vaulting over some piping and sliding his way to a gated crawlspace. 

“I do… to a point,” Sam admitted through his heavy breaths, helping Nate lift the gate. They just had to get to the boat - they just had to get back to you. Just before they were separated, Rafe was saying it wasn’t far, that they were getting closer; but the Drakes felt completely turned around. 

“What do we do?” Nate’s question was full of adrenaline; where do they go from here? 

“We’re almost there,” Sam lied, the memory of his promise to you echoing in the back of his head. “We just gotta keep movin’.” 

---

“I’m sure he’s fine, darlin’,” Sully chuckled over the phone. You sat at the back end of the boat, your med gear stuffed in its waterproof pack beside you and your knee bouncing absentmindedly. Over at the wheel, Rafe’s driver stood in muted silence as he had for the past three and a half hours, all of your attempts at conversation going absolutely nowhere. He was a joy to be around. 

“Of course he is,” you laughed, rolling your eyes, “Aren’t they always?” You relaxed back against the side of the boat, tipping a bottle of cool water to your lips and taking a hefty swig. Sully’s voice could be heard talking to someone on the other side, probably the pretty hotel bartender he’d been flirting with all afternoon, and you found yourself starting to think aloud. “I mean, it’s not like they are...literally constantly getting themselves into trouble, getting beat up, getting shot at…” 

Your gaze flitted back to the cliffside just north of where your boat sat floating over gentle waves, knowing that the erratic beat of your anxious heart would refuse to settle until you saw them sliding out of the jungle and down into the ocean below. “Shit, Sully. What is it about those two that makes me worry so much?” 

Victor sighed on the other end of the phone, and you could hear him puffing on his latest cigar. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, kiddo, I don’t think it’s the two of them that’s got you feelin’ so out of sorts. I know you love Nate and all, but you and Sam… You two have been attached at the hip for years now.”

You cleared your throat, reaching up with your free hand to rub at your aching temple. “Can’t argue with you there… This is the first gig since Moscow I haven’t been with them on.” Over by the steering wheel, Rafe’s driver - Josh, you thought it was - wiped at some sweat above his brow. He looked awfully uncomfortable. As you listened to Sully, you reached into the cooler to your left and tugged a fresh bottle of water from the ice. 

“For Christ’s sake, I’m not talkin’ about the work, y/n/n,” Sully muttered. You waved over at Josh, motioning with the water bottle to toss it over to him. Though you’d managed to get his attention, he stoically refused the water, giving you a curt nod instead.

You rolled your eyes and stood. “Well then what the hell are you talkin’ about, Victor?” Still focused on Sully’s words, you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder and walked up to Josh. 

“You didn’t have to-” he started to protest.

“Oh, just take it,” you insisted, a kind smile on your face as he tilted his head in gratitude and finally accepted the water. 

He tipped the bottle to you. “Thanks.” 

“I’m talkin’ about you two bein’ about as close to church bells as I’ve ever seen a treasure hunter get,” Sully retorted.

You let out a blurted laugh and shook your head, mouthing ‘don’t mention it’ to Josh and heading back to your seat. “Gettin’ a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” You lifted a hand to block the sun from your eyes, feeling droplets of water splash your shoulder as a large wave broke against the side of the boat. “Besides, Sam and I aren’t the ‘settle down’ types. There’s too much adventure out there, you know that.” 

You could see him in your head, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigar as he sat forward at the bar, shaded by the roof of the hotel cabana and surrounded by tourists. And you knew that even with the confidence and certainty in your voice, he saw right through your words. Sam was all that mattered to you, and it was painfully evident that the adventures that’d once been everything now came second to Samuel Morgan. 

“Maybe so,” he started, “But some things-” 

His voice was drowned out then by a sound you’d been afraid of since you stepped on the boat - a barrage of gunfire coming straight from the prison. You were on your feet in a split second, Josh not far behind you.

“Oh shit,” you cut him off. “Sully, I fuckin’ told you.”

Sully’s voice changed, knowing in that instant that the job had gone wrong. “What is it? What’s going on?” 

---

“There it is!” Nate shouted, following Rafe from roof to roof, each jump more exhausting than the last. Sam kept up the rear, watching his brother’s back as they fought to get back to the boat. 

“Alright, keep going, I’m right behind you!” Sam pushed, launching himself forward and barely catching onto the rusted bars outside a window. Fuck, he thought to himself as another three guards came running around a corner. Just a little further. C’mon. He grunted as he tugged himself up the side of the building, eyes on Nathan just ahead - he was still good. Still running.

“On me!” Rafe barked, “Get to the wall, NOW!” 

“Sam!” Nate yelled back over his shoulder, not feeling his brother nearly as close as he needed to.

Don’t worry about me, Nathan, Sam thought, making another jump just behind him. “Just keep going! Go!” 

Nate could see the edge now, the treetops and greenery of the jungle just ahead. He just needed to make one more jump - one last rooftop to cross. With an enormous leap and an “ah, hell!” for good measure, the younger Drake made it, barely catching onto a pipe and feeling one side of it give underneath him. 

Loud shouts from guards closing in could be heard behind them as Nate struggled to pull himself up, finally crawling over the edge to see Rafe taking cover with a gun in hand. 

He turned, and there Sam was, waiting on the other building - pinned down against a barrier. “Sam!” Nate reached his arm out. “C’mon! I’ll pull you up!” 

Sam saw his baby brother there, arm outstretched, waiting to run with him into the jungle where a few hundred feet of trees and mud and rock was all that separated him from the boat, from escaping the guards and the guns and this godawful prison and finally getting back to you. 

Without giving himself time to overthink it, he made a break for it, legs pushing him off the edge and arms swinging wildly as he flew through the air. “I gotcha!” Nate shouted in relief, his hand catching Sam tightly around the wrist. “C’mon!” 

With all his strength, he pulled, his brother grabbing onto the edge of the roof. 

Tak, tak, tak.

Bullets shattered against the metal siding, all around Sam, and Nate was desperate to pull his brother from the line of fire. Tugging on his arm, trying to lift. 

But he wasn’t moving. He was silent. Just staring up at Nathan, not making a sound. In all the guards’ shouting and the wailing of the alarm, the gunfire and Rafe’s berating from over Nate’s shoulder, somehow everything had gone incredibly quiet. 

Sam hung there, on the side of the building, and he knew. In that moment. 

He was going to break his promise to you. 

“Sam -- no,” Nate blurted, his heart sinking and stomach turning as blood spurted from his older brother’s lips. “No, you hold on!” He couldn’t hold on. God knows he was trying to. But he couldn’t. 

He fell, hanging by Nate’s iron grasp on his wrist, and he looked up at his brother, fighting to stay awake. He just wanted to say something - anything, to let him know it was gonna be okay. “Sam!” Nate was desperate. His other hand reached down, begging him to fight, to just be able to get up and over that ledge. “Gimme your other arm!” 

But Sam’s head dropped. He felt the air draining out of his lungs, could feel the breeze against the blood soaking through his shirt. He saw your face smiling down at him. Heard your laughter fill a room. Felt your fingers in his hair. 

His eyes closed. “C’mon, reach!” his little brother pleaded. Nate’s grip was slipping. “No!”

Nate’s grip… slipped.

He lost him then, watched him fall, cascading down and down, his body crashing through an old metal awning. He disappeared into the darkness below. He was gone.

“Sam!” Nate’s scream echoed through the prison. 

Bullets raining down over him forced him back from the ledge, cowering as tears burned their way down his cheeks. Rafe reappeared then, grabbing at Nate’s shoulder as if there was nothing they could do. 

“We gotta move,” he urged. 

“No, no, he’s still down there,” Nate bumbled, his entire body shaken, eyes glassy. 

“No, he’s gone. C’mon, the boat’s just beyond the wall.” Nate just turned, looking to where his brother had been just thirty seconds before. 

“No… No, I can’t.” He was gonna throw up. His stomach was in his throat. Sam. Sam couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t. “I can’t -- I can’t leave him behind.” 

“Nate!” Rafe’s voice was sharp, “Your brother is dead.” The words struck him, deep in his core. “Either come with me or join him.” 

---

You stood at the back of the boat, staring intently at the edge of the jungle. All you needed was to see the three of them leap down into the water, and you’d be fine. 

“How long’s the flight from Mexico City?” you spoke into the phone, turning to Josh and pointing over at the landing point. “Get us around this bend, as close as you can.” 

“Hang on to somethin’,” Josh shot back, taking the wheel. 

“Goddamnit, kid, I don’t know. Maybe three, three and a half hours.” He was out of breath, he was on the move. “Need a ride outta there?” 

You eyed the open ocean ahead of you, knowing that once the boys made it, it’d be thirty minutes of travel across the water to the rendezvous point. The chances of making that distance with the cops on your tail weren’t good. 

“Maybe - hopefully not, but I’m hearin’ fireworks like the fourth of July up there.” Not only was there endless gunfire, but the impossibly loud sirens in the distance told you that every guard in the entire prison was after the boys - and they weren’t messing around. “If we can’t run, we’re gonna have to hide until you can swing through. I promise I’ll get you back for this.” 

Josh pulled the boat as close to the cliffside as he could while leaving room for them to land. You both watched the cliff’s edge, vigilant and ready. Your hand rested on the gun at your hip, comforted by its presence there. 

“Don’t you worry about that, darlin’. Just get outta there quick as you can, I’m grabbin’ my things now and I’ll be on the plane in twenty.” 

You cleared your throat, that familiar terror thumping in your chest as your mind painted in vibrant colors every nightmare scenario that could be laid out in front of you. “Sounds good. I’ve got the sat phone with me, so if you can’t get me on this...” 

“I know where to reach you. Got it.” 

“Thanks, Sully. I’ll uhh…” You could feel the nerves bubbling up into your shaken voice. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Let’s hope it’s just for beers and laughs, eh?” he quipped. You managed a chuckle, and he did the same, signing off and ending the call. 

“Think we’ll be followed?” Josh questioned, one hand on the steering wheel and the other shielding his eyes as he looked up. 

“Let’s hope not,” you sighed, sending a nervous smile his way. Worry flashed over his face, though he hid it well. “But I trust you, I think you’ll get us out of here just fine.” 

“You’ll hold me to that, right?” he said with a grin. 

You opened your mouth to offer a retort, when finally - your prayers were answered. Relief washed over you as rocks tumbled down into the sea, Rafe’s flailing form following them closely. They made it. “Thank god,” you breathed, hurrying forward to lean over the edge of the boat and give him a hand. 

As he swam over to you, a revolver in his hand, your eyes moved back up to see what looked like Nate plummeting through the air and crash landing just behind Rafe. “Come on up,” you chuckled, anxiety travelling through you as Josh helped you lift the sopping wet money-man into the boat. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rafe staggered forward, propping himself up by the controls. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

“Hang on,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Give ‘em a minute, will you?” 

Nate was barely swimming. He felt like he couldn’t move. His whole body was numb and in horrible pain all at once. A black hole had formed in his chest, and as he slowly drifted toward you, he wished he’d stayed back - he wished he’d died there with his brother. 

“Nate!” you laughed, “Some time today, we’ve still got cops to contend with, you know.” The relief on your face killed him inside. He reached up, weakly taking your hand and letting both you and Josh pull him onto the safety of the small boat. 

“Alright, c’mon, Sam,” you thought aloud, eyes back on the edge of the jungle, fingers tapping impatiently on your gun and a soft smile on your face as you thought about drinkin’ mojitos and dancin’ in the sunset.

“Let’s go,” Rafe’s voice ordered. 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. Josh stood in silence for a moment, looking between you.

Rafe ignored you, pointing him to the wheel. “Now! Before they have a chance to follow us.” Josh slunked his way to the wheel and shifted the boat into drive, his head hung low. 

You made a mental note to kick the living shit out of Rafe once this was all over. “Just fucking hold on! He’ll make it. Give him another minute.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, he’s not coming! He’s dead!” he bellowed, his face red and eyes ablaze. 

“You don’t know that!” You marched toward him, fists balled up at your sides, about ready to break his jaw.

With his eyes burning into you, he gave one final order to the man behind him. “Hit the goddamn gas and get us out of this shithole!”  The boat rocketed away from the cliffside, Josh at the helm and looking full to the brim with shame. 

You lurched forward, “What the fuck are you doing?! Are you out of your mind?!” Your hands grabbing at the wheel, the controls, your disbelief overwhelming you.

“Back off!” Rafe shoved you back by your shoulders, knocking you on your ass. You felt the boat halt in the water, and watched as Josh yanked Rafe back from you. “Get the fuck off me!” With one quick movement, Rafe smashed the butt of his gun into Josh’s face, causing him to stumble back against the side of the boat. 

“Fuck!” Josh spurted, holding his nose.

“You piece of shit! You’re crazy! We are not leaving him!” You turned to face the younger Drake, clambering back to your feet and gesturing wildly at Rafe, “Nate, are you hearing this?!” A beat. “Nate?!” You had to go back, you had to get back as fast as possible, he was probably treading water at that very moment, shouting for you to turn back. You just needed… to...

...wait.

Your eyes landed on him. On Nate. 

Nate, crumpled up in a ball, soaked to the bone and trembling like a leaf, hands hovering over his face and skin paler than you’d ever seen as he sat huddled in the corner. 

Nate, who’d stayed silent, no quips, no jokes, no ‘that was a close one’s. 

Nate… who couldn’t look you in the eye.

You chanced a few steps closer, but your body suddenly felt numb.

“Nate?” you asked in confusion, your head turning to look back up at the cliffside. The quiet there was deafening. The gunfire had stopped. Why was there no gunfire? 

Nathan felt you grasping at straws. He wanted to be swallowed whole. He wanted to disappear.

“Nate…” Your lungs burned. “Wh-Where… Where is he?” 

---

Previous Chapter  I  Next Chapter

Tags: 

@s4mdrake @landoverthemountains @supernaturally-avenging-hannibal @cassieseraphim

Shoot me an ask, message, or reply if you’d like to be tagged in this series!  Thanks so much for reading!

[bird-in-a-cage]

@hotdadlicense, part two of your ask!

#45 “Lets get wasted and then go piss on his grave.”

Release

Hawkins had exactly two bars; the bar out east and the bar our west. The bar out east was called Dixies’, it was definitely the rowdier of the two, notoriously known for not carding so it was wildly popular with college kids returning home for the holidays desperate to escape the crushing boredom of family life, and old enough looking high school kids. The cops tended to leave it alone, maybe raiding once or twice a year but always with a few hours notice. As far as law enforcement was concerned if these kids were in a building drinking they weren’t doing it on the street, so less work for them and the community. For the greater good and all that crap. 

The bar out west was called The Tavern. It was a little more old school. The wall behind the bar was lined with whiskey and bourbon bottles rather than tequila and different flavoured sambucas. It had an older clientele. Steve liked working there, whenever he came back from college for the holidays and wanted to pick up a few shifts here and there to help save money to move to Chicago permanently. He didn’t like drinking there though, the air was too smokey and there wasn’t a good looking person in sight, but in many ways they helped. Dixies’ was for fun. The Tavern was for work. Regulars seemed to like him too, only if they could ask about his father and what the old man was up to now, trying to rub elbows for a potential business deal or to get an invite to the Christmas party up at the cabin. Steve was more than used to it, played along just enough to bump his tips.

They didn’t need to know he hadn’t spoken to either of his parents in a good six months, and that his father was busy cosying up to some woman younger than Steve in Milan or that his mother was getting trashed daily in the Bahamas, making eyes at pool boys. Frankly Steve didn’t need to know that either, why they didn’t just divorce years back he never understood. But then, he never really understood his parents on any level.

So, whenever he would come back to the holidays it was purely to make money. He had an empty house to live in and didn’t have to pay a dime for apart from to put food in the fridge. He would rather stay in Chicago though. He liked his life up there. It was so different from being stuck in small town America where nothing exciting happened. The most exciting thing that had happened since he’d been away from January was a new stop sign getting erected by the elementary school. Chicago was alive. He had friends there. Friends he could sometimes make out with. Friends who actually wanted to be around him by choice and not by circumstance, something which he’d learned the difference pretty quickly after leaving the first time.

There wasn’t really anyone around from the old days. Nancy had moved to DC to pursue political journalism. Jonathan had found his way to Seattle, a place which by all handed down stories suited him perfectly. Even Tommy and Carol had gone. The rumor was they’d had a bit of a shotgun wedding after a pregnancy scare and skipped town to New Mexico to go stay with Tommy’s grandma.

Steve couldn’t imagine how fun that was.

He was tending the bar alone. Thursday night, so not exactly a hive of activity. His regulars had come and gone. Mr Jones was propping up the end of the bar, barely awake, not from drink just because he was old now and he just fell asleep sometimes. Things in Hawkins never changed. The entrance was pushed open, and in staggered a face Steve hadn’t seen in years, one he was certain had skipped town by now.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

The last time they’d seen each other was before Steve had left for college. They’d maybe fooled around once or twice that summer but it wasn’t anything serious. Turns out they were only beating the crap out of each other in high school because of some weird sexual tension that would spill over and become beat downs in the parking lot. Outside of the hallways, away from prying eyes, with a chance to actually use their words, they kind of got on. Even if Billy was still kind of a pushy asshole.

Billy didn’t look great though, decidedly drunk as he made his way over to the bar, dressed completely in black. Pants, shoes, belt, his old leather jacket and a plain shirt which he was making quick work of undoing a couple of the top buttons of. His hair was cut short, but not too short, and he’d gotten another piercing in the same ear as his signature hoop. But aside from that, he looked just the same. It was a real blast from the past.

“Whiskey please,” he muttered, rummaging around in his pocket for his wallet. He hadn’t noticed who was behind the bar yet.

“You know, legally, I’m not allowed to serve you if you’re already drunk,” Steve said with a smile, trying to be as kind as possible. He didn’t know what Billy was like now. He could still have that wicked hair trigger for all Steve knew. And he really didn’t want to have to deal with glass getting thrown around. It was a nightmare to clean up. Billy’s head popped up from his lap at the sound of Steve’s voice. His blue eyes were glassy. Like marbles. Just as loose too. He grinned and let on the bar. He was definitely using it for support.

“Stevie!” He slurred around his tongue. Yup, wasted. “What are you doin’ here? Nevermind, whiskey please ol’ friend. For me and everyone here! ‘Cause why the fuck not huh?” Billy slapped a dollar bill on the bar and fought with his jacket to rip it off. There was a light dusting of a boot mark on the side of his shirt, just above his hip. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“You got kicked out of Dixies’, didn’t you?”

“Mayybee,” Billy giggled, before staring right at Steve, waiting for his drink. “And the liquor store closed already so you’re my only hope ol’ friend, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal of mine!”

Steve sighed and checked the time on his watch, there was still an hour before he could close up. There was no way he was going to ply Billy with more alcohol, so he gave him a glass of water instead, which received a very annoyed look in return. “Drink that first then maybe.”

Billy muttered something dark under his breath but wasn’t so far gone he was going to start a fight. He grabbed the glass roughly and took a sip. His ring hit off the rim and echoed dull. “What you doin’ here anyway? Thought you’d escaped this shithole.”

Before Steve left they’d spoken about escaping this town. Billy was more desperate for it than Steve was. He had dreams of going back to California, staying near the coast, surfing everyday, maybe going to study mechanical engineering, something practical he could do with his hands. By the looks of it they were still just dreams. The story he’d heard from Dustin one time was, before the conversation was quickly changed, was his whole home life had gone to even more shit than it already was. Billy’s stepmom got sick so couldn’t work, his dad jumped back on the wagon with abandon so didn’t work, leaving Billy to make sure Max got through high school and all the bills were paid at the end of every month single handed.

“He’s still a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick anymore. Anyway, how’s the pizza there? Is it awesome?!”

“I come back sometimes,” Steve answered. Billy’s body rolled like a chuckle but no noise came out. “What’s with the look? You ditch the metal and go goth?”

“It was my dad’s funeral today.”

Well, if that didn’t just suck the fun out of everything.

“Shit. Shit man, I’m sorry. I was just having a joke-”

“No no it's okay,” Billy interrupted, smiling again like he hadn’t just dropped a complete bombshell into the middle of their stilted conversation. “I’m not commiseratin’. I’m celebratin’! The old cunt’s heart finally popped. Surprised they fuckin’ found one instead of a black hole…”

Billy drank his water back in one like it was hard liquor. It didn’t look like he was celebrating. Steve refilled the glass quietly.

“How is...everyone?” Steve asked. Because that’s what you did when things like this come up. Least that’s what he had done with funerals in the past. Extending empathy.

Billy shrugged. “Everyone’s fine. Happy to be rid of him.” He ran this thumb around the edge of the glass. It didn’t make a noise. “When’d you getoff?”

Steve felt himself get a little hot under the collar. A long time had passed since that summer, but the memories of it sometimes still remained. Echoes of it all would sometimes dance over his skin if someone he was hooking up with touched him certain ways, or kissed certain spots. As much as they’d hated each other in high school, it had made for some pretty fun make up sex. But no, Billy was far too gone for any of that. And Steve wasn’t about to start being that guy, hanging around his childhood home and hooking up with old flames because there was nothing better to do other than watch the corn grow. “About an hour. Why?”

Billy felt around in his pockets for what felt like an age before tossing his keys behind the bar into the corner. They landed with a metallic clatter against the floor. “I shouldn’t drive. Can you take me somewhere?”

“Bill-”

“Please?” For a moment Billy actually looked vulnerable. Steve had never seen that before. It didn’t suit him. Not in the slightest. “I’m a fuckin’ orphan now man just, please? Then I’ll leave you alone. And you can escape again. Just one place.”   

There was that too. Steve had learnt through Dustin, who’d learnt through Will, who’d gotten it off Jane, who’d gotten it from Max herself, that Billy’s mom died when he was a kid. Apparently it was rough, but he never talked about it. Just wore it around his neck like a constant weight, let it wear him down and let the sadness feed the anger. Two snakes chasing each other’s tails. And Max wasn’t around back then to have seen it. It was all second hand stories heard through her stepfather. God only knew how much of a reliable narrator he was. 

Steve really didn’t want to be a babysitter again, he’d left those days in the past even if Dustin still sent him a mother’s day card for a joke. He really didn’t want to have to babysit a drunk, emotionally unstable adult. But he couldn’t exactly leave Billy to his own devices. Not when he was like this. God only knew what he was capable of anymore.

“One place?” He reiterated, just to make sure. Billy’s glassy eyes lit up as much as they could.

“Just one. That’s all. I promise.”

“Fine,” Steve said, going for sounding annoyed by it all, but he probably just came off as normal. Taking care of other people. That’s what he did best. Even at college he was Dorm Mom, leaving out glasses of water and snacks and advil. It was something that was never going to leave him. Maybe he just had to accept that. Billy smiled, probably about as close to warm as he could manage and leant down to scoop his jacket off the floor.

“I’ll get you outside. Yous still drive that shitty beamer right?”

He was staggering away before Steve even had time to answer. His quiet night plans of just going to sleep were in tatters.

-

Billy was sitting on the ground when Steve finished and had locked up for the night, clearly not giving a damn about the dry dirt he was getting over his pants, or all up the side of Steve’s car where he was leaning, swigging from a small half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Steve couldn’t even pretend to not be annoyed. It was late, he’d been on his feet for six hours, and he wanted to go home and eat something. Not be taken on a drunken adventure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, walking over to his car to open it up and get them both inside. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Billy scrambled to his feet without help but just creating a little cloud of dust.

“I had it’in my pocket the whoooole time. Don’t tell the barman. He might get mad at me.”

“Might huh?” God this was going to be a long night. It was already a long night. Steve got into the driver’s side, Billy sprawled himself into the passenger seat, somehow worse than before. He just had to keep reminding himself that Billy had a rough day. The roughest of rough days whether he would ever admit it or not. “So, where am I driving you too?”

“The church.” Billy took another swig and Steve wanted to just bat that bottle out of his hands already, but he didn’t want the car he used barely three months out of the year to stink of bourbon the next time he got in it and be reminded of all this.

“The church? There’s four churches in this town, you’re gonna have to help me out more on that one.”

Two bars. Four churches. Welcome to the midwest.

“The one with the tree...” Billy slowly spread his arms out to imitate branches, tilting his head to make the shape in his mind.

Steve wound his hand tight around the steering wheel, still trying to give the benefit of the doubt but this was already driving him crazy. “Yeah, no, still gonna have to work a little harder helping me out here man. I’m not a mind reader.”

BIlly sighed dramatic and loud, ripping a flyer from an inner jacket pocket and thrusting it under Steve’s nose for him to take. Neil Hargrove’s funeral flyer. Oh. Oh god they were going to do this? There was no way Steve wanted to sit in his car and listen to Billy cry or whatever while staring at a fresh grave. He signed on for a ride home, maybe once through the drive thru to sober the guy up, not get strapped into the emotional rollercoaster that was maybe about to start.

But they were both here. And Billy had just finished the bottle and tossed it out the door to smash to pieces in a far off part of the parking lot hidden by darkness. Steve couldn’t kick him out now. Nothing about who he was as a person would let him. He still sighed annoyed about the whole thing though, and started the engine, driving off to the edge of town where this church was. Billy was relatively quiet on the drive, staring out the window at passing street lights, warm yellow dots reflecting in his eyes. Steve wanted to make conversation, maybe ask how it had been, what he’d been up to, what his plans were now Max was getting close to graduating, but it didn’t seem right to do so. How do you really flow into a conversation about how you’ve been stuck in a place you despise for longer than you ever wanted to be, and you’re now an orphan to boot. Even though Steve never saw his parents, a fact he was more than used to since he turned thirteen, he still couldn’t imagine them dying. Just being left alone forever. They called a few times a year. They were horrible people but they were still his parents. It was something Steve didn’t want to think about too hard. 

Billy still had enough common courtesy left to roll the window down a crack before lighting up a cigarette though. So there was that at least.

The church was quiet and dark. As it should be past midnight. Steve parked up out front and followed Billy’s staggering steps as he suddenly knew exactly where he was going and went with drunken determination. At least Steve hoped that he knew where he was going. He stayed a couple paces behind, had brought a flashlight just in case Billy stumbled or anything and needed to be picked up out of the headstones before someone called the police on them trespassing. Steve didn’t need that on his record, and he dreaded to think how long Billy’s must be by now.

Even in the dark Neil Hargrove’s stone looked brand new. It was light grey granite. Didn’t have a lot of words etched into it. Just his name, the dates of his life, and the words ‘son, father, husband’. Steve flashed his light over it, watched Billy stand to attention and lean over the fresh dirt, a leg keeping him stable on either side of it, body close to the stone. He laughed darkly and spat venom at the letters.

“You fuckin’ deserve this. Fuckin’ cunt.”

For what felt like slow, painful hours there were only the sounds of Billy’s heavy laboured breaths, little metallic echoes of a belt and zipper being undone, then the ungodly splash of piss, quickly evolving into an endless stream that just kept coming and coming. Steve was frozen to the spot he picked a few feet back. He wanted to at least not illuminate the for sure crime he was witness to now, but no part of him could move. Just in shock. Steve had joked about stuff like this sure, but do actually do it? Billy laughed as it just kept coming, cackling and howling in delight to no one but himself.

Like he’d been waiting his whole life to unload like this.

Eventually the stream came to an end, he audibly tucked himself away and spat again, before either the drink or the emotion of the day finally got too much, and he collapsed flat on his back in the grass. Probably where he’d stood earlier in the daylight to check his father was really dead. That seemed like a Billy thing to do. Steve waited a few beats before stepping closer, making sure not to shine the light directly into his glassy marbles and more aim it towards his heaving chest.

“Feel better?” was all he could come up with to say. What’s even normal to say after watching someone piss on their own father’s grave, no matter how much you hate them? Billy grinned wide, his lips reaching to his ears almost, and laughed. He sounded free.

“I’ve been waitin’ to do that alllll day!”

“You don’t say,” Steve couldn’t help but smile, and bent over to help Billy up from his sprawled state. He was quite the lump to move but was soon on his feet with his arm slung over Steve’s shoulder and moving without needing pulled. Steve held onto his waist to keep him upright and in a straight line. He smelt horrific.

“Can we get pizza? Really want pizza.” Billy slurred as his head found its way onto Steve’s shoulder easily, like all the fight and hate and decades of built up resentment and anger had literally just been pissed away. 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah man. We can get pizza.”

[aroseyetbloomedwrites]

Maddox - A Scene in Character Analysis

    “Wait! That’s my boat, someone help!”

    Sure enough, there was a wooden carrier drifting far out of range, trailing ties and ropes in it’s gentle wake. From the pier, a lalafell shaking and pointing and pulling at his hair as he watched it. There were crates still piled on the raft, likely one of the large ships docked far out of port could scoop it up and return the goods but that could take half the day. 

     Not to mention, how damn daft did the hands have to be to tie it so shoddy that it runs away?

    Maddox pulls his axe free with a sigh, lets a sharp end embed in the deck and sends the lalafell fulms into the air, startled at the sound while he hits the water. There probably was time to at least unfasten his sabatons, but the metal, while sturdy, blessedly light-and he, absurdly strong. The weight of his coat proved more hindrance than the pauldron at his shoulders or metal on his feet and fingers. But, as he twisted wet rope around his arm in layers, grateful for the protection as he heaved backwards on the rope (and knows it would have cut into his skin otherwise), purposeful in his one arm stroke, and power behind every kick of his leg, nearly beats his head against the wood of the dock as the momentum brings he and the raft back to it for all his focus had been so bent upon swimming. 

     Breathing heavily, exerted and muscles certainly aching, manages to heave himself back onto the deck with mostly sturdy legs. Water darkens the brown leather of his coat, and his white scarf is limp against his chest. Water streams in unrestrained rivulets from the joints of his sabatons and arm guards. The muscle of his arm holding the ties strains to keep the raft moored along the dock. The knot he ties to the cleat is sure, secure and somewhat ungiving. Maddox gives the line a tug to test its hold, sighs and then stands while giving his shoulder a good flex and several rolls to loosen the muscle back up. Then, turns the bright ember of his eyes on one gawking merchant running from stern to bow to account for the wares. He even pulls off a sack to check for water damage, and a small crate to inspect too. All while Maddox stands there, staring down his nose at him, expectant as he rings out his scarf and dries under the Limsan sun. 

     The merchant begins to twitch where he stands before he can take it no more and turns around, arms held out and leaning back against his crate. Maddox does not move, more or less, puts his hips on his hands and quirks a brow.

     “A-ah yes! I suppose you’d be expecting something…”

     “It’s not every day you have someone jump into the ocean for you to save some of your livelihood, since well, whoever you sailed with couldn’t do the job proper like.”

     The merchant wipes sweat from his forehead, looks around to see the crowd that had gathered only to watch were dispersing with the excitement concluded; no more giants flailing in the water, hauling rafts like a breathing freighter. He begins to pat down his colorful tunic, feels the belt at his sides and comes back empty handed. Maddox gives him a lip curled snarl for his efforts.

     “Ah! Wait! I have an idea!” The merchant jumps to it, gesturing at the box he had pulled off the raft. Ducking around so he wouldn’t have to look at a glowering face marked by one sharp object or another, a man who knew the other end of a weapon well enough… 

     The merchant's back was turned to him as he shuffled through some belongings, more or less just prying open a crate.

    “I noticed you were dressed mighty fine.”

    No doubt, wanting to weasel out of payment. 

    “Aye,” Maddox intones, his bemusement becoming apparent then, “off the back of the last bloke what tried and shortchange me, my good man.” 

    The lalafell jumps, turns about fast and holds up his hands… was that panicked flailing supposed to put him at ease��? 

    “Hear, hear, I am not trying to get off scott free. You see, I was just woefully unprepared for any… incidents…”

    Maddox rolls his eyes, the shining metal of his gauntlets cross over his broad chest. An ul’dahn without a coin purse? Not likely. The cloth he wore was nice, though, not the nicest he’s ever seen a rich man wear. Finger’s decked out in half the gems he’s seen a syndicate thug wear. Up and coming? Maybe he wasn’t lying, but that wasn’t his problem. A service was provided, and he would be compensated. though...he was interested though in whatever the guy was peddling in padded crates. It wasn’t the first time he’d done a deed for goods instead of gil, not his favorite but he wasn’t about to press a civilian in broad daylight. 

    Turns out to be a bottle of alcohol. That gets a frown, because the worth of liquor is questionable at best. However this bottle has thick glass, metallic foil around the bottle head and cork shimmers in the light, firm and tight. The label is illegible for sprawling cursive he never had the chance to learn, ah but wasn’t that gold-leaf lettering rather pretty? Not to mention, the shit-eating grin on the lalafell, like this was something to be proud of, like it might be something of his pride, and joy? 

    The bottle is smaller in his hand compared to how it looked when held in both of the lalafells.

    “Better’n any wine you’ve ever had, if you’ve ever had any, I’d say!” 

    Maddox turns the bottle this way, and that-lets the sun catch the gold lines as he admires it. 

    “I’d say you’re right, little man.” 

     And then, completely lacking decorum, flips the bottle into the air, catches it low on the neck in his hand while the lalafell panics and darts forward beneath it as if to catch it. Upon seeing it safe, keels over and groans, little hand over his heart-no doubt pounding like a fish out of water. Maddox grins wide then, sharp toothed and crooked. No, the wine had a price tag to it if that reaction gave him any clue. He holds the bottle upside down by the neck, taps the butt of it against his temple in thought while the merchant twitches and grimaces far below.

     “Aye, aye…’ he chuckles, the sound but a deep rumble as he shakes his head, ‘I’ll accept it this time. You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

     When Maddox leaves the merchant where he stands on the marina dock, he can tell the man is relieved. Nothing but a towering wall of muscle, metal, and leather straps-an axe half the size of his own body giving his shoulders not a single dip. Jumping the dock and hauling a drifting carrier raft back to post. Nay, the guy knew he’d scraped by being cheeky, but when Maddox rolls the bottle in his hands, metal lined fingers singing against the crystal… He knows it isn’t so bad a trade at all. 

     ‘I’ve already paid my board for the week anyways…’

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together Ch 5

ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/56421904

Chapter Summary:

The shadowy memory from before surfaces behind his eyes once more and the itching in his brain multiplies ten fold.

The darkness. The fear. The water. That blasted sound.

But he can’t remember.

“I can’t place it,” Twilight says again, feeling helpless. “But I know whatever it is, it isn't good.”

Or: A series of fics centered on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

His heart is pounding.

He can feel his pulse all throughout his body, slamming away in his wrists, pulsing in his throat.

The poor muscle in his chest beats at a rabbit’s pace, its frantic thud thud thud crashing rhythmically into his ribs. Blood roars in his ears, blocking out anything and everything else except for the staccato feedback of his own arteries.

His body feels alive, hair standing on end, fingers shaking as they minutely clench and unclench, his eyes wide, taking in every detail.

The thrill of the hunt.  

Yet, despite the coiling of his muscles and the racing of his heart, Twilight’s breaths are slow and controlled. Each lungful is carefully measured, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

Silent. He needs to be silent, lest his quarry detect him.

He takes an excruciatingly slow step forward, his knee almost creaking with the effort of remaining still. Slowly, ever so slowly, he places his foot on the ground before gradually leaning weight onto it.

The dry grass crunches quietly beneath his boot. His prey doesn't seem to notice. Perfect.

Keeping his eyes on the target, Twilight lowers himself into position–one leg braced behind, the other in front– ready to pounce.

His hands feel clammy, but he doesn't dare move to wipe the perspiration away on his tunic or pants.

Gray-blue eyes flick back and forth between booted feet and the prize, calculations running through the farmhand’s head. Distance, power,but not too much power, reaction time; all of it needs to be accounted for.

He’s only got one shot at this.

A controlled breath. Another. And another.

The wind shifts directions, making the speed of Twilight’s heart ratchet up even faster.

It’s now or never.

So, heart singing, thoughts racing, and blood turning icy in his stomach, the Hero of Twilight lunges forward.

He lands hard on his elbows and stomach, his leather arm guards clacking unhappily against the ground as his full weight bears down on the light armor. The air in his lungs wheezes out from between his lips at the force of the fall and he can feel mud seeping into the stomach of his tunic. Painful tingles race up one of his arms; he must have hit his funny bone.

But he doesn't let any of that phase him, a triumphant grin spreading over his face

Extended out in front of his head, his arms lay outstretched in the mud. A faint glowing light seeps from between his lightly clasped fingers. A slight tingling sensation tickles against his palm as a too small body scuttles around, confirming his catch.

Gotcha!

“Are you done making a fool of yourself over there?” calls a flat voice. Mocking. Legend.

Twilight ignores him, the joy of having finally caught the sparkling bug too warm in his chest for someone to rain on that easily.

Carefully, using his elbows, Twilight slowly levers himself onto his knees and then leans back onto his feet, bug still held safely within softly cupped hands. He turns back to the others, a grin on his face.

A little ways back, Wild and Wind erupt into whoops of success at Twilight’s catch.

Wind had been the one to spot the little insect, and though Twilight had insisted that the two of them stay back while he caught it–even with the Sheikah Armor on and Wind’s supposed stealth experience, the two together were incapable of sneaking up on a deaf bat–they were very excited about the positive result.

Past the two celebrating blondes, resting in the shade of a large, oak tree, Legend and Warriors look on in unimpressed silence and mild interest respectively.

Behind them, Sky is leaned up against the side of the oak, head thrown back against the bark  in the throes of a much needed midday nap. Next to the Chosen Hero, Time is in a similar state, legs stretched out, arms crossed, and chin to chest, breathing slowly.

He had said he was just going to ‘rest his eyes’ but Twilight knew that was old man speak for taking a quick five minute nap. Rusl always said the same thing after a good hunt, settling down on the couch one second, and out like a light the next.

Typical.

Beside the two napping heroes, Four and Hyrule sit together, the former with his nose in a book while the latter sits straight spined, eyes closed. Meditating, Hyrule had called it.

“Wild,” Twilight calls, striding back toward the shade of the tree, toward the other heroes.  “Can you grab the cloth covered bottle from my bag?”

The teen nods, quickly scurrying to the leather satchel, rustling through it for a moment, before making a soft sound of success as he pulls the glass bottle out of its confines. Container in hand, the scarred hero hurries back over, unscrewing the metal clasp as he walks and removing the hole punched cloth top as he holds the bottle under Twilight’s still cupped hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, Twilight sees Wind edge closer to the two of them, peering into the bottle as the older hero carefully opens up his fingers, allowing his prize to drop into the leaf filled glass. Then, as soon as he’s sure the creature is safely within, the farmhand pulls the cloth back over the lid and screws the metal band back into place.

He takes the bottle from Wild’s hand, careful not to jostle it too much, and holds it in a single palm, letting the two teens look into the container without any obstructions.

Within, a golden grasshopper sits, using one extremely long leg to swipe at its antennae, a faint orange-ish pink glow emanating from it’s tiny body.

“Cool!” Wind breathes, big round eyes glinting in the soft light.

“What kinda potion are you gonna brew with it?” Wild asks, face just as awed as the sailor’s

Both Twilight and Wind turn toward the champion, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and–at least in Twilight’s case– a mighty helping of genuine concern.

“What?” the farmhand sputters.

“C’mon, don’t hold out on me,” Wild says, his smile growing. “That looks like a pretty rare bug. I bet you could brew something really powerful with it!” He peers back into the side of the bottle, giving the grasshopper a considering look. “A Hearty elixir maybe based on the glow? Or an Energizing one ‘cause it's a grasshopper?”

Twilight pulls the jar close to his chest, away from Wild’s line of sight.

“I’m not using it in a potion!” he replies, voice going a little high with indignation.

“Then why didyou catch it?” Warriors asks, butting into their conversation with all the grace of an Ordonian goat. Which is to say, none.

“Don’t squash our Twilight’s dreams of being an etymologist, Warriors,” Legend cuts in before Twilight can justify himself. “So what if he wants to look at bugs when he grows up all big and strong? It's his passion,” he says, voice scolding but words snarky and playful.

Twilight rolls his eyes.

“I believe the word you’re looking for, Legend, is entomologist,” Four interjects without looking up from his book. “Entomology is the study of bugs. Etymology is the study of the history and development of words.”

“I’m assuming you study the latter, then,” Legend replies with a huff.

Four doesn’t respond, though he does turn another page in his book probably more loudly than is strictly necessary. Next to him, one of Hyrule’s closed eyes twitches, a smile pulling at his face, concentration broken.

“I caught it,” Twilight starts, forcing the conversation back on track, “because a friend of mine in Castle Town runs an insect conservation project. Golden bugs like these are becoming more and more rare throughout Hyrule, so I’ve been catching male and female pairs for her to take care of and breed.”

Wind makes a face at that.

“While I’m not great at telling the difference,” Twilight continues, regardless of the younger’s reaction, “I’m pretty sure this one is a female. Hopefully I can get her to my friend before we switch again.”

“Good,” Warriors says with a sage nod, “It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting. Especially one with such a powerful parasol.”

Twilight feels his face screw up in confusion, staring at the scarf wearing hero for a second. How Warriors knew Agatha was female, let alone carried a parasol everywhere she went was beyond him.

Warriors was just... like that sometimes.

The captain just seemed toknowabout some of their worlds, the knowledge rolling of the Pretty Boy’s tongue like it was no big whoop to have intimate knowledge off vastly different locations and time periods.

What made it even weirder was the type of information the soldier knew. Not big historical events or even exaggerated, folktale accounts. No. What Warriors knew of their worlds was often extremely niche, utterly unimportant little details. Stuff he couldn't just read in a history textbook.

It was mind boggling.

Twilight stares at the other a moment longer, and when Warriors doesn't elaborate or explain– in fact he gives Twilight a shit eating grin that tells the pelt wearing hero that the captain knows exactly what he's doing– lets the line of thought drop with a sigh.

A problem better left for another day.

A loud, long inhale sends all of the heroes’ eyes back toward the trunk of the oak tree.

Apparently, their conversation had been loud enough to rouse Time, whose chin rises from his chest as he blinks the last of the post nap sand from his eye.

As the Old Man stands and stretches, Twilight stows the jar back inside his bag, careful to put the glass container in the most secure part of his leather satchel before turning to his mentor.

With a nod and a significant look from their leader, the others begin to pack up their gear.

Their rest is over.

“You said the town was close?” Time asks, stepping closer to Twilight, an attempt to give themselves the air of privacy despite the fact that Twilight knows the others are listening in,  if their perked ears are any indication.

“We’re not far from Kakariko now,” Twilight replies with a nod. “Just a little further south. The  canyon should be coming into view soon.”

“Good. And you think this shamin…” Time pauses, the name obviously escaping him.

“Renado,” Twilight prompts with a quirk of his lips. “Memory going already, Old Man?”

Time waves him away, a glare without heat lighting up one eye.

“You think Renado may have some information for us?”

“If not him, then the Resistance might have something.”

The older hero wrinkles his nose at the name of the group.

“I'll explain later,” Twilight assures. “They’re harmless, but they do have a good network of information. If something is happening in this Hyrule, they’ll know about it.”

“Then we should get moving,” Time says with a decisive nod. And then, with a faint quirk to his lips, “But first, we need to decide who’s going to wake up The Beast.”

Six pairs of interested ears suddenly lower, no longer so intent on the conversation anymore.

The sound of packing gets louder.

Twilight can’t help himself. He laughs.

…

Hyrule ends up drawing the short stick this time, rousing the very groggy Sky with minimal injury, much to everyone else’s awe and envy. Apparently, damn near everyone had a soft spot for the traveling hero, including the infamously grouchy ‘Post Nap Sky.’

With that debacle taken care of, the group gets back on the road, making their way over the rolling green hills of East Hyrule Field.

It's a beautiful day Twilight notes with a growing lightness in his chest.

The sky is a bright, cornflower blue interspaced with fluffy, white clouds. The sun hangs high above their heads providing ample warmth while a faint breeze rolls over the hills, keeping the group of heroes from overheating.

The air is fresh and clean, smelling of grass and dirt, with the faintest promise of a storm despite the perfect weather.

Perhaps only Twilight can pick up on the last bit, but he doesn't mind the extra information. It’s saved his ass more than once.

Though, it wasn't always such an accessible tool in his wheelhouse, so to speak.

When he first transformed back into a Hylian after his involuntary stint as a wolf, the world was… off. Off center, off kilter, just plain off.

The Faron Woods, a place he had been traveling to, exploring, playing in all his life, was transformed into a foreign sensory deathtrap. The smell of greenery and dirt and warm water was so cloying, the farmhand could have sworn he was drowning in swamp sludge. Around him, birds were chattering, the wind was blowing, seemingly shifting through every single leaf in the forest as the deku babas snapped their jaws in sickening ragtime, a deafening cacophony.

It was...overwhelming. Maybe even more so than the massive, translucent light spirit in the shape of a monkey telling he was the hero of destiny.

Overtime, Twilight got a handle on his senses until they simply edged at his consciousness, hints of something that was more than his hylian senses could ever detect before, but definitely duller than the sharp accuracy he could achieve as a canine

Now, most of the time these little snippets of his wolf senses were helpful, like when they allowed him to see better than the others at night, providing better security.

Other times, they were annoying, like when Warriors had found some shitty cologne at a market and wore it for three days straight before Twilight could stealthily steal the bottle and throw it down the nearest ravine.

Speaking of ravines...

“Wild, Four, look how deep this canyon is!” Hyrule says, scurrying close to the edge of the cliff, gazing down into its depths with a look that borders on childlike wonder.

Wild jogs up next to the other teen and leans precariously over the lip of the canyon. He lets out an appreciative whistle at the sight, grinning as the sound echoes back seconds later

With a quick hand, Wild swipes his Sheikah Slate from his belt and with a click, a glowing blue bomb materializes in his other hand. “Let's see how long it takes this thing to hit the ground!” he says with a grin.

“Please back away from the edge,” Four huffs before Twilight can get the chance to do so, the smithy standing with his hands on his hips at least five feet back from where the others are. “You don't know how stable that ground is.”

Twilight feels his lips tick upward at smaller teen’s words.

At least one of their younger members has some common sense.

Hyrule has the decency to look a little sheepish as he takes a step away from the canyon. Wild, meanwhile, gives Four a flat look, obviously displeased that, for once, someone other than Twilight is raining on his parade.

“C’mon Smithy, where’s your sense of adventure?” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Aren’t we supposed to do stuff like this? Hero of Courage and all that?”

Four’s right eye twitches minutely, the blue sky reflected in its depths.

“I don't need the Triforce of Wisdom to know that what you’re doing is unnecessarily reckless. We’re the Hero of Courage, not the Hero of Dying Stupid Deaths.”

Wild rolls his eyes, but thankfully steps away from the edge as well, spherical bomb flashing back into non-existence as he does.

“Buzzkill,” the champion mutters as he stalks grumpily over to Twilight’s side.

As soon as he’s in range, the pelt wearing hero throws an arm around his neck, dragging him into a headlock, successfully pulling Wild even farther away from the canyon. Twilight hauls the struggling teen forward, back on the path toward Kakariko.

“Why don’t I tell you guys about that canyon as we walk?” Twilight offers placatingly once he's done grinding a fist into the top of the champion’s head.

Hyrule nods emphatically at the offer, big hazel eyes bright with curiosity. Wild, meanwhile, places his hands on Twilight’s back and heaves, wrenching his head from the rancher’s grip. Free once more, the champion mirrors the traveling hero’s look of eagerness, eyes bright, hair completely mussed.

Twilight laughs at their excited faces and continues to walk forward, forcing the boys to catch up if they want to hear his tales.

They do have a schedule to keep, after all.

Wild quickly falls into step on the Ordonian’s left while Hyrule slots into place on his right as they head toward the canyon that will lead them to Kakariko. Four takes up a position on Hyrule’s other side, not as entranced as the other two, but eager enough for information to include himself as well.

Once he's got all eyes on him, Twilight launches into a brief lecture of the formation of the canyon, starting with an old folktale before reciting Rusl’s old words about sandstone and tributary rivers to Lake Hylia.

As the sentences flow from his mouth on auto pilot– an explanation given to him years ago that he repeated for the kids, for Iliya, for her– Twilight feels himself smile.

Wild drinks in Twilight’s words like he’s dying of thirst. The champion had been so excited when the Ordonian had announced that they were in his Hyrule, eyes immediately flashing every which direction to catch anything and everything.

“You’ve seen all of my home,” Wild had said, an excited smile in place. “Now I get to see all of yours!”

Hyrule looks equally happy at the knowledge. Twilight doesn't know as much about the brunette teen as he does about Wild, but one thing the pelt wearing hero can say for certain is that their senses of adventure were the same.

From what Twilight had heard of Legend’s scoldings sessions with the traveling hero whenever the younger would get lost, the teen always wanted to see what was just over the crest of the next hill. Wild was much the same, climbing to insane heights, spotting something in the distance, and then running–or gliding– headfirst into it, regardless of whatever task or job he had been working toward before.

It was an admirable trait, their curiosity. They had a thirst for knowledge, for the unknown, for adventure. It was endearing, if not extremely annoying for those trying to keep track of the teens.

“There’s actually an attraction that runs in the river down there,” Twilight continues, his words suddenly catching back up to him.

“What kind of attraction?” Hyrule asks, brows furrowed and head tilted, like he can’t even fathom the concept.

Twilight elbows Wild lightly, a soft laugh jumping from his lips.

“One that I’m sure our Champion here would love,” he replies. “It’s called Iza’s Rapid Ride. The goal is to use bomb arrows to destroy as many targets as possible while steering a canoe down a series of rapids.”

“That sounds awesome,” Wild and– to Twilight’s extreme surprise– Four say at the same time.  All three of them turn to their smallest companion, faces colored with varying shades of disbelief.

Four, in turn, looks just as surprised at what slipped out of his mouth as they do. His eyes blink rapidly in confusion, the light catching them differently every other second until Twilight isn’t even sure what color the younger's eyes actually are.

The smithy’s head gives a slight shake and then angles downward, his jaw clenching and unclenching, chewing on unspoken words.

“If not extremely dangerous,” Four adds finally, looking uncomfortable as he stares at his shuffling feet.

Wild accepts the other’s words easily enough, quickly moving on to detailing what his strategy for such an attraction would be to Hyrule.

For his part, the traveling hero lets his eyes linger on Four a second longer before he is drawn into Wild’s crazy plan of using his slate to freeze the boat in time in the river so I can hit all the targets, Wild that's cheating, He didn’t say I couldn't, I mean yeah but I don't think...

Twilight though… Twilight eyes the smallest hero as they continue their trek.

The boy is silent once again, gaze locked on his feet as his hair hangs down around his face, a golden curtain blocking out the rest of the world.

To Twilight, it is a painfully familiar sight.

Colin does the same thing whenever he feels he has said something the other kids wont like.

Sometimes, it surprises Twilight how much of Colin he could see in Four.

Maybe it was just the hair and the big round eyes, but the Ordonian hero couldn’t help but draw parallels between the two.

Like the timid boy, Four often went with the flow of the other heroes, tagging along behind their more outgoing and outspoken party members, a mirror of Colin’s relationship with the other Ordonian children.

That wasn't to say Four was a pushover; the teen was confident in himself and his abilities, the little hero’s skill with a blade unquestionable and his discipline with the hammer and tongs a marvel. He was more than willing to speak his mind or outright call out dumb ideas if he saw them– case in point, earlier– but more often than not, the smithy was a passive figure in their menagerie of big personalities. Never the one to initiate conversation.

However, while he was never the one to start a dialogue, Four was always open and willing to listen to anyone and everyone who talked to him, just like Colin. He was attentive, seemingly going through each word someone said with a fine toothed comb, teasing out the implications of every syllable, just like Colin

Hylia, he was even the same size as Colin now that the boy had gone through a bit of a growth spurt. Slap a green headband on the Ordonian boy, and from behind, you might even be able to mistake one for the other.

Not to mention–

The resonant blast of a horn yanks Twilight from his thoughts and back into his body abruptly.

The sound echoes across the field, low and growling and Twilight’s feet freeze underneath him as his head whips back and forth. The farmhand can feel the three teens next to him sending him quizzical looks as his search becomes more and more frantic, but he ignores them, anxiety pumping through his veins, clawing at his intestines.

That noise. The horn. It’s sofamiliar, but his memory is foggy in his mind. Smokey and full of shadow, no definite shapes or colors.

And yet, that blaring noise pierces through the impenetrable fuzz, the only part of the recollection that is clear to him.

He remembers…

He remembers...

He remembers darkness. He remembers fear. Fear and water. Water on his face, water up his nose and water in his lungs. He remembers a pain in his head and that damned sound echoing in his ears, making his skull feel like it was shattering slowly.

He remembers… he remembers...

“In coming!” shouts a voice from behind them.

The half formed memory fades back into shadow as Twilight whirls around toward the others, his sword already in hand. The three teens beside the farmhand mirror him, falling into battle stances of their own.

Black bodies drop from the sky, the sound of birdlike screeches wrenching through the air and drowning out the last echoes of the horn as seven pairs of leathery wings flap in deafening unison. Twilight barely manages to bring his blade up fast enough to block a pair of claws from scoring across his face.

“Kargarocs!” he shouts, heaving his sword from the screaming beast’s grasp, dealing a slash to its legs.

The winged monster lets out a squawk of protest as it flaps its wings, desperate to pull itself out of range of Twilight’s sword.

With three powerful wing beats, the Kargaroc successfully launches itself into the air. It wheels for a moment, simply circling him like a vulture would, before it folds its wings in and dives, talons outstretched

“Oh no you don’t!” Wild hisses next to Twilight, bow out and an ice arrow knocked in the string. With a twang, the arrow flies, singing through the air for a moment before it strikes home; freezing the left wing of the Kargaroc.

The beast lets out a scream of pain as it spirals to the ground, thrown off course by the weight of the ice. It slams into the dirt with a sickening crunch, its voice dying out as it erupts into black and orange smoke.

Another screech from Twilight’s left has his head whipping to the side in time to catch another Kargaroc swooping toward Wild’s back with talons outstretched.

An odd whiffling sound passes by Twilight’s ear and suddenly a blur of yellow whips toward the beast, cracking into the head of the bird-like creature, sending it wide of Wild by at least a few feet.

Having hit it’s target, the shape– a boomerang, Twilight notes– arcs back around, flying behind the pelt wearing hero’s head and landing with a smack in Four’s outstretched hand.

“Go help the others,” the teen grits, readying another throw as Hyrule slides into an offensive stance, knees bent, silver blade steady. “We’ve got this one.”

Twilight nods, watching only a moment longer as Four lets the boomerang fly once more. The Kargaroc, having risen back into the air,  swerves to avoid it, diving to dodge the whirling wooden weapon. Miraculously, the boomerang follows the bird, forcing the beast lower and lower and lower, straight into the honed point of Hyrule’s sword.

It lets out a screech as the traveling hero’s blade slashes into the soft skin below its wattle.

Right, Twilight thinks, catching Wild’s eyes as they both turn and run toward where the others are. Those two definitely don't need help.

The rest of the heroes, however, do.

In a mass of black wings and talons, five of the flying menaces mob the others, a chaotic flurry of beaks, claws, and swords, all packed together in too small a space for any true combat to break out.

As he runs to their aid, Twilight isn't sure exactly how he's going to attack without accidentally hitting one of the others until...

Suddenly, there is a flash of cobalt fabric and one of the beasts pulls away from the rest, a distinctive scarf caught in its claws.

With two big wingbeats and a yank, Warriors is fished from the mayhem of black bodies, his clear blue eyes fire bright and wild as he claws at the keepsake that is quickly tightening into a vice around his throat.

With another harsh pull, the Kargaroc drags Warriors to his knees a good five feet away from the others and then releases the fabric, diving toward the now prone hero.

Twilight lunges forward, claws punching into his shield rather than through Warriors’ chest. Leathery wings batter the sides of the Ordonian’s head as the Kargaroc struggles against him, desperate for its talons to find their target.

With a grunt of effort, the farmhand manages to shove the squawking monster away, giving Warriors the precious seconds it takes to ready himself.

A woosh of air blasts past their heads, and the creature is back for more, this time swooping low, attempting to stab at their exposed heads with it’s cruelly curved beak.

Warriors fends off the first pass with a wide swipe of his blade, keeping the flying menace from coming within striking distance. Twilight batters away the second attempt, slamming his shield into the beast’s head as it dives.

With an enraged warble, the Kargaroc folds its wings and shoots out its scaled legs, claws clinging to the sides of Twilights shield. It lets out a scream that rings in the farmhand’s ears, too loud, too sharp, and too close as the monster rears back and snaps at him.

A flash of freezing cold air bites at Twilight’s neck, and suddenly, the beak in front of him is encased in ice.

Wild again.

With its head trapped and far heavier than the rest of its body, the Kargoroc drops, releasing the shield, and plummets beak-first into the ground, its wings and feet scrabbling feebly at the ice.

Warriors doesn’t let it struggle for long, plunging his sword into its spine.

“You should really tuck that away during battle,” Twilight says breathlessly, glancing at the scarf trailing behind Warriors as the other stands, pulling his blade from the plume of smoke

“I’m honestly surprised the first thing to go for it was a fucking overgrown bird,” Warriors replies with an huff, adjusting the aformentioned cloth to fit more snugly around his neck.

The crack of a whip snaps through the air, jolting both heroes back into their ready positions.

In the next instant, a body slams into the ground next to Twilight.

Another Kargaroc, this one flailing wildly as it crys bloody murder. A red whip wrapped around the winged beast’s throat making it’s voice come out garbled and pained.

It’s fight halts long enough for beedy, yellow eyes to lock onto the farmhand and suddenly, the creature’s struggles redouble as it fights against it’s bindings, a blood lust that needs to be satisfied gleaming in its gaze.

Before it can pull itself free, a body with a bright blue tunic suddenly throws itself between Twilight and the Kargoroc.

The figure resolves itself into Wind, hefting a hammer that is way too big for the small teen’s hands over one shoulder. With a full bodied motion, the sailor swings the mallet down with enough force to create small shockwaves that jolt up Twilight's legs as he smashes the monster’s skull in.

“Nice one, Sky!” Wind yells as he hoists the mallet back into his arms, eyes already searching for his next target.

The Chosen Hero nods in silent acknowledgment, cracking his whip to free it of the slowly disintegrating body of the Kargaroc. He quickly zeroes in on a target and with another swing of the whip, Sky manages to snare the wing of a second monster.

Monster hooked, the Skyloftian leans back and then pulls with the full strength of both arms, yanking the struggling body to the ground.

Twilight and Warriors both step forward, ready to put the beast out of its misery, but before either can deal the mortal blow, another burst of freezing wind has both heroes stopping short.

Above the struggling Kargaroc, a block of ice condenses from thin air. It grows and grows and grows until a massive, translucent boulder hovers weightless in the air, misting in the noonday sun. It floats for a moment longer before it suddenly plummets to the ground, gravity catching up to it and crushing the beast below its mass.

Behind the now stationary mound of ice, Legend slowly lowers a staff with an angularly cut sapphire on its tip back down to his side. He winks at them, a smug smile pulling at his lips as he stares down Twilight and Warrior’s shocked faces.

“Fucking magic,” Warriors mutters under his breath. Twilight can't help but agree. He was never a fan of the stuff himself.

Twin screeches echo through the air before they are suddenly, and without remorse, cut off.

Turning, Twilight catches the tail end of two puffs of smoke dissipating in the air, Time giving Wild an approving nod as the champion happily flushes at the gesture.

“Sound off!” Time calls as he cranes his neck to spot all of their members.

A chorus of ‘fine’s, ‘here’s, and a particularly snarky ‘present’ respond to his call. No one yells for help or screams for medical attention and slowly, Twilight feels the tension of the battle leave him, his breaths becoming longer and slower as the adrenaline in his veins slowly sputters to a stop.

They group back up, a few sporting minor bruises or a couple of niks here and there, but otherwise, no worse for wear. Hyrule and Legend quickly begin distributing bandages to those with cuts while Wild pulls herbs from his slate. Something to help the pain later, Twilight remembers vaguely.

As the others get themselves patched up, Time strides toward where Twilight and Warriors stand. The Old Man holds out the Biggorn sword for them to inspect.

Orangish-red blood drips down the blade in thick rivets.

“Not infected,” Time says succinctly as he pulls out an old cloth to clean his blade. “Do they usually fight in groups as large as that?”

Twilight shakes his head, confusion bubbling in him.

“The largest group I’ve dealt with before is three.”

Time hums at his words. With a final swipe of the cloth, the sword is freed of the viscera that had been coating it and the older hero sheathes the blade at his side.

“Not infected and yet still acting strangely,” Warriors sumerizes, with a shake of his head.

Both heroes turn to Twilight, questions burning in their eyes.

Unfortunately, the Ordonian hero has none to give.

Except…

“Did you guys hear that horn before they attacked?” Twilight asks, a phantom echo of the sound bouncing around in his skull once more.

Warriors face screws up in confusion, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth turned down in a befuddled frown. Time, however, straightens.

“What did you hear, Pup?” he asks, single eye flickering over Twilight’s face.

“I...I’m not sure yet,” Twilight admits, a mixture of frustration and shame making his stomach feel full and heavy. Something scratches in the back of his skull. Fear or a warning maybe, but Twilight can’t say for sure. It itches and itches and itches.

The pelt wearing hero kicks a boot into the dirt, his mouth pulling to one side. “I know I’ve heard it before. I just... can’t place it.”

The shadowy memory from before surfaces behind his eyes once more and the itching in his brain multiplies ten fold.

The darkness. The fear. The water. That blasted sound.

But he can’t remember.

A warm hand grips his shoulder and when Twilight looks back up, Time is sending him a look dripping in concern, eye soft as it gazes imploringly at him.

“I can’t place it,” Twilight says again, feeling helpless. “But I know whatever it is, it isn't good.”

…

They enter Kakariko with little fanfare, the good mood from earlier all but dried up after the Kargaroc attack.

Though, Twilight does have to admit, just smelling the dry, dusty air of the village brightens him up a bit, despite the anxiety that still runs rampant through his heart and the itch in the back of his scalp that refuses to abate.

There are more people in Kakariko now than there were when he had first seen the town.

Before, when the skies were a perpetual dreary gray and when the sparks of twilight floated upward through the air like inverse snow, the village had been a literal ghost town, only the spirits of the few survivors left huddled together behind boarded windows and barred doors.

In the years after he had completed his journey, though, Kakariko had flourished. Where once there were empty, dilapidated buildings, now there were homes, freshly painted and open to the streets.

Where there were once quiet, lifeless streets, now there are voices, people, going about their day in the canyon town. Instead of three adults and a handful of scared children, Kakariko is now home to multitudes, families even.

Case in point, Shad and Auru. Though they still met up at Telma’s bar most of the time, the two members of The Resistance now lived in Kakariko permanently, taking up residence in two of the renovated homes.

The Gorons also visited more frequently, their nighttime stalls featuring gems and other Death Mountain goods. Their wears were becoming more popular as word about them spread to the general public.

With the arrival of the Gorons, came trade and cultural exchange. Soon, the old hamlet had become a bit of a tourist destination, an easy way to experience the medicinal and luxurious hot springs of Death Mountain without– well– actually going up Death Mountain.

To accommodate the influx of people, the Malo Mart had expanded as well, the small shop growing to include an extra two rooms and more merchandise than ever before. Barnes Bombs enjoyed a similar increase in customers, though definitely not as extensively as the now chain of shops that Malo ran.

To put it simply, Kakariko was finally a village again.

And thankfully, one with a large and accommodating enough hotel, the Elde Inn, to fit all of them comfortably.

They go three to a room:Twilight with Time and Wild, Warriors with Wind and Sky, and Four with Legend and Hyrule.

After settling into their designated spaces and, in some cases, fighting over beds, they all come together in Time’s room to discuss the game plan for the rest of the evening.

“Time and I will be going to speak to one of my friendsto get information on any strange occurrences,” Twilight starts once everyone is quiet and paying attention, partially in part due to a well placed glare from the Old Man.

“And I think Warriors mentioned wanting to go to the shop to restock?” Twilight continues, sending a questioning glance to the aforementioned Captain. The scarf wearing hero nods in confirmation.

“So, if anyone has any specific requests or would like to go with him to carry supplies, that would be appreciated,” Twilight finishes.

Surprisingly, Legend raises a hand.

“Hyrule and I have been keeping an eye on our medicine stores and there's a couple of things we could probably use,” the pink haired hero says by way of explanation. “Besides,” he continues, serious expression melting away as he smiles charmingly at Warriors, “I don't trust him with my money.”

Warriors adopts a dramatically affronted look, hand to chest and everything as he gasps in shock.

“Sounds good,” Twilight says, agreeing easily enough, despite the dramatic interruption. Warriors turns his open mouthed expression on Twilight, giving him a look that said ‘how dare you not defend my honor?’

Twilight returns Warriors dramatic expression with half lidded eyes, a raised eyebrow, and a faint shrug that hopefully conveyed the sentiment ‘can’t defend what isn’t there’.

Time steps forward, breaking up the unspoken smackdown by giving both heroes a very tired face.

“And you five?” the Old Man asks, looking at the youngest members of their group plus Sky. “Was there something you wanted to do before we meet up for dinner later tonight?”

The five look between themselves, no one willing to speak first, lest they get shot down.

A part of Twilight– the part that itches itches itches at the back of his skull–hopes beyond hope that all of them decide to just stay in the hotel rooms for the rest of the evening.

A much bigger part of him knows that that's never going to happen.

“I wanted to check out the spring at the back of town?” Hyrule says eventually, his voice going high at the end, like it was a question rather than a statement of intent. “It feels like… there’s something special about it.”

Time nods at his words but Twilight feels that scratching, that incessant itch, increase with a vengeance, digging at the back of his head at the teen’s suggestion.

One could say a lot of things about Hyrule, but the traveling hero was definitely observant, especially in things having to do with magic. It figured that Hyrule could detect the spiritual nature of the spring.

It should be one of the safest places in town.

So why does Twilight’s scalp crawl and his guts quake at the idea of any of them going near it?

“I’ll go with you, ‘Rule,” Sky pipes up with an easy smile, jolting Twilight from his revere and unknowingly adding insult to injury. “And then afterwards, maybe we could visit the hot springs upstairs?”

Hyrule nods eagerly and Sky’s smile grows. “Perfect!”

“Wild and I wanna go to the bomb shop!” Wind cuts in with a big grin.

Twilight feels a frown pull at his face, a more concrete concern finding its place in his stomach like a pile of stones.  

“Sounds interesting. I’ll tag along as well,” Four interjects and Twilight can’t tell if that soothes his anxieties or ratchets them up further. Obviously, Four had shown interest in bombs earlier that morning, something Twilight couldn't remember him doing before.

The kid was a wild card, someone Twilight couldn't predict. At least he could count Wild's more-erm-pyromaniac persuasions to be consistant in their destructive nature. The pelt wearing hero had no idea what to expect of Four, apparently.

And with Wind egging them on? It was a recipe for disaster. Twilight doesn't need a foggy memory, an itch in his brain, or a sinking feeling in his gut to tell him that much.

Wild, however, let’s his discontent at the smithy’s addition be known immediately with a groan.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Wild says with a huff, eyeing the shorter hero.

“No one said anything about a babysitter,” Four replies evenly. “The shops I’m interested in aren't open until night, correct?” he asks, directing the question toward Twilight.

The farmhand nods.

Four had been particularly keen on seeing the stalls that were open after dark, excited to see what the Gorons would display that evening at their stands. The smithy was practically giddy to examine and pick apart the innovations a forge heated with lava could produce.

“I’d like something to do in the meantime,” Four continues after Twilight's answer. “And besides,” and here his face remains entirely neutral except for the faintest flicker of a smile and a flash of fire in his eyes, “I like bombs.”

No one really knows what to say to that, so the argument is dropped.

With their plans settled, everyone begins to head out, with Sky and Hyurle leading the charge out the door, talking amicably about the medicinal pros and cons of hot springs. Warriors is quick to follow them, eager to get out to the shops as soon as possible.

As Legend turns to follow the scarf wearing hero, Twilight catches him by the arm.

“Hey,” the Ordonian starts once he’s got the younger’s attention, “If there’s a baby-faced kid working the shop, don’t let him gouge you. The kid’s notorious for hiking up prices for tourists.”

Legend raises an eyebrow but nods at Twilight’s words, acknowledging.

“I’ve haggled with Ravio before,” the pink haired hero says with a little bit of a grimace. “I think we’ll be fine.”

Memories of the aforementioned merchant’s salesman smile, smooth words, and flair for theatrics blink into existence in Twilight’s mind.

“Fair enough,” he admits, releasing the veteran hero’s arm.

Once freed, Legend turns and strides through the doorway, walking towards an impatient looking Warriors who waits with a hand on his hip and a foot tapping on the ground. Legend holds a hand out to the older hero, making grabby motions as he flashes Warriors an expectant look. The two stare at each other for a moment, some kind of silent standoff.

With a sigh, Warriors relents, dropping the wallet full of their pooled spending money in the veteran’s open hand.

And then the two are off. Which just leaves…

“We’ll be back in time for dinner!” Wind assures as he scurries out the door, Wild hot on his heels.

“Don’t blow up the town!” Twilight shouts at their retreating backs.

“No promises!” Wild yells back over his shoulder as he and the younger blonde disappear around the bannister and down the stairs.

Four follows them at a more sedate pace, waving away Twilight’s slightly concerned look as he follows their resident trouble makers out of the hotel.

And… they're gone.

Twilight stares at the stairway for a moment longer. There's something… uncomfortable about watching them disappear one by one out of the hotel, out of his line of sight.

Anxiety drips coldy down his ribs like ice water and settles in his gut and Twilight finds his hand scratching at the back of his scalp idly, trying to assuage the tingling itch that irritates his brain.

A hand lands in the pelted fur sitting on Twilight’s shoulder as Time comes to stand next to him.

“They’ll be fine,” the older assures.

For a moment, Twilight wonders how Time knew what he was thinking, before he lets the thought roll off his back. He’s far past asking Time why he knows anything. The Old Man just knows.

“Besides, how much harm could they do in an afternoon?” his mentor finishes with a smile.

Twilight turns to the other, giving him the driest look the farmhand can muster.

Time lets out an unbecoming snort, hand that was once on the farmhand’s shoulder releasing so Time can give him a fond clap on the back.

“Joking!” the Old Man says, voice warm with laughter. “I’m joking!”

The armor wearing hero takes a second longer to compose himself before staring down at Twilight with a knowing look. “I swear, you’re worse than I am sometimes,” he laughs, with a slight shake of his head.

Twilight winces at that slightly.

He knows he can be a bit… overprotective of the others. But he can’t really stop himself from worrying about them. Whenever any of them got hurt, Twilight felt their wounds like they were his own. When Wild would wake from night terrors, shaking and unable to breathe, Twilight felt breathless with him. When Wind’s frustration at how the others treated him bubbled over into warm tears, Twilight felt his own eyes start to water.

He couldn't help how much he wanted to protect them all.

It ran in his veins, pounded in his bones, howled in his heart.

An instinct, he thinks ruefully.

It was the same mindset Twilight had held for most of his life, ground into his very being from hours of entertaining and watching and protecting the kids of the village. It’s what drove him, trapped in wolf form and in an unknown land, to protect Wild from any and all harm.

It made Twilight want to hide Wind and Hyrule and Sky away from the world, to drag Legend into the confines of safety kicking and screaming. It made him want to take all of the daggers meant for Warriors back, to make sure Time made it back home safe to Malon.

It’s probably what made him see Colin in Four.

It was definitely what made Twilight sure he would use every moment he still had breath in his lungs making sure Wild was happy.

Twilight can’t describe it, the force that wraps his heart in a vice at the thought of any of the others in pain. He can’t describe the growling anger at the presence that forced them to dance in time with its plans.

He wishes he could describe it, pin it down and understand it’s source, but he can't.

He also wishes it wasn’t so active due to the fact that they were in danger all the Hylia damned time.

Twilight blows a sigh through his teeth, pushing a hand through his bangs.

“I’m happy I got to meet them,” Twilight says eventually, still staring at the stairs. With effort, he  manages to wrench his gaze away from the steps, turning to look into Time’s too observant eye. With another exhale, Twilight feels something in him deflate, energy suddenly sapped from his very marrow.

His shield arm aches. He wants to sit down. He wants to visit the hot springs or curl up in the warmth of his bed.

He doesn't want to deal with this anymore.

But he will. For them.

“I’m happy I met them, but sometimes I hate that they’re here,” Twilight mutters, letting all the sadness and bitterness that came with failing to protect the others over and over and over again turn his words to daggers. “I hate that they got dragged into this.”

“You make it sound as though this is your fault,” Time says, words gentle but voice pointed, striking straight to the core of Twilight’s thoughts, his feelings. “You make it sound as though you're not a victim here as well.”

The farmhand’s mouth opens but his voice is dead in his throat. He has nothing to say, no response.

“I would tell you not to hold this burden on your shoulders, but I know you will refuse to put it down,” a little laugh, not happy but not angry either. Resigned. “Just one more thing you inherited from me that I wish you hadn't.”

Half of Twilight’s mouth lifts into a sad, partial smile, the same expression pulling onto Time’s face.

Two faces that look too similar to be anything but related, having seen too much of the world.

“The best we can do for now is try to figure out what is going on here,” Time continues, voice stronger, more confident. A pillar that Twilight can lean on if he needs. “The sooner we can do that, the sooner they and this Hyrule will be safe from whatever would wish to do them harm.”

Twilight nods silently at his words.

Right. They have a plan. A plan he can focus on and work towards, steeping himself in preparation rather than peeking around corners for every what ifscenario.

The farmhand takes a deep breath in, allows it to fill his lungs, before he breathes out. He stowes the uncertainty, buries the fear. He allows the anxiety to stay. It isn’t like Twilight can banish it if he tried– and oh, how he's tried– so instead he lets it settle in his gut, familiar if not comfortable.

It will keep him on his toes, if anything.

With another gulp of air, Twilight straightens his spine and squares his shoulders and then leads the way out of the hotel and toward Renado’s house.

…

It is not a far walk to the shaman's place of residence.

From their hotel, it's just a quick walk down the central dirt path of the town.

As they approach the building, Twilight can see Hyrule and Sky a little farther back as they stand in the water of the nearby spring. Both have abandoned their boots, their pants pushed up past their knees to protect the cloth from the warm water as the two heroes wade deeper.

The Skyloftian looks up and flashes them a contented, close mouthed smile and a little wave. Hyrule, meanwhile, seems entranced by the water, eyes locked on the crystalline surface as he searches for something.

As though summoned by his intense gaze, a fairy appears, seemingly materializing from the water itself.  Hyrule lets out an amazed laugh as the little pink sprite flutters upward and circles his head once, before stopping right in front of his nose.

Sky laughs delightedly at the sight. Behind him, the farmhand hears Time huff out a content sigh.

They look relaxed in their joy. Happy. Warm.

Twilight isn’t sure why, but it sets his teeth on edge, that anxious tension in his guts roiling as phantom bugs carve lines in the back of his skull.

He's forgetting something. Something really important.

Whatever it is, it makes Twilight want to force them out of the spring right now. It makes him want them to run back to the hotel and lock themselves inside.

In a flash of rose, more faires blink into existence to follow their sister, a whole swarm of them circling around the two heroes, sparkles of strawberry magic swirling them in a mini blizzard.

Their voices rise in surprised joy as Twilight turns from the sight and sets his knuckles against the old wood of Renado’s door. He knocks with three quick whaps of his fist.

Almost as soon as his hand leaves the wood, the door creaks open, a heart shaped face looking up at him shyly through a short curtain of black hair. Dark, round eyes almost immediately light up in recognition and the door is thrown open as the girl behind it dives at him for a hug.

“Link!” she exclaims, her happy voice muffled as she gives him a squeeze around the middle.

“Luda!” Twilight replies a little breathlessly as she squeezes harder. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” she says into his chest, tone fond.

She’d gone through a bit of a growth spurt since he had last seen her, Twilight realizes as he gives the young shamin-in-training a light hug in return.  Her head reaches his mid chest now when it used to be at his navel. As she steps back to give him a once over–checking for injuries no doubt, Renado taught her well– Twilight wonders if she’ll surpass him in height one day.

If she takes after her father, as Twilight suspects she does, she most certainly will.

Done with her inspection and having seen nothing in need of her immediate attention, Luda steps back through the threshold of the door, holding it open for the two heroes to enter.

“Come in, come in! Dad will be so relieved to see you. Shad and Auru too.”

As they pass through the doorway, Twilight notes how the teenager’s eyes linger on Time, curiosity sparkling in those observant, dark gray eyes of hers.

Entering the room is like walking nose first into a brick wall made out of pure jasmine, pine, and cinnamon. Well, at least it is for Twilight anyway.

It is… potent to say the least, but a familiar potency, one he has gotten used to after spending hours in this very room, comforting Talo and Beth, talking to Colin and Iliya.

As his eyes adjust to the change in lighting, Twilight sees that the house is almost just as he remembers from his quest. The wooden torches are lit and in place on the walls, casting the room in an inviting orange glow. The old, worn, hand woven carpets frame the stone statue of the Light Spirit Eldin that looms in the center of the room. Lovingly painted pots litter the cracked dirt floor, organized from largest to smallest against the rounded walls.

The only large difference between this room and the room he remembers from his adventure is the addition of another door at the back, an expansion to the house Renado had built with the help of the Gorons.

A clinic for the expanding town.

Luda shuts the door quietly behind them and then turns, hands on hips and face expectant. She leans forward a little, letting her eyes rest on Twilight’s face. After a moment of silence, both of her eyebrows lift and her eyes widen, as she sends the farmhand an even more pointed look.

“So?” She says imploringly. “Where have you been? What have you been up to?” Her eyes flash back to Time for a moment before landing back on Twilight once more. “Rusl said some group of strangers showed up in Ordon and spirited you away on another adventure or...?”

Twilight opens his mouth to explain and then shuts it once more. He turns to Time, but the older man is no help, simply giving the Ordonian a shrug.

What Rusl had told her… wasn't technically wrong. Twilight had just happened to be back in the village helping Fado with those damned goats when five warriors had stepped onto the ranch.

Two of them appeared to be Twilight’s age, one with a flowing blue scarf and the other with the Master Sword of all things strapped to his back. Two of the others looked to be younger, the anxious brunette appearing to be a teenager while the one with the multicolored tunic made Twilight fear these men were traveling with children.

The last one, however, had been the one who had caused the normally sure seated rancher to almost fall from Epona’s saddle.

The armor was different, but undeniably similar. It was missing the overgrown moss, the vines that choked the arm guards and crossed the chest. Without the foliage  and the rust that Twilight was accustomed to, the metal shined in the sun, sending flashes of silver and gold into the air.

He was missing his helmet, Twilight had thought idly.

He was also already missing his eye.

After that, it had not taken much–if any– convincing on the other heroes’ parts to get him to join. He was already on board.

“Well?” she says, cocking one hip. Her stance has the body language of Telma written all over it.

“W-well,” Twilight starts, “I’ve been traveling with some people from far off lands.” The farm hand spares a look at Time, who, instead of helping, is smiling faintly as Twilight flounders on his own.

Thanks a lot.

“We’ve been traveling around a lot, helping out wherever we can. I guess we just sort of… ended up here? Now?” Hylia, he is bad at lying.

Stretching the truth, a phantom, high pitched and giggly voice whispers in his ear. He ignores it.

“This is my… one of my new friends,” Twilight says, the words sounding wooden and forced to his own ears as he gestures to the Old Man.

“You may call me Time,” his mentor cuts in, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Luda takes it and gives it a firm, polite shake, her father’s propriety shining through despite her reservations.

“Luda,” she introduces in return.

The young shamin gives Twilight another questioning look but ultimately drops it, her shoulders drooping slightly as she strides past the two heroes towards the back room.

“I’m assuming you’re here for my father. I’ll go grab him for you,” Luda says over her shoulder. “He’s in the back with a patient.”

She disappears into the other room and Twilight can just hear her raise the call of “Daaaad!” as the wood swings shut behind her, muffling her voice once again.

It is silent for a moment.

Time turns to him, mouth open to speak, but his words are drowned out as the sound of stone grinding on stone assaults the air.

The statue of Eldin in the center of the room is moving, gliding across the ground, the owl–Moth? Eagle? Twilight was never sure what Eldin was supposed to be. None of those things have lips– slowly shifting to the left, revealing the secret passage below.

As soon as the stone is out of the way, a head pops from the newly revealed hole in the ground. A head with slightly mussed auburn hair and with askew, round spectacles sitting precariously at the end of a familiar nose.

“Ah!” Shad exclaims, hefting himself up the final rungs of the ladder and into the room proper. The scholar adjusts his glasses and then smiles warmly, holding his hand out in a friendly greeting. “I thought I heard your voice. It is nice to see you again, Link.”

Twilight takes his outstretched palm with his own, giving the hand a short, strong shake. “Likewise, Shad. It’s nice to be back.”

“And not a moment too soon,” comes a calm, deep voice from the back of the room.

Renado sweeps into the room, looking serene as always despite the very tell-tale red that stains the ends of his long sleeves.

“We didn’t mean to pull you away from a patient,” Time says quickly, apparently having seen the blood as well.

The shamin waves the older man’s worries away. The tassels on his sleeves sway with the motion.

“He is in stable condition now. Luda can observe him while I am away.”

“She’s graduated from assistant then, has she?” Twilight asks.

“Yes,” Renado replies, the normally neutral expression on his face cracking slightly with pride. “She is coming along very nicely.”

The slight uptick to his lips falls and the carefully blank expression falls back into place on his face.

“However,” the older shamin continues, “the reason for her getting so much hands on experience is worrisome to say the least.”

“So there have been attacks?” Time asks, cutting right to the chase.

Renado eyes Time for a moment, an open weariness to his usually relaxed dark gaze.

Twilight takes a small step forward, drawing Renado’s eyes back to him. “Please,” he says, allowing the unfettered concern that had been howling in his chest all day to bleed into his words. “What's been going on?”

The shaman's eyes study him for a moment before he nods almost imperceptibly.

“As your friend said,” the man starts, voice still calm, “there have been more attacks as of late. The monsters are getting increasingly aggressive.” The shamin brings a hand to his chin, a cloud shadowing his eyes with worry. “Kargarocs have been encountered in increasingly large numbers. The Bombskits are growing less skittish. Stalhound packs spring to new heights every night.”

“But that’s not the worst of it,” Shad cuts in. “While there are more monsters, they’re easy enough to dispatch with a group of skilled hunters or warriors.”

The scholar and the shamin share a pointed look, an unsaid question rigning silently in the air between them.

“The problem,” Shad continues, choosing his words carefully. His eyes flicker over Twilight’s face, waiting for a reaction, “lays in what is controlling the monsters.”

“Controlling them?” Time presses.

Shad nods grimly.

“The Bulbins.”

And suddenly, the itching in Twilight’s scalp stops. The tight grip anxiety has on his stomach releases in shock.

The foggy memory clears and slots itself into place behind Twilight’s eyes.

A warm evening. A warm spring. A warm smile. Warm green eyes.

He had felt so warm, so protected, so safe, not a care in the world. The only thing on his mind was excitement for his journey the next day.

It would have been his first time going past Faron Woods. The first time he would see Hyrule Field. The first time going to Castle Town. His first chance to explore the world.

He had been excited but content, happy to be with his friends, Iliya smiling in front of him and Colin laughing by his side.

He had been so happy.

...

And then the tremors had started. Distant at first, but growing with each passing second until it was an earthquake, the water rippling and crashing in miniature waves around his legs as he fought for balance.

The rumbling grew and grew, rhythmic and deafening until with a terrible crescendo, a Bullbo had crashed through the wooden gate protecting the spirit spring, two Bulblins armed on its back.

Colin had gasped, stumbling back. Iliya had screamed, turning to run.

And he… he was frozen.

The beast had charged forward, crashing into his side and shoving him out of the way. One of it’s riders readied a bow, and with a twang, put an end to Iliya’s escape… and her screams.

He had wanted to run to her. He had wanted to grab her and Colin and flee into the secret passage, to safety.

He never got the chance, a club slamming into the back of his head, making the world explode with pain and darkness as he fell first to his knees, and then into the water.

Darkness. He could not move, could not swim up from the depths of his mind. He had felt water around him, water up his nose, water in his lungs but he had been unable to cough or even choke.

He had been drowning in that darkness when he had heard it.

That sound. A deep rumbling, resonant blast of an ivory horn, the notes diving low before flinging themselves higher in the air.

The call to the Twilight Realm. The all clear.

“Pup?”

Twilight drags himself from the memory, Time’s concerned face slowly swirling into clarity before his eyes as the images fade back into his brain.

“But that makes no sense,” Twilight mutters in bemusement, shaking his head to dislodge the final pieces of the memory from his vision.

“Why?” Time asks. “What are Bulblins?”

Both Shad and Renado’s heads whip around to face the armored hero, twin expressions of shock and confusion on their faces.

“He’s not from here,” Twilight throws at them by way of explanation, too deep in his own thoughts to come up with a more detailed or believable lie.

“Bulblins are…” Twilight pauses, unsure where to start.

Thankfully, Shad takes pity on him, stepping forward to provide a better explanation than Twilight ever could.

“Bulblins,”the man starts, adjusting his glasses slightly as he speaks to Time, “are a race that is related to Bokoblins, though how closely related, no one knows for sure.”

The scholar pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger, a thoughtful expression dropping onto his face.

“What sets them apart from Bokoblins, other than the green skin, is their intelligence. They can build complex structures. They have their own language and have been known to speak rudimentary Hylian. They even have a hierarchical society, with a chief or king.”

“Their hierarchy is based on strength,” Twilight cuts in, having finally found his words. “Strongest at the top, weakest at the bottom. You can probably guess why they would side with Ganondorf.”

Time nods.

“But,” Twilight continues, “I defeated the King of the Bulblins in single combat. After that, they abandoned Ganondorf and fled back to the Gerudo Desert. They haven't been seen in Hyrule proper for years now.”

“Well, very apparently, they are back,” Renado replies, lips down turned. “Travelers and merchants have reportedly been attacked while traversing the kingdom. There have been sightings of Bulblin raiding parties as close to the village as Eastern Hyrule Field.”

A heavy hand lands on Twilight’s shoulder. He glances up at Time, and the two share a look. Question. Response. Not a word spoken.

“We’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning,” Twilight says,voice strong, decisive as he  wrenches his gaze away from his mentor to look at the other men in the room.

Shad adjusts his spectacles again, eyes wide, matching the circular frames. Renado, as unflappable as ever, tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

“May I ask who is included in this ‘we?’” the shamin asks, eyes once again flitting to look at Time before they lock on Twilight once more. “I will not send good people to their deaths.”

“The group I’m traveling with is more than capable of handling this,” Twilight replies firmly. “I would trust each and every one of them with my life.”

Twilight doesn't even have to look to know that Time is smiling behind him. Or at least, sporting that soft eyed look he gets sometimes, half of his mouth pulled up, brows high.

The shamin raises his head slightly, aprasing.

Slowly he inclines his head. Graceful as ever.

“Then we shall leave it in your capable hands, Link.”

…

As they exit the shamin’s house, Twilight sees that Hyrule and Sky are gone from the Spirit Spring.

The farmhand catches himself as he lets a sigh of relief breeze past his lips at seeing the warm waters calm and empty. He now understands why it had made him so sick to see them happy there. Happy and content and warm.

With a frown, Twilight turns away from the water, feet slowly carrying him through the town, following in Time’s dusty footsteps.

They continue to the hotel in relative silence.

If Twilight were to guess, he would assume Time’s mind was already occupied with thoughts of the coming battle. Formations, pairs, weapons, all of it whirling through the old man’s mind at a breakneck pace.

Twilight, on the other hand, feels mired in memories, each one dragging through his mind and pulling at his eyes, forcing him to look, to see.

Before he knows it, they are back in their shared room, Time making adjustments to his armor in the corner while Twilight stands in the center of the room, lost.

The weight of the Shadow Crystal suddenly increases tenfold, the leather cord of the necklace biting into the back of his neck. Twilight idly brings a hand up, fingers hovering over the warm, warped obsidian stone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Time asks and Twilight’s head snaps up.

The Old Man doesnt look up from his work, a ploy to look as unobtrusive, as unjudging as possible.

The rancher feels his hand drop back to his side.

“Talk about what?”

Twilight knows he's being obtuse.

He also knows he doesn't want to talk about it.

Time merely shrugs his shoulders, thankfully taking the hint and the air around them is once again silent, save for the faint scrubbing sound of a cloth on metal.

Soon enough boots stomping up the stairs and the sound of arguing breaks the awkward air in the room, signalling the arrival of Legend and Warriors back into the hotel.

“I’m simply saying that the purple one looked nice!” Warriors says, voice high and defensive as he stomps up the final step, head turned back to address Legend.

“And I’m simply saying,” Legend replies in an irritated, huffy voice, clearly struggling a bit more under the weight of his laden arms than Warriors, “That purple is not your color.”

“Oh, I’m about to make purple your color,” Warriors grumbles back as he enters Twilight and Time’s room and sets down his load of bags. Time spares them a glance, before rolling his eye and going back to his armor.

Legend deposits his load on the ground as well and then fixes Warriors with a look, one hip cocked and one eyebrow raised.

“Wanna say that again, Pretty Boy?”

Without responding, Warriors sits down and begins pulling bottles full of a pearlescent, red and rippling, mesmerizing blue liquid onto the ground. Legend mirrors him, grabbing bandages of all sizes from his own bags organizing them by size as he goes.

“I could snap you like a twig,” Warriors comments as if he's talking about the weather, peering at some materials for fletching arrows.

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Legend responds just as flippantly as he adds another red potion to Warriors growing line of bottles.

Twilight rolls his eyes.

He will never understand their friendship.

Wild, Wind, and Four are the next to get back, the sound of feet quickly ascending the wooden stairs the only warning Twilight gets before two pairs of hands grab at his shoulders and yank him down to be face level with their youngest member.

“You have fish that are bombs in your Hyrule?! My Hyrule is a fucking ocean and we dont have bomb fish!!”

“Language.” Two voices call out, and Wind flips off the air, pointing his finger to indicate the room at large.

“Twilight,” and here, Wild’s voice sounds pained, like the farmhand has wronged him in the most irreparable way possible. His face is scrunched up, eyes closed, brows down and mouth in a wince. “Twilight, how did you fail to mention that you live in a world with exploding bugs?!”

Two pairs of very expectant blue eyes look up at him, like both young heroes are actually trying to get an explanation out of him.

Twilight looks up for help and catches the eye of Four who stands in the doorway. Half of the teen’s mouth lifts into a wry grin, both eyebrows up and then he turns, leaving Twilight to his fate.

“Well?”

“Uhhhhh,” he replies, very intelligently. “It never came up?”

By the look on both teen’s faces, that is not the right answer.

After an unfortunately thorough chewing out by the blondes, who manage to extract a promise from Twilight to test out the bombs at a later date, Hyrule and Sky finally descend the stairs from the upper levels, apparently done with the hot springs.

Both are positively glowing, their faces smiling and cheeks still flushed from the heat.

Soon enough, dinner is served in the lobby, a type of spiced cucco served with a yogurt sauce with flatbread. The heroes descend on the food, their table picked clean in an almost embarrassingly quick amount of time. It’s good, though Twilight muses that WIld could probably improve the recipe in at least 12 different ways.

After the meal, Time briefs everyone on their task for the next morning and then turns them loose to make their preparations.

Before Twilight knows it, sunset orange light bleeds into their room from the window and Four once again stands in the doorway of Twilight, Time, and Wild’s room. Sky and Legend stand behind the smaller teen staring hopefully at Twilight from over the smithy’s head.

Well, Sky looks hopeful. Legend looks impatiently expectant.

“We were wondering if you would like to come with us to the Goron stands,” the small hero says,  eyes flicking over his shoulder to include the other two in the statement. “We figured you would know some of the sellers.”

On his bed, Wild perkes up and stows his slate back on his belt, obviously interested in the proposition.

Twilight feels the younger’s eyes on his back but ignores the puppy dog stare being thrown his way. Besides, it's entirely unnecessary. Now that Twilight knew what was causing his metaphorical (and not so metaphorical) hackles to rise, he sure as Hylia wasn't going to let these idiots out of his sight.

Which is how Twilight finds himself trailing behind Sky, Legend, and Wild as they make their way through the dusty streets of Kakariko once more, the last light of day bleeding red against their backs, sending their shadows crawling along in front of them.

The sight of the extended shades shifts something in Twilight. The Shadow Crystal feels a bit heavier, a bit warmer against his chest. Next to him, Twilight thinks he sees Four wave his hand subtly at his own shadow, the dark reflection mirroring the movement.

Soon enough, the lanterns from the pop-up stands come into view and Wild takes off, dragging Sky through the throng of shoppers and toward the first stall. Legend follows at a slower pace, picking his way through the tourists with a bit more grace than the champion

The Skyloftian is apparently looking for something to get his Zelda as an anniversary present and had enlisted the help of Legend to pick through the prospects. The pink haired hero was apparently very particular about his jewelry, magic or not, and had a keen eye for quality and cut.

Wild was there to look for a new pair of earrings for himself, excited to add to his own inventory of shiny things like the magpie he was.

From what Twilight can see over the crowd, Wild holds up a pair of extremely gaudy looking hoops–they’re absolutely massive, thick, and over bedazzled. They look like they could knock out the wearer if they moved their head wrong–and Legend makes a dismissive hiss, as though the metal has personally offended him. Wild grins at his disapproval and turns to the vendor Goron, asking about the price.

Sky laughs as Legend seethes.

Beside him Four seems like he’s just about to dive into the fray of people toward a stand selling knives when a voice has both him and Twilight turning.

“More friends of yours?” Luda asks as she pulls herself from the crowd and comes to stand at Twilight’s side, looking at the squabbling boys.

Wild somehow finds an even uglier pair and holds them up to his ears. Legend looks like he's going to chomp the other’s head off. Sky, standing between the two, is too busy looking at a necklace to be any the wiser.

“Unfortunately,” Four mutters for Twilight.

The shaman in training startles, seemingly seeing Four on Twilight’s other side for the first time.

“Oh, hello!” She says and Twilight winces as she bends down to address the smaller like one would a child. Four’s right eye twitches, cobalt and cold. “My name is Luda. What’s your name?”

“Four,” the smithy says, standing up straighter and injecting as much icy politeness into his voice as possible. He holds out his hand. “A pleasure.”

Luda blinks at the tone and overly rigid behavior and then straightens up, taking the smithy’s hand and giving it a quick shake.

She sends a questioning look Twilight’s way.

“First Time and now Four. Your friends have some pretty interesting names, Link.”

“They’re nicknames, actually,” Four corrects, jumping back in before Twilight has to fumble his way through another stretched truth. “We’re all from pretty far away, so some of our names are difficult to pronounce outside of our native languages,” he says, the lie slipping smoothly from the teens lips like a polished river stone.

It sounds believable even to Twilight.

Luda's face lights up at his words, a proud and challenging glint to her dark eyes.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she says with a smile and a wink. “I’m pretty fluent in Goron- if I do say so myself- and I’ve been working on my Zora and ancient Sheika recently.”

Four’s eyes alight in response, a competitive grin of his own pulling at his face and a mischievous fire in his eyes.

“Cochi-ichoa-ichia ichiri,” pops from the boy’s mouth, each syllable bubbling from his lips, the sounds quick and chittery, like a bird or a squirrel as he places a hand on his stomach– where the seams of his tunic come together–  and bends slightly at the waist in a small bow.

Twilight stares wide eyed at the teen and next to him, the farmhand swears Luda’s eyes damn near pop out of her head.

“What the hell was that?” Twilight sputters.

Four simply grins smugly and shrugs his shoulders before turning away to walk toward the stalls. Luda lets out a shocked  little laugh and then jogs forward, throwing a wave back at Twilight before catching up with Four, questions flying from her mouth as soon as she can think of them.

They are swallowed by the crowd of shoppers.

And so Twilight is left to his own devices.

Not really there to buy anything himself, Twilight merely peruses the stalls slowly, saying hello to Gor Liggs and his son, Carrig as he browses. As he passes in front of one of the many jewelry stands, Ota, the young Goron, excitedly asks when Twilight would head back to the summit for more wrestling matches. Apparently Darbus was looking for a good match and hadn't found one among his brothers yet.

Not wanting to disappoint the kid, Twilight quickly gives him a humble non answer, a ‘as soon as I’ve got the time’ and then he moves along.

At the next vendor, Twilight finds Legend and Wild, the pink haired hero nodding his head appreciatively as the scarred boy tucks a couple of strands of long hair behind his ear, modeling another pair of earrings.

Twilight gives a whistle and nods his head. He has to hand it to Legend. The guy really does have an eye for this stuff.

The piece that Wild wears is elegant but not overly showy. The part that actually sits in the teen’s ear– the stud, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Iliya’s reminds– is a simple ball of silver. However, thin lines of ivy seem to grow from the ball, drawing icy swirls of vines and leaves from the teen’s lobe to the outer parts of his ear.

“Looks nice, Cub,” Twilight says, earning a glittering smile from the champion.

“Much nicer than those monstrositiesfrom earlier,” Legend agrees, his face screwing up as if he were chewing on a lemon at even the thought of the horrendous hoops.

Wild sticks his tongue out at the comment and then quickly pulls his slate from his belt to pay for the earrings. Then, they set out to find Sky among the crowd of tourists.

The chosen hero is easy enough to spot, his distinctive white sailcloth-cape distinguishable even in the fading light of the sunset.

However, apparently, while he is easy to spot, he is very difficult to please. At least when it comes to getting a gift for his girlfriend.

By the time the three of them make their way back toward where the Skyloftian is examining bracelets, the young man has worked himself into a tizzy, clutching multiple pieces of jewelry in both hands, looking back and forth and back and forth.

It takes a while, but Legend is eventually able to talk the chosen hero down, and helps Sky to select a simple metal charm–a stylized sun with thin rays of light radiating off it–to go along with the pink, red, blue and purple beads Sky had been carefully whittling and dying over the last few weeks.

With their main task done, the group of four simply browses through the stands as they wait for Four to get his fill of questions.

From where Twilight can see, Four and Luda are still chatting away six stalls down, the teen examining a large looking, metal hammer with interest. He points at some part of it, first talking to the girl next to him and then shifting to ask something of the vendor.

The two listen with rapt attention as the Goron responds and then Luda points to another part of the hammer– the side of the hammer’s face– her head shifting to the right as she clarifies. Both Four and the vendor nod at her, the small smithy smiling brightly as he adds something else that has Luda nodding right back.

The two continue to chat with the Goron, eyes equally bright, soaking in the knowledge.

Twilight smiles at the sight.

Next to him, Wild holds up a garish gold necklace, odd metal spikes hanging from a central, gold plated eye. Legend scowls at it and Sky merely laughs, pretending to take interest, if only to rile the veteran hero up further.

In front of him, Twilight watches as the sun finally, finally takes its rest, sinking below the cliffs of the canyon in one last swipe of a red and orange paintbrush. As the laughs and jeers around him increase, Wild now pushing a diadem into Legend’s hair, the navy blue of dusk finally settles like a blanket above them, heralding the night.

All is calm.

That should have been his first hint.

The second at least had the courtesy of being more obvious.

A faint tinkling starts from the table next to them, dragging Twilight’s attention away from the skyline.

Two rings clink together. Three rings clink together. All the rings clink together.

The farmhand’s whole world narrows down to the table, the sound of Wild’s laughing, Legend’s snarls, Sky’s weak attempts to play neutral all falling away as he stares as the silver and gold pieces shift against one another on the table.

Twilight watches as the rings shift and then jump in time, moving on their own.

No… not moving on their own!–

What started as an imperceptible tremble under his toes grows, the ground beneath his feet  rumbling and quaking, forcing the farmhand to brace his legs beneath himself to stay standing.

The earrings, necklaces, bracelets, tools, swords, everything begins to clink together. Then they do more than clink, jumping in chaotic waves, clanging so loudly it rings in Twilight’s ears, a picaxe to the brain.

The sound of a horn, no five, no seven, blasts from the end of the canyon in a hellish chorus, the low notes sending the earthquake up into Twilight's stomach, setting off an avalanche of ice into his blood. The anxiety in his guts cracks open like a fissure, fear spilling out.

Beside him, Sky loses his footing, falling forward. Twilight doesn't even let him touch the ground, razor sharp instincts allowing him to catch the young man’s sailcloth turned cape and haul the chosen hero behind himself.

With a strong step forward, Twilight throws his arms open, shielding the three other heroes behind himself just as the wave of Bulbos turn the corner, screaming into the village.

Around them, cries– Hylian, Goron– rise into the air as the beasts charge.

Everything is chaos. Bulbos squeal and grunt and shout in time with cries of fear as the beasts careen into the crowd and through the stalls. Broken wood, precious jewels, fire; it all flies through the air as bodies shove into Twilight from all sides, the crowd moving as one, dragging them downstream.

Behind him, Twilight feels hands grab into his tunic, into his pelt like a lifeline. He reaches back, catching what feels like Sky’s sailcloth between his fingers and holds on with all the strength and desperation he can manage.

A snap and an errant shard of wood comes careening from the darkness, slamming into the side of Twilight’s head, but he hardly notices. He’s too preoccupied with keeping his hands on his boys as he's pulled forward by the current of people, making sure they aren’t pulled away by the flood or Hylia forbid, fall to the ground to be trampled.

Oh Hylia, Twilight thinks, the ice in his veins turning sharp and pointed, stabbing into his lungs as fear takes his breath away.

Where's Luda?! Where’s Four?!

Twilight lifts his head, trying for a better vantage point, but is given an elbow to the eye and a shove from the side for his troubles, sending him reeling but not down. Hylia, he can not go down and drag the others down with him.

More screams rise into the air as a lantern smashes into a stall setting the whole thing ablaze, scattering embers and hot oil like pollen from a poppy.

Immediately the crowd moves, shifts, dives away from the danger, a school of fish moving on instinct in the dark.

Twilight is powerless to stop it, dragged to the left of the street by the horde. Someone falls next to the pelt wearing hero, landing bodily into his side, wrenching his left arm back. The cloth connecting him to his brothers threatens to be pulled from his hand but Twilight holds on all the harder, digging his nails into the fabric.

Another shove and out of the side of his eye, Twilight catches how the light of the fire glints in shades of oil spill orange and green off the side of oxidized and rumbled sheet metal in the shape of a tall building.

Barnes Bombs.

Somewhere he recognises. Somewhere the crowd is swimming away from in their haste to make it to the hotels.

A shoreline in a storm.

Twilight locks his knees against the onslaught of people and feels a body slam into his back. The sailcloth goes slack in his hand. Sky, most likely then.

Looping the fabric around his wrist for security, Twilight ducks his head and begins to ram his way to the sides of the crowd, earning him errant punches and elbows and kicks from all directions but he keeps moving. By Hylia, he keeps moving. Keeps moving forward.

With a final push, Twilight breeches the mass of bodies and throws himself flush against the side of Barnes’ shop, the metal uncomfortable against his back as he all but drags Sky and the others to his side.

At a glance, they seem to be battered and rattled but overall fine. Sky seems the least injured, though his wide, aquamarine eyes catch in the fire, big  and frantic and overwhelmed. Behind him, Legend sports a few rips to his tunic and a rapidly purpling chin, his own eyes flashing back and forth over the crowd, searching. Blood gushes from WIid’s nose and drips off his jaw though the teen hardly acknowledges it as he catches sight of Twilight, face contorted in concern.

Twilight doesn't feel his own cuts and bruises, the nick on his forehead from the wooden plank or ache in his arm or the pain in his ribs. His blood is too warm with adrenaline to feel any pain, too cold with fear to care if he did.

They all lock eyes and in the next moment,  they draw their weapons, Twilight and Sky going for their swords while Wild pulls a massive, stone bludgeon from his slate. Legend’s hands wrap around the Ice Rod he had been using earlier, ready to drop tons of ice on their adversaries.

And yet, as soon as they ready themselves, the sound of pounding hooves and shattering wood and screams the new, earth shattering normal, it all flies away, the ground slowly coming to a halt beneath Twilight’s feet.

In a flash, the riders are gone, dark shadows moving away like ghosts into the night, leaving only swirling dust clouds and destruction behind them as proof of their existence.

In a matter of seconds, the street is clear of most people, only glittering metal, ravaged stalls, and the injured left in the dusty road.

Immediately, Twilight’s eyes are scanning the dirt, looking for a small childlike figure amongst the rubble. He searches for that distinctive quadripartite tunic, those locks of golden hair in the lantern light. Anything.

Every passing second that the farmhand sees neither hide nor hair of the small smithy, his heart ratchets up three notches in his chest, his breaths coming out ragged and panting.

Twilight doesn't know what he dreads more in that moment:the boy staying missing, or finding him.

The sound of creaking wood sends Twilight’s head whipping up from his frantic search.

Across the street, a pile of debris shifts, revealing the yellowed, rocky skin of a hunched up Goron slowly uncurling.

The sentient rock straightens, coming to his feet first and then slowly uncurling the rest of the way, wood and dust falling away from his back as he uncrosses his arms from around where he had been curled.

And as he stands up, Twilight watches with fascination as two figures are slowly revealed to the firelight, both with similar bob haircuts but in opposite colors; one sable, one golden. Slowly, the two disoriented figures stand from their huddled position,  looking dazed and rattled but none the worse for wear.

Four and Luda. Safe.

Twilight must make some kind of choked off cough, because suddenly both teens are looking at him. Something like pained relief slams over Four's face and the teen stumbles forward over the shattered planks of wood toward the farmhand, Luda following close behind.

Something in Twilight settles at the sight of of the two, safe and s–

Thunder.

Pure, deep, rolling thunder shatters the delicate calm, ripping apart the second long reprieve

The thunder rises, the note going from a grumbling, vibration of the air to a triumphant war call, rattling through Twilight’s body, that sick sense of deja vu clawing at the back of his brain as his eyes are all but forced from the teens back toward the entrance of the village.

There, standing in the pale light of the rising moon in front of the steaming water of the Spirit Spring, is Lord Bullbo, his distinctive gray hair, massive tusks, and glowing red eyes visible even from the other side of town.

Astride the hulking beast’s back is a green skinned figure, too large to be a regular Bulblin but too small to be the King, large, painted horns hooked and dangerous, gleaming red eyes flashing in the firelight.

The too large Bulblin’s glowing eyes lock onto Twilight and then flash to the teens, a snaggle-toothed sneer pulling at his lips as the man?–monster catches sight of the would-be reunion.

And then the Bulblin flicks the reins and Lord Bullbo rears back with an ear splitting squeal, legs heaving the gargantuan body as fast a runaway carriage down the dirt street.

Twilight’s body is moving before the farmhand even registers it, sprinting forward, arms outstretched. Beside him, Sky, and Wild match him step for step. Legend does one better, the wings on his boots fluttering up a storm as the pink haired hero sprints like the winds, pulling in front of the farmhand, reaching forward

Across from the heroes, the Goron dives, making a grab for the teens, trying to pull them from harm's way once more.

Above them, the Bulblin looms, two pairs of blood moon eyes locked onto the youths caught in the middle of it all.

And Four and Luda…

Well, they run.

They run, dust kicked up in swirls by their feet.

They run, twin expressions of fear blowing their eyes wide.

They run, Luda pulling ahead, her longer strides allowing her to cover more distance.

They run, but as the shadow of the charging beast descends over them, faster than the Goron can dive, faster than Legend can sprint, Twilight knows with a flash of clarity that neither of them is going to make it in time.

Twilight knows they’re not going to make it, and he can see the moment that Four knows it too.

Can see it in the way the smithy’s eyes harden into flinty, multicolored gems. Can see it as he plants his feet, presses both hands into Luda’s back and with a full body movement, shoves her forward into Legend’s arms.

Twilight watches as, alone, the tiny hero turns to meet his fate head on.

And then, in the next second, Twilight can no longer see Four, the teen ripped away by the fabric of his hood, up into the arms of the Prince Bulblin in a flash of silvery boar hide and a snorting laugh.

In the matter of milliseconds, the gray beast has made it to the end of the canyon, the end of the town and the bastard Bulblin pulls on the warthog’s reigns, pulling the spitting bullbo until the creature rears back on its back hooves, screaming in fury.

The Prince Bulblin raises his prize and...

And Hylia, for the splitest of seconds, Twilight sees Colin in the monster’s hands.

He sees Colin, sweet, intelligent, brave Colin, unconscious in the arms of King Bulblin, held aloft in the noonday sun, a war trophy to spur Twilight into action. To spur Twilight to fight.

But then that moment ends.

It is night once more, the moon glinting off Lord Bullbo and illuminating the not-King Bulbin as he struggles to contain his captive even as he raises the teen skyward.

Because Four is not Colin.

Because unlike Colin–brave despite himself but still a child at heart– Four does not faint in the arms of the Bulblin.

No.

Four hisses and spits like a feral fox, punching, kicking, clawing at every piece of green skin he can reach. The smithy rages in the Bulblin’s grip, thrashing wildly, nearly sending the rider from his saddle as he swings precariously in the monster’s hold.

Twilight dares to hope the Bulblin will lose his grip.

He doesn't.

Instead, he adjusts his grasp in the green fabric of the hood while his other hand releases its hold on the reins long enough to grab a massive wooden club from the back of the saddle. The Bulblin raises it above his head, looks straight at Twilight, and then, with a vengeful, poison filled smile, brings it down savagely.

Once, twice, three times.

Only then does Four still, finally going limp like Colin did.

And only then does the not-King Bulblin lift the smithy with a scream of triumph, the moon and the fires illuminating both monster and hero in the glow of destruction, red eyes bright in brutal glee as the green of Four’s headband turns black, drenched in blood.

A twang sounds from behind Twilight, an arrow sailing through the air only to glance off the side of the not-King’s armor harmlessly. The Bulblin smiles cruelly as squealing, terrible chuckles rip up from his throat at the failed attempt to save their friend.

Then, with a jolt of the reins, the Bulblin crashes away into the night with Four tucked under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

For a second, it is quiet, the only sound breaking the silence the crackling of the fires quickly consuming the destroyed stands.

In the next moment,Twilight begins furiously turning out his pockets,desperate to feel the smooth wood of that two belled flute, where is it, where the hell did he–

“Twi,” Wild says, voice urgent and rough with worry, as he, Sky, Legend, and the shaking Luda jog over to the farmhand’s side, matching expressions of concern and frightened anger on their faces.  “Twi, what are you doing? We have to–

There!

Twilight yanks Iliya’s Charm free from his back pocket, quickly presses the mouthpiece to his lips and blasts three descending notes twice.

Almost immediately, there is an answering whinney and the distant but quickly approaching gallop of hooves. In less than a minute, Epona stands by his side, muscles twitching and hooves pawing restlessly at the dirt, in tune with her master’s clawing anxiety, his need to run, his need to run now.

With sure movements, Twilight swings himself onto her back, heels ready to tap Epona into movement, hands already at the reigns ready to snap–

“Twi.”

Twilight’s legs freeze in place, his hands hovering, holding the worn leather of the reins in a death grip.

He wrenches his eyes from the dirt path in front of him, looking down.

Twilight looks at them and Wild stares back with imploring eyes, hand on Epona’s side as blood drips from his nose. His face is hard as stone, determined. Beside the champion, Legend glares up at Twilight, daring the other hero to tell them to leave. The veteran’s electric blue eyes are bright with fire, inside and out, guilt, concern, and anger taking turns pulling at his face. Behind the two, Sky nods his head as he sets his jaw, ready for anything.

Twilight looks at them, and even though anxiety and fear and a howling, clawinganger boil in his guts, he feel totally and utterly proud and totally and utterly stupid.

Because of course they want to help. Of course they needto help.

And of course he’s not alone. Not anymore.

He doesn't have to try to save Colin Four on his own. He doesn't have to be a one man army riding out into the sunset headless of his own safety.

Because, no matter how much it pains him to see them hurt, or how much it kills him that they’re in danger, he can’t protect them from everything. What literally just happened proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

He can’t protect them. Can't lock them away under his watchful eyes forever. Can’t force them to abandon who they are just to satisfy his own conscience.

He can’t protect them from the darkness.

But he can help them fight it.

And by Hylia, they can help him fight it too.

So, these thoughts singing in Twilight’s head, the pelt wearing hero scoots forward in the saddle and offers a hand down to his fellow heroes.

Legend immediately steps forward to take it, but pauses.

“Got an extra bow in that thing?” Legend asks gruffly, flicking steely eyes at Wild.

The champion nods, and with a click, a wooden bow with metal reinforcements glows into life. The veteran hero takes it and the proffered quiver full of arrows and then grabs Twilight’s hand, seating himself snuggly against the farmhand’s back.

In a flash of ethereal light, more ribbons of effervescent aqua condense from nothing, weaving together, forming… something.

It looks like a Guardian, segmented and criss crossed with veins of orange and aqua light. However, instead of the vase shaped, octopus designs of those Sheika monstrosities, this machine is sleek, two wheeled and fashioned in the style of a horse, saddle and equine head and all.

It is big enough for only one rider.

Wild quickly mounts up on the device like it's the most natural thing in the world, feet sliding into the metal stirrups and hands going straight for the handlebars that stick from the neck of the mechanical horse. He gives the nobs there a twist with his wrists until the device gives a kick, a grumbled humming sounding from the thing.

With a final click of his slate, a vicious looking, serrated triplicate boomerang materializes in the champion’s hand, steel glinting dangerously in the moonlight..

With a soft cough, Sky steps forward until he stands next to Epona’s side gazing up at Twilight. He unsheathes the Master Sword, glances over the sacred blade for only a second, before he offers the purple and green pommel to Twilight.

“We’ll switch,” he says, nodding to Twilight’s Ordonian sword. “She wants to go with you.”

Twilight takes the blade, his callouses sliding against the smooth pommel, the grip fitting perfectly in his hand like it was made for him. He supposes he knows now that it wasbut that doesn't tarnish the feeling holding the sword gives to him.

He slides it into the sheath on his back, nodding his head in thanks to the Skyloftian.

Sky nods in reply, takingTwilight’s sword. It is an uneven trade, but one the chosen hero seems happy enough to make.

“I’ll get the others,” Sky says, serious.  “We’ll be there soon.”

With that, the chosen hero takes off down the street toward the Elde Inn, his thick, labored breaths showing no sign of slowing the Skyloftian down.

Which just leaves...

“Bring him back,” Luda says, eyes big as she stares up at Twilight. Her voice, however, is steady and hard. An order. “Bring him back just like Colin.”

Twilight nods, a silent oath.

The girl accepts it, stepping back from Epona’s side with a final pet to the horse’s twitching flank before she too turns away and runs back toward her house, no doubt to get her father to help the injured.

Everything settled, Twilight sets his eyes on the moonlit, dirt road ahead of them. Legend shifts behind him, readying his bow. Beside Epona, Wild revs his machine, the wheels spinning, sending up clouds of dust.

“Let go get our smithy back,” Twilight says, voice all fangs.

Then, with a snap of the reigns, Epona bursts into motion, her powerful legs galloping them further into the canyon, further into the dark.

[inkedtoast]

TF2 x Male!Reader (Chapter 2)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weapons

When I come to, a large jolt causes me to hit my head against something cold and hard.

“OW, FUCK!”, It just slips out of my mouth. The moment it does, I clamp my hands over my mouth. I instantly realize I don’t know where I am, other than in the back of a moving van. A clinking noise emanates from my wrists as I move them around. I look down. Handcuffs. I have handcuffs on my wrists. A loud, metallic shhhff noise and a flash of bright light, and suddenly there’s a voice talking at me.

“Oh hey! Are you awake now?”, It’s the same voice as the person who… Who shot me with a damn tranquilizer! I squirm back as much as I can (not much, only a couple feet) and yell. My back hits a wall in the van with a soft thmp.

“You shot me!” I shout accusingly.

“With a tranquilizer! Don’t be a baby,” She points out. I see her hand wave as she talks. The van swerves a little.

“That doesn’t make it better!? In fact that makes it worse! You’ve shot, drugged, and kidnapped a grown man”

“That’s literally my job, kid. Kidnapping, maiming, hiding bodies, cleaning up messes… You name it. I get told what to do and I do it. Cut and dry.” By the tone of her voice, it sounds like she's been stuck doing that job for years. I realize with a startle that it’s possible she’ll be hiding my body…

“Uhhm… So.. Do I get to know whether I’ll be dying today? Or is that uh.. Classified or whatever?” I fiddle with my handcuffs as I ask, rotating my hands back and forth, then look up to see the side of her face is turned towards the little window that’s letting us talk. After a moment she turns away. Silence. Well, I don’t like that…. I see her moving to close the little window, but I don’t want her to.

“Wait!”, I say. She stops moving. “Uhh… Can I have some water? I don’t see my backpack in here. Oh shit, where’s my backpack? Is it back at the bar?” The lady starts laughing.

“You have an interesting list of priorities. You’re in a moving van, with a lady who shot you, and have no idea where in the fresh hell you’re going… And you’re worried about your backpack?”

“My water bottle is in my backpack..” I huff. The woman sighs at me.

“I’ve got it right here,” I hear her pat her hand against something and figure that it was my backpack. I feel a little relief. Then I feel alarm again.

“Wait, hang on, nothing in there is wet right? I have a phone and a sketchbook in there."

“Again, interesting priorities, kid…,” She opens and shuffles stuff around in my backpack. “It’s all good, nothing is wet. Anyway, here’s your water bottle,” She shoves it through the window to me, but due to it being made of metal, it clatters very loudly to the floor of the van. I wince at the sudden noise but manage to keep it from rolling away from me. After taking a very long drink from it, I settle against the wall of the van and sigh. Lovely… I’ve been kidnapped by some random lady, I have an awful headache, and I”ve got no idea if I’m gonna die or where I’m going. Although, it could be worse… I could have a gun held against my head right now, or be in the middle of being tortured.

I get lost in my thoughts for, apparently, quite a while because the next thing I know, I feel the van slowing and hear the woman shuffling around in the front. A few minutes later, the van gets really dark, like we’ve pulled into a garage or a tunnel. I can hear people talking outside and metal hitting metal. A door opens and closes, and then the door to the back of the van slides up, a burst of light blinding me while I get dragged out by someone. Once my eyes adjust, I see a couple people wearing different kinds of red uniforms along with the woman wearing a purple dress. The person who’s holding me, quite tightly, by my arm is a tall, lanky fella with shades and some kind of akubra hat. I look around and see where the noises of clanking metal are coming from. A stocky man is working on some kind of tech, soldering and hammering away at it. Another, very tall and bulky man is across the way cleaning a very heavy looking gun. Him and the other man with the hammer are passing comments at each other. The purple-wearing woman waves me and the tall guy holding my arm over.

“Where the hell am I now?” I ask her. She gives me a pointed look. She reaches for my hands and unlocks the handcuffs from my wrists.

“No more questions. Just.. Be quiet until I say you can talk,” She looks at a clipboard and walks away, the man pushing me along lightly. I want to protest and say I can walk by myself, but the kukuri at his side makes me think twice about that. We walk through several hallways until stopping in an area that looks almost like a hospital ward.

“Now, I’m gonna warn you, he can be pretty…. Odd. He also might try to put baboon uteruses in you, but we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it. Just sit still and don’t upset his birds,” With that, her and the man who was my temporary chaperone leave me there. I look around, very, extremely confused before a set of doors crash open.

“Ahhhh! There you are, hello! I’ve been expecting you!” A tall, and actually kinda attractive, man with a heavy German accent rushes out to greet me. He’s fairly tall, with dark, short semi-slicked back hair, round glasses and is dressed in a large white coat with dark trousers. A red and yellow symbol of a medical cross are embroidered on both shoulders.

“Uh--,” I open my mouth to speak, but the man shushes me.

“Ah ah, first things first,” He has a slightly crazed look in his eye. “Your examination!”

Next thing I know I’m seated on a red cot with several machines hooked up to various limbs. Different beeps fill the otherwise empty ward as the man, who seems to be a doctor, keeps an eye on the machines. I catch him looking at me with curiosity a few times. My face burns when at one point he smiles at me. I may have been kidnapped and then unwillingly hooked up to machines, but I will not deny that this guy is cute… Wait, what the fuck. What’s wrong with me? I have been kidnapped. I should be scared out of mind!

I start thinking about how no one has actually harmed me. Well.. Aside from the tranquilizer. But still. I was allowed water, I didn’t have a gun to my head and I wasn’t beaten up or tortured. Maybe these people don’t have it after me.

I feel a gloved hand on my face and realize the doctor was trying to get my attention. His face is extremely close to mine and I bat him away with my hands.

“Ah! Don’t get that close without buying me drink first,” I joke. The man apologizes and removes his hand, but still maintains the same distance. I hear some odd cooing noises and look up to see a line of doves perched on a rail. That’s kinda unsanitary…

After a few minutes of checking my vitals, and prodding around in seemingly unnecessary places, the doctor stepped back and clapped his hands.

“I am perfectly happy to say you are in good shape! Perhaps a bit overweight but.. Otherwise, you are a fine and functioning specimen of a human male!” He puts away some items and sets down a clipboard on which he was scribbling notes on this whole time. I get up and walk towards the doors before stopping.

“Uhh, hey, what’s your name? You never said,” I ask. The doctor looks at me, his eyes darkening for a split second.

“Here we have no names. We have buried them, for we have no use of them. We simply use the name of our class. In my case I am the medic, so you will call me Medic,” He promptly picks up a few jars full of… organs and walks away, “Have a good evening!”

I stand there, a tad bewildered, before heading out of the ward. I wander the hallways for a while before hearing the sounds of people talking. I follow the carrying voices until I find myself in what appears to be a kitchen-dining room area. There are several people spread across the room in chairs. All of them are wearing different red-themed uniforms, just like the people I saw when I first got here. They stop talking once they notice me. A beat of silence passes as I shuffle on my feet awkwardly before opening my mouth.

“Uh, hi…? Who the hell are all of you?”

[hd-learns-korean]

The Fiery Priest...my new drama obsession!

Warning! This post contains serious spoilers cos I’m going to geek out over this show like nobody’s business! 

Hi all! I hope you all had a good week and are on track for having an awesome weekend! Sooo if you have guessed by now I love a good K-drama and boy have I found a new one to be singing praises about *pun intended* today. 

I found this accidentally when I was scrolling through Netflix and thought the premise looked fun and interesting. I am so glad I gave it a go and ended up box watching all 20 full length episodes in less than a week! IT IS SO GOOOOD! 

So the premise of the show is this; 

Kim Hae-il is a kick ass Catholic Priest looking for vengeance! After someone close to him is murdered by a corrupt police force that has hands in the criminal underworld, Kim Hae-il and his team (which comprises of a priest with a background in acting, a nun that used to hustle money via gambling, a hip-hop obsessed rookie cop, a scaredy cat senior detective, and an equally fiery Prosecutor) are on a mission to bring the bad guys to justice. 

This show is action packed, witty, and downright hilarious. I sooooo recommend this program and I really do hope they come back with a second series!

The literal translation of this show is Hot blooded priest  열혈 hot blood 사제 Catholic Priest.

Now watch as I fangirl over all the things I loved about this show!

Kim Hae-ils’s fiery temper and kick ass attitude. This guy takes no nonsense from anybody. He doesn’t like what somebody has to say to him, no problem they end up with a broken nose and probably a missing tooth!  His one liners are amazing. The best one that got me was when he was told to use a plastic ruler instead of a metal one to beat a suspect up with, and his response was along the lines of ‘oh I don’t like plastic rulers, they don’t whip as much as metal ones!’ I mean... I think I may shit my pants every time I see a priest now...like are they all trained in military combat? Is that the deal now to become a priest you have to know how to knock somebody out cold with a bottle of holy water and rosary beads?

The friendship between the group and how it slowly grows until they become a family. They argue, they make fun of each other, however they have each others backs and if one of them is under attack they all come out ready for a fight!   Word of warning don’t. Mess. With. Ssongsak!

I laughed so much at the scene when the mobsters are given laxative plant extract! Omg when they pooped their pants I couldn’t stop laughing as little flowers flew out of their arses!

I really enjoyed watching how the criminal underworld all had links within the police and prosecution services. It was shady as hell man, I mean all of them were in on it weren’t they! For all that money too… I was watching it thinking daaaaamn how high up the chain does this go to! From Russian mobsters, to cult leaders to the chief of police and then the secret service. It’s intense man….intense! 

The friendship between Ssongsak and Oh Yo-Han. Their friendship is just too cute man! And what is going on with Oh Yo-Hans trippy audio skills. Give him a mocha bread and he’s like a human telephone mast!

Seo Seung-A’s rapping skills! I nearly popped a rib laughing when she turned up for her first day on the violent crimes squad and busted out rapping! I mean the girl can spit a bar or two...but it’s probably best left to karaoke and not a team meeting! All her colleges were like who the hell is this? Her clothing though is on point!...I want those jackets that she wears!

Kim In-Kyung’s fire gambling skills.

I love the way Kim Hae-il and detective Koo Dae-Young talk to each other.  I mean if threatening each other wasn’t enough their fights are legendary. I mean I didn’t know a beef rib could be used as a weapon but now I do! Plus the dog masks guys...the dog masks alone! If you’ve seen that part you’ll know what I mean! Their BFFness is adorable and cute and I. Can. Not. Get. Enough. of. it!

I feel so sorry for detective Koo Dae-Young. I mean how many times does he have to get hit on the head? I really liked how the show used this to include a slapstick sort of vibe. He hallucinates the strangest things though…

Omg I nearly died when Kim Hae-il and Nam Suk-Goo go head to head and it took two teams of cops to drag them away from each other….their legs though...omg so funny when they still carried on trying to kick each other even when they were both lifted into the air by like 6 cops each!

Jang-Ryong’s character in general. He’s the worst bad guy ever. He can’t fight properly, his suits look like something from the 1980’s and that bob! I mean every time he went to fight he had to move it away from his face. It looked more like he was trying to film a L’oreal advert than beat the crap out of somebody. He deserved to poop his pants after the way he treated Ssongsak! However I did like how he and  Ssongsak became friends in the end. He learnt his lesson….don’t tease a trained fighter!

The OST for this is pretty alright. The music style definitely fits in with the theme of the show! More songs to be added to my Spotify playlist!

And finally I have to say the acting in this is SPOT ON! One of my most favourite K dramas so far! I give 5 outa 5 stars to this heavenly drama! 

Have you guys watched this show yet? I’d be so interested to hear your thoughts on this! Like I am the only one to fangirl over this show! 

Overall I highly highly recommend this drama. It’s got something for everybody and if you find crime drama’s boring give this one a go, the comedy in it alone makes it a five out of five for me! 

Right then lovelies I’m off to go find another drama to watch....

Until next time

Bye x 

[inter-bellum]

You deserve to be happy

Song: There for you - Martin Garrix + Troye Sivan (!) I will follow you into the dark - Death cab for cutie (Covered by YUNGBLUD and Halsey)

So, this fanfic is inspired on this post (you have no idea how long it took me to have a link that included all the reblogs). Of course I got a little very carried away and it turned 4 pages long. Oh well, I hope it lives up to your expectations, @princess-of-fandom!! The quote at the end is part of this post by @dylanholyhellobrien. With all the credits given, enjoy!! (if you feel like the improper credits were given, be sure to dm me, I don’t mind at) 

PS: I don’t have ao3 hence why I post it here. If you want to post it anywere, ao3 or fanfiction.net, on behalf of me, you can, but please give the proper credits and message me so that I can check it out :)

Unedited (I tried my best, but English isn’t my native language.) 

The contours of the trees that lined the horizon finally regained shape under the guidance of the first sun rays. In the dead of the night, the huts, tents and trees had blotched together with the sky to assemble ill-proportioned shadows that made Thomas’s heartbeats rise to feverish heights.  

The hammock wobbled as he swung his legs over the edge to find solid ground. He steadied himself against the stripped bark of the pole and counted his breaths until they were calm and measured. 

“Beautiful, huh?” Minho said when he noticed Thomas’ gaze on the horizon. His face finally started to lose the last traces WCKD’s experiment. The light in his eyes has returned in full force and gone was the ghostly white sheen on his cheeks. 

Thomas didn’t share the sentiment. “It’s too alike.” 

Minho sighed. “But it will never be the same.” There was one thing that still seemed in WCKD’s possession; the fire that lingered in his friend’s voice, the kind that used to deliver his characteristic snarky comments tirelessly. Or perhaps it wasn’t WCKD that took it. 

They watched as the sun climbed higher and higher and other immunes starting to appear from their tents. A couple people Thomas had befriended during the course of the first few weeks greeted them as they strolled by. 

“You’re hungry?” Minho, who still by his side, jerked his chin over to where Frypan was preparing what seemed to be a thick soup. Just when Thomas was about to say no, hunger hit him like a punch in the gut. 

“Yeah, sure.” He ignored the relieved look his friend shot him. 

The familiar sound of pots and pans scraping against the metal of spoon and knife like tools reached them, Frypan looked up and tossed them a wave.

“Saved something for you, shanks.” 

A bowl with soup was thrust into his hands. Thomas brought it to his lips, avoiding the chipped edges. It tasted like wet ashes in his mouth, something frequent when it came to food, but it was better than nothing. He smiled and nodded at Fry before wiping his mouth.  

After breakfast, he and Minho headed to fields. As one of the first things to establish, it started to become larger day by day. 

Soon, it will be bigger than the gardens in the Glade. 

That was like another punch in the gut. Thomas staggered on his feet. The only thing that kept him spiraling down to the ground was the smooth weight of the necklace. It was all he had. Whenever his heart would be choked by grief, unable to beat any longer, Thomas’d swear the necklace started beating instead, reminding him of his friend’s wishes. You deserve to be happy. 

“Are you okay?” Minho’s face swam into focus. Thomas managed to respond with a shaky nod. 

“Yeah... yeah, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m... fine.” The last word needed to be wrenched of his tongue but he was glad that his voice didn’t crack. To strengthen his reassurance, Thomas grabbed a shovel and set to work. 

The day gliding by, like a boat on the peaceful water. Large campfires were howling their scorching anguish to the night sky as people gathered around them. Thomas watched as the workers started to leave the fields, collecting the shovels in various bins of all shapes and sizes that stood near the entrances. 

One of the boys who had worked alongside him walked past him. Upon noting that Thomas was still rooted in the same spot, he freed himself from the group. 

“We’re roundin’ up, Tommy.” 

Tommy. The moment he closed his eyes, he was back in the maze-like realms of his mind. Where memories piled up on top of memories to create the walls and ivy sealing them away from focus. Now they were moving, and the ivy was tearing like wet paper.  

Tommy

“Don’t!” Thomas lurched forward to grab the boy’s shirt, nearly lifting him off his feet. “Don’t,” he repeated. “Don’t ever call me that, only he could!” 

Thomas felt himself being janked away by someone. Other people entered from the side of his blurred vision, crowding him and the other boy.  He lowered his eyes to the ground. A hand clamped around his shoulder for the second time this day. 

“Allright, slim it everyone.” Minho’s voice topped that of the other’s as he stood besides Thomas, with his hand still on his back. The murmur remained among the immunes as their gaze drifted from Thomas to the shell-shocked boy, whose eyes already harboured a faint understanding. 

“Okay.” Minho muttered once the crowd had settled down. Thomas could feel his friend’s gaze tracing the edges of his face. “Thomas, what happened, man?”  

“He…” Thomas struggled to catch his breath. “He called me Tommy.” 

“He… what?” Minho blinked stupidly. Like… Like he has forgotten who’d always say that. 

Thomas had already turned around, shrugging his way through the crowd, ignoring Minho’s calls. The blurry remnants of unshed tears dotted his vision as he stumbled down the path. The soft earth underneath his feet turned into the fine sand of the beach. Large waves were smashed against the sides of the ship while others reached the shore, dumping their foamy residue in the sand before retreating again. 

He pursued his trek along the beach. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see the smoke of fire trying to reach for the moon until they were shattered and dispersed by the wind. The sound of laughter was drowned out by that of the waves as Thomas neared a large rock formation. Amidst the asymmetrical blocks of grey sat a black, rounded stone with a name notched into it. Upon coming closer you could see delicate leaves carved underneath the name. 

Thomas didn’t know when he stopped visiting Newt, but now that he was here, it felt like coming home to an empty house. He sank to his knees while soft sobs wretched themselves past his lips.

Instead of saying something to the boy sleeping beneath the stone, Thomas settled on shifting the sand through his fingers, gathering the grains in small piles besides the grave. Thomas watched the tide change. 

“Thought you’d be here.” Minho took his place next to Thomas.

“Sorry, I just… I just lost my shit when-” 

Minho cut him off. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Clyde’s not mad.” 

Absence of either of their voices left the silence to be filled by the sound of waves and screams of seagulls. 

“Is this a closed meeting or can we join?” Brenda’s voice filled the silence. She, Gally and Frypan were standing behind them, holding a bottle of what seemed to be the drink Gally used to make back in the Glade. 

As an answer, Thomas scooted to one side to make room and together they formed a semi circle around Newt’s grave. The silence was filled by the waves once more while they passed the bottle from hand to hand until it was empty. 

“Do you remember, Gally? When we snuck into Fry’s pantry to steal some jam and using it to dye Newt’s hair?” Minho suddenly asked. 

Between a couple snorts of laughter Gally managed to muster a nod. 

“So it was you?” Frypan gave both of them an incredulous look. Thomas could laughter bubbling from his lips. 

“Why did I never hear of this story?” 

Gally shrugged. “Newt can be pretty scary when he places a knife on your throat in the middle of the night…” The grumpy faced blond shuddered.  

“At least he got the jam out.” Fry muttered. 

“Not completely, though,” Thomas could feel a grin making its way on his face. “I remember when coming up in the box, Newt’s hair had this pink shine.” 

Each story or memory that came afterwards earned round of loud laughter. Brenda, at some point, went back to the camp to get some more drinks and the laughter went on. 

You deserve to be happy. Maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t as far away as Thomas thought. 

“If there is a reason why I’m still alive when everyone who loves me has died, I’m willing to wait for it.” 

[bluffbomb]

Fic - Warm Water

Bruno Bucciarati/Leone Abbacchio

R18

I hope you like it ♥

Construction noises stirred Bruno from his sleep. The clanking of metal on metal and loud beeps from reversing machines made him frown at the window of their hotel room. He could tell it was cloudy by how the light coming from the window looked gray and dreary. He thought because it had snowed so heavily the night before, the builders wouldn’t be working, especially not this early in the morning. Bruno rolled his bleary eyes over to the alarm clock, blinking a few times to see clearly.

7:00 a.m.

Come hell or high water he supposed. Too bad he was a light sleeper and would never be able to get back to sleep with all this noise. A drill ground hard into the earth and he sighed, the sweet wisps of sleep fully leaving him. He hadn’t got much sleep last night to begin with, so this was more than disappointing. He tiredly rubbed his eyes, causing the blankets to slip and reveal his bare chest. He shivered, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill in the room. The space heater in the corner was working hard but was no match for the biting cold.

He deserved it in a way. It was his choice to go to Milan in the winter, his choice to book their stay at a historic hotel. He could have done this trip on their anniversary, when the weather was nice, and they could enjoy the view from their room. Though, this trip was mostly to introduce his mother and half-siblings to the love of his life, and because that love was a man, he didn’t want a possibly crushing reaction during such a happy time for them.

However, with hindsight, he could see he was just being overly cautious. His mother had met Leone the first night they arrived and was absolutely smitten with him after dinner. She’d even bought him several pieces of jewelry that Bruno didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t wear. She was just happy to see Bruno had someone that loved him, and that made all fear and trepidation melt away and yes, he absolutely cried.

A shame his father couldn’t meet him, but Bruno knew he’d like him, too. His father would probably take them out on his boat and pop a bottle of prosecco to celebrate. Probably would have given Leone one of those crushing bear hugs that Bruno missed so much. A body shivering next to him stole his attention from his thoughts. “S’cold,” Leone murmured, tiredly grasping at the sheets. When they slipped off of Bruno, they must have slipped off Leone as well. When he finally found the hem, he made a fist of the sheets and brought them up to his nose.

Leone could sleep through anything. Fire alarms, bulldozers, the rapture. Anything. Bruno genuinely envied him for it, how he could just fall asleep when his head hit the pillow, how even an ice cube down his shirt only resulted in half-hearted reaching. He knew that because he tried it. “Leone,” Bruno said softly. If he had to lay awake, he at least wanted some company.

No response. “Leone,” he sang, rolling over to face Leone’s back. He slept almost completely face down, one leg bent and hugging a pillow right under his chin. Bruno thought that was so cute. “Leone,” he whispered, sliding an arm over his back. This time, Bruno got a deep exhale. One a horse would make but without sputtering lips “ ‘m tired,” Leone slurred, not moving a muscle.

“I can’t sleep,” Bruno whispered, snuggling closer to the warm body next to him. “Mm,” Leone replied, probably not even awake. “Talk to me,” Bruno whispered. Nothing. Bruno pouted, rolling onto his stomach and leaning up on his elbows. He gazed down at his boyfriend, his face almost fully obscured by a veil of silky silver hair. Without his makeup, Leone looked so youthful, truly looked his age. Bruno could see the faint dusting of freckles on the bridge of his straight, sharp nose, plush dusty pink lips that were parted just the slightest bit.

Long black lashes rested atop marble carved cheekbones. He was magnificent, angelic even. Even in sleep, he must have felt Bruno staring and slowly cracked one sparkling eye open halfway to look at him. “What?” he mumbled. “You’re pretty,” Bruno replied, caressing a few strands of hair away from his face. Leone didn’t reply, but Bruno knew he’d roll his eyes if he had the energy. He didn’t have much capacity for compliments and was probably maxed out from all the praise his mother had showered onto him.

Bruno leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his shoulder, letting his lips linger for a moment. He loved this man so much, sometimes his heart couldn’t take it when he thought about it. Leone huffed but didn’t move away. “It’s cold and I’m tired,” he said, voice less heavy with sleep. Bruno smiled against his shoulder, his plan was working. He grazed his teeth over the spot he’d kissed, making Leone exhale again. This time he swatted half-heartedly at the spot he thought Bruno was in and groaned. “It’s cold, baby, let me sleep,” he said, closing his eyes.

Baby. Bruno loved little pet names like that, but Leone usually only used them in times like this, when he was too tired to feel embarrassed by them. Bruno caught his hand mid swat and brought the knuckles to his lips. “Don’t be mean,” he said against the smooth knuckles. Leone’s hands were surprisingly soft, much like the rest of him. He put on a tough front, he had to in his line of work. And it worked, people were terrified of him, most people didn’t even look him in the eyes when speaking to him.

But Bruno knew him, he knew that under that front, Leone was just a big, ooey-gooey softy. Leone let out a defeated sigh, knowing he wasn’t beating Bruno’s persistence. He rolled onto his back, bringing up one hand to rub his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, a tiny bit of bite to the words. “Good morning, Leone,” Bruno said. Leone could hear the smile in his voice.

“What time is it?” he asked once he fully opened his eyes. Bruno glanced over his shoulder to the clock before looking back at Leone. “7:15,” he said simply. “Jesus,” Leone sighed, letting his hand cover his eyes. “Don’t fall back asleep!" Bruno commanded playfully, tugging on Leone’s hand to bring him closer. “It’s the crack of fucking dawn,” Leone whined. “And it’s cold,” he added, still letting himself be pulled by Bruno. “Well then come here and cuddle me and we’ll warm up,” Bruno whispered teasingly. Leone didn’t fight being pulled to the middle of the bed, if anything he helped by scooting himself over.

“Baby, it’s so early,” he croaked, scooting into a half-sitting position, his shoulders touching the headboard. He hissed at the cold contact but didn’t flinch from it. “I know, the construction woke me up and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” Bruno pouted, deeply and dramatically at his boyfriend.  This earned him the tiniest smile and an even tinier laugh. “Princess can’t sleep with a pea under her mattress,” he mocked lovingly.

“So now what?” Leone asked through a yawn, stretching his arms and letting one fall to wrap around Bruno’s shoulders. “Smooth,” Bruno teased. Leone clicked his tongue and winked, reaching to the end table on his side for a glass of water. “I was thinking I could order room service for us, since the kitchen opens at six.” Leone tilted his head and stuck out his lower lip at the suggestion, clearly thinking about it. “Sounds like a good idea, what do they serve?” Bruno shrugged and went to search for the menu on his end table. Once acquired, he snuggled back into Leone and pulled his arm around his shoulders again.

Leone stroked two fingers up and down Bruno’s arm absentmindedly, as if it was just natural to do so. Bruno hummed while scanning the menu. “Feta and cremini omelet with a side of sausage.” Leone considered it silently. “Spicy sausage and spinach frittata, apple or cherry cornettos with a side of fruit or fried egg toast with two sausages or prosciutto on the side.” Leone contemplated the options silently, sipping his water and scanning over the menu in Bruno’s hands.

“I’ll get the toast with sausage,” he said finally, putting his glass back down. He picked up his phone and checked it silently, his fingers now making circles on Bruno’s shoulder. “I’m thinking I’d like the omelet,” Bruno said, reaching over to pick up the phone and order. The kitchen staff took the order quickly, giving them an estimate of fifteen minutes for it to be ready. “And now we just wait,” Bruno said, rolling back over to smile at his boyfriend. “What should we do today?” Bruno asked, tracing small shapes on Leone’s chest. “Nothing, I checked the weather on my phone. It’s gonna look like shit all day.”

Bruno frowned. “But this hotel is really nice, lots of historical things we can look at and read,” Leone added, trying to cheer him up. “True,” Bruno affirmed, taking a strand of Leone’s hair and twirling it between his fingers. Leone pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered against his skin. “I’ve had a lot of fun, even if we’ve been snowed in for two days. I got to spend it with you.” With his words, the temperature in the room didn’t matter, Bruno was melting in Leone’s arms. “Meeting your mom was fun.” Bruno hummed a reply. “And your siblings are nice.” “Yeah, I don’t know them very well, though,” Bruno sighed.

“Seeing where you grew up was cool.” Bruno smiled but didn’t reply. Leone could tell his mind was wandering and wanted to bring him back to the moment.

“I love you,” Leone said, placing another kiss on his forehead before squeezing him against his body. “I love you, too,” Bruno replied, kissing Leone’s chin. That got him an actual smile and he was definitely melting now. Leone had such a beautiful smile. It wasn’t a catalog smile or an ear to ear smile, but it was sincere and rare. Bruno loved it so much. Loved Leone so much. “Kiss me,” Bruno said, pulling Leone in closer. “But I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” he protested. “I don’t care,” Bruno replied. When their lips brushed against each other, Bruno sighed in something close to relief.

When it finally turned into a kiss, he sighed in actual relief. Leone’s lips were petal-soft and pillowy, addicting in how they moved with expertise against his own. He was such a good kisser. His nibbles were never too hard unless requested, he used his tongue just enough to flick over Bruno’s lips and make him dizzy, and pulled away to make Bruno chase his lips, kissing the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

Bruno rolled on top of him, slithering his arms around his shoulders to pull him deeper into the kiss. Leone put one hand on the small of his back and the other right under the curve of his bottom. He slid that hand up and down Bruno’s thigh, squeezing it gently every now and then. When he smoothed his hand to the cheek of his ass and squeezed, it reminded him of a very important fact. They were naked.

Still bare from their attempt at tired, half-drunk sex the night before. They hadn’t got passed kissing before deciding to just take a shower and go to bed, not even bothering to get dressed for bed. At 22 and 23, they were getting old and domestic. When Leone gave it a little smack, Bruno yelped in surprise before giggling into the kiss. Leone smoothed over where he smacked with a kind of care that made Bruno weak. He was so sweet, too sweet sometimes. “A little early for spanking,” Bruno whispered against Leone’s lips. “Can’t help it, it’s so nice it was asking for it,” he replied, nipping at Bruno’s bottom lip and pulling a little bit. Bruno shivered, kissing Leone again with more force. He moaned into their kiss when Leone used his strong arms to squeeze Bruno against his body.

“I’ve missed you,” Leone whispered, pulling away to trail kisses on Bruno’s neck. Bruno tilted his head back, smiling as Leone sucked on his pulse point. “I’ve been here the whole time,” Bruno sighed playfully. “You know what I mean,” Leone said, his voice carrying a hint of seriousness. He squeezed Bruno against him and let out a small grunt when his thigh pressed into his semi-erection. Bruno grinned, no wonder Leone was being so affectionate this morning.

Calling him baby and being so touchy, so receptive to his teasing and to waking him up so early. “Oh,” Bruno cooed. He leaned up and looked down at Leone who was just the slightest bit flushed. Bruno was always amazed at how pale he could get this time of year. “First thing you want in the morning is me?” he asked, feigning surprise. Leone just bit his lip, letting his hands wander to Bruno’s hips and squeezing. “I always want you,” Leone whispered, his honesty making Bruno feel guilty for teasing him. “But I can’t always have you, at least not without embarrassing you” he added, a hint of mischief in his voice “Well, you have me, now, don’t you?” Bruno taunted.

Leone didn’t respond, but his raised brow said everything his words didn’t. “I guess I do. Right where I want you,” Leone said finally, his hands coming to Bruno’s chest and tracing the filigree of his tattoo. “But do I have you, Leone?” Bruno asked, mostly so he could look Leone in the eyes to see those sparkling lavender gems again. He could get lost in those eyes, as corny as it sounded. They were so expressive, so vulnerable in a way that made Bruno want to cherish the times where they just looked at each other.

“You always do.” He leaned up to kiss Bruno again, but Bruno leaned away, squinting and smiling at Leone. “Even now?” Leone’s lips parted. “Especially now,” he replied. “Then,” Bruno started, walking two fingers up his chest, stopping to tap the tip of his nose. “Can I do it?” Leone blinked a few times before his face flushed pink with the realization. “I-I don’t know,” he said, averting his gaze. “You know I’m not that great at it.” Bruno fought back the urge to giggle at Leone’s shyness. “You’re amazing at it, love. You just don’t relax enough,” he said, placing a kiss on the tip of Leone’s nose.

“It hurts,” Leone grumbled in his defense. “I know, my love, I know. It’s gonna hurt at first, or at the first couple of times when you get started.” Leone looked everywhere except Bruno’s eyes. “Your size doesn’t help,” Leone grumbled again. Bruno winked, even though he knew Leone probably didn’t see it. “But I’m always gentle,” Bruno said softly, dipping his head to tease his lips over Leone’s collarbone. “That’s true,” Leone breathed, tilting his head back to give Bruno more access. “And I’ve only put it in you twice the whole time we’ve been together, so it’s normal that it’s still…” Bruno searched his mind for a word that was accurate but not crude.

“…a snug fit,” he finished. Leone pressed his lips together, thinking carefully on his words. “I have thought about it,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. Bruno’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?” he asked excitedly. His excitement must have embarrassed Leone, as his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “Yeah,” he affirmed quietly. He cleared his throat. “The times that we’ve done it, when we’d find our rhythm it would feel really good.” He took a breath and looked at Bruno dead on. “It’s nice…being full of you. I get to be close to you in a…such a special way. I like it.” It was Bruno’s turn to blush, and he did. Hard. “Just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much,” Leone added, laughing lightly.

That was partly Bruno’s fault. He had less experience than Leone and had rushed through stretching him those times. He’d gotten so worked up, he overestimated how prepared Leone was. It was selfish, and he felt immense guilt when Leone would wince and grit his teeth as he accepted him inside. Thankfully though, Bruno had been doing research and had found something he could do that both let him get worked up while working Leone as well. He just had to tell Leone what it was. Or show him.

“Well,” Bruno began. He had clearly piqued Leone’s interest, as he leaned up onto his elbows when Bruno sat back on his heels. “I’ve thought of a way to get you…more accommodated.” He grinned at the way Leone’s breathing got shallow. “I’ve thought about doing it many times, I just worry about how you’ll react.” This caused Leone to furrow his brows. “You’re not talking about putting your fist in my ass, right?” Bruno couldn’t help but sputter out a laugh. “No, honey, no!” he giggled, placing his hands on Leone’s chest. “What I’m thinking of is a lot gentler than that. It’s just…different from anything we’ve done.”

“Oh,” Leone said with relief before taking in a deep breath. “What is it?” he asked shyly. Bruno turned his head coyly. “It’s a surprise. I want to see your natural reaction to it. Sometimes you try to please me too much, even when you’re uncomfortable.” Leone mumbled something inaudible and glanced over Bruno’s shoulder.

“As long as you’re not putting a fist in my ass or anything with feet, I’m willing to try it.” Bruno let out another laugh. “It’s definitely neither of those,” he assured with a kiss. “I think you’ll like it. It’s different but not in a weird way. And if you don’t like it, you can always tell me.” Leone pursed his lips to the side, and Bruno could see the gears in his mind moving as he was considering it. He chewed on his bottom lip before letting out a breath. “Okay. I’ll try it. I trust you,” he said. Bruno’s heart swelled so big, he didn’t think his chest could contain it.

The confidence and vulnerability Leone extended to him was truly something special, something to be cherished. Just like Leone. “I’ll make it worth it,” Bruno whispered, coming in for another kiss. This time their kiss was different. It was hungry and wild. Leone pushed his tongue into Bruno’s mouth and licked urgently into it. His hand went to Bruno’s throat and he rested his fingertips there, keeping himself grounded and present in the moment. It was easy to float out of his body when Bruno kissed him like this. Bruno moaned when Leone smacked his ass hard and squeezed after he did so. Their tongues danced together, moving and sliding with practiced and delicious rhythm.

Bruno kissed like he was going to die of thirst, sucking on Leone’s tongue with urgency and desire. Leone was no better, kissing desperately at Bruno’s cheeks and chin when he pulled away to breathe. Bruno slid his hands into Leone’s silky mane and pulled him closer, deepening their already passionate kiss. He was getting dizzy, needing more air than their kiss allowed, but he wouldn’t pull away, he needed Leone’s mouth on his just a little longer. His lungs stung with neglect, but it didn’t seem to matter. They broke apart with a shared gasp and without skipping a beat, Bruno’s mouth found Leone’s neck and he sucked hard at the joining of his throat and jaw, knowing that was one of Leone’s many secret soft spots. Leone made the most beautiful sigh when he grazed his teeth over it. “You know too much about me,” Leone breathed, smirking as he gazed down at Bruno. He smiled against his skin and laughed softly, lapping at the pink mark he left. Leone closed his eyes, relaxing into the feeling of Bruno’s mouth as it left wet, opened mouth kisses down his neck and over his collarbones and chest.

Bruno used his teeth to gently scrape the skin he kissed, staring up at Leone in wonder at his beauty. In these moments, he was convinced this man was divine. The muscles in his neck and chest flexed and fluttered under the taut, opalescent skin as he arched from Bruno’s kisses. His platinum hair seemed to gleam like precious metal against the flat white of their bedsheets, splaying behind him in a corona. When those plush, perfectly shaped lips parted, Bruno was convinced he’d hear hymns and chants to a higher power. The dim sunlight that filtered in through the clouds and curtains glinted off Leon’s fine, silver body hair when he sighed and shuddered. He was glowing, blessed and highly favored as Bruno’s mouth kissed lower and lower.

If it wasn’t for the low, raspy curses coming from Leone, and the whistle of hard wind against their window, Bruno would have believed he was making love to an angel. He was so lucky to have Leone. His hips flexed as Bruno’s mouth stilled just below his navel. “You’re staring at me, babe,” he said, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Bruno, still dazed by the seraph looking down at him, didn’t replay. Instead, he licked a long, slow stripe up the defined v of his hips. They flexed again and Leone cursed low and raspy once more, resenting how close but still how far Bruno’s mouth was from his straining manhood. Tanzanite colored eyes narrowed in suspicion at him, but in this moment, Bruno could only use his mouth for worship rather than words. He licked up, then rounded back down to the other side, sucking and nipping as he reached near the base of Leone’s swollen column.

Their eyes stayed locked onto each other, one contemplating while the other stared in devotion. “I love you,” Bruno whispered, the words feeling so good coming out of his mouth. Leone pressed his lips together to hold something back, probably another curse. “And I’m going to make you feel so good,” he said, letting his eyes flutter closed as he kissed a velvety smooth thigh. He felt Leone shudder against his lips, and it made his veins thrum under his skin. Leone had more stamina than he did, always lasted longer than he did.

But this morning, Bruno was going to use everything he had to send his personal deity straight into the arms of ecstasy. He spoiled himself when kissing up and down Leone’s strong, smooth thighs, leaving pink splotches and faint teeth marks as he silently praised the skin. He relished in the feeling of those thick muscles flexing and the sounds of Leone’s groans and breathless compliments. Bruno could tell by the way his hips were jolting, Leone was trying to control himself, trying to behave as he was getting pampered. “You’re so beautiful,” Bruno said, opening his eyes and kissing the crook of Leone’s knee. Leone broke their shared gaze, his blush deepening.

Leone had a hard time receiving praise, always too humble or too sad to listen or take it to heart. “I mean it,” Bruno said gently, moving his head so their eyes met. “I know you do,” he said, a small smile breaching his otherwise stoic expression. Bruno kissed his thigh again, nipping it hard enough to get Leone to look at him. “Let me make you feel good, Leone. Let me show you how much I love you.” His blush got even darker. He pressed his lips in a tight thin line, then let his shoulders drop in agreement. He plopped flat against the mattress and exhaled. “You’re too much for me sometimes, Bruno,” he said, hoping his lover could hear the smile in his voice.

“I only give what I think is deserved. And you deserve to be spoiled.” Leone’s thigh twitched when he nipped it again. “I’m going to spoil you so much, you have no clue,” Bruno said, mostly to himself. That earned him a breathless little laugh from Leone, and it made his heart jump. He was so cute, and he didn’t even try. “Gonna treat me like a good little pillow prince?” Leone teased. “Mhm, I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t be able to think about anything else,” he replied, planting an open-mouthed kiss on Leone’s hip. “I’ll even buy you a crown,” he teased back.

“Well I definitely want the crown,” Leone sighed, doing his best not to buck as Bruno’s mouth got agonizingly close to his still painfully straining and unattended member.

“That mouth is dangerous,” he rasped, leaning up onto his elbows to get a better view. Bruno smirked against his skin, nibbling the inside of his knee. “Just you wait, I’m only warming you up,” he replied, cupping the undersides of Leone’s knees and folding him over, nearly in half. The confident, almost taunting look on Leone’s face turned to one of surprise and confusion. “Hold your legs like this for me, baby,” Bruno purred, smoothing the backs of Leone’s thighs with his fingertips. He hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing quickly, then setting back into a pensive expression. He snaked his fingers over Bruno’s and swallowed audibly.

“It will feel good, I promise,” Bruno said, mouth on the back of his thigh just below the swell of his buttocks. “Okay,” Leone breathed, both trust and trepidation in his voice. He hugged his legs tighter, mostly in a form of self-protection. “Close your eyes and just feel it,” Bruno commanded in the softest way he could. Leone squinted, then obeyed, slipping his eyes shut with a sigh. Now it was Bruno’s turn to be nervous. He’d never done this before, only seen it in porn and read about it in books. How would he know if he was doing it right? Was there even a right way to do it? Was there a wrong way to do it?

Does he just…go for it? Does he stick his tongue in? What does it taste like? What happens if it turns out to be too extreme for them both? Bruno sighed, letting his mouth linger on Leone’s thigh, flicking his tongue to give it something to do. He’d just have to trust his instincts, use his experience and the conversations he’d had with others to his advantage.

Leone cleared his throat impatiently and Bruno knew he had to move. Slowly, Bruno gave the cheeks of Leone’s ass the same treatment as his thighs. Sucking, nipping, kissing and licking the creamy skin until Leone was twitching and jolting again. He was becoming painfully aroused, Bruno could tell by how his sounds were going from raspy sighs to quivering moans. He couldn’t torture his angel like this any longer.

He placed a small kiss on the swell of Leone’s scrotum, smoothing his tongue over it to give himself confidence for what he was about to do. Leone’s hips jumped and he huffed out a little moan from the brief contact, his fingers pressing hard into the back of his knees. His trust in Bruno had him keeping his eyes closed, making him unaware of the way Bruno chewed on his lips nervously. “Ready, Leone?” he asked, mostly for himself.

“Mhm,” was all he received, but he could hear the shakiness in Leone’s voice. With a final deep breath, Bruno gently spread Leone open and let his tongue slide down from his sack and over his entrance with the most confident lick he could muster. A sharp gasp cut through Bruno’s anxious thoughts. “Fuck!” Leone whined, bucking hard against Bruno’s mouth. He whined. Bruno had never heard him sound like that before and licked again to see if it had been real. Leone whined wordlessly this time, taking his swollen lower lip between his teeth. Bruno was both in awe and relieved.  Leone tasted like nothing if anything it tasted like his soap.

He also seemed to be enjoying himself more than he ever had. “Keep going,” he panted, his eyelids slowly lifting to reveal needy, dilated pupils. Bruno hadn’t realized he’d stopped. Hadn’t realized he was staring at Leone again. “Please,” Leone whimpered, tilting his head in the most heartachingly submissive way. Bruno nodded quickly, snapping out of his trance. He stuck his tongue out again and licked long, up and down strokes and Leone was whining again. Bruno pressed his tongue flat, smoothing it slowly and deliberately over Leone, reciprocating the moans he was freely letting out of his beautiful lips.

God, those sounds were so beautiful from him, so guttural and so primal. So different from the short grunts and reserved groans he’d become accustomed to. Those were beautiful in their own way, but the sounds Leone was making now were absolutely dizzying. Ringing between his ears like the songs of cherubs. Bruno was hooked, addicted to the way his lover fought to catch his breath as he lapped at him. He was so happy he chose to do this, so happy to make Leone feel good like this.

He moaned against him, feeling bold enough, drunk enough on Leone’s sounds to try something else, something more. Without warning, he stilled his licks at Leone’s entrance, pointed his tongue and dipped it inside.

Leone seized, his body locking up as a sharp gasp cut off any sound that would have come out of his throat. It was so quick, less than a second, but Bruno had brought Leone to the brink with a push of his tongue. “Good god!” Leone choked out, thrashing as Bruno lapped inside of him, his thighs shaking in his grip. “What the fuck?” he huffed, more in disbelief than anything else. His cock was leaking now, so swollen that the tip seemed to glow a dark fuchsia against his pale skin. He bucked and whined sharply, and Bruno was convinced he was with an angel.

He felt encouraged to go further, living for Leone’s sounds. He wanted to up the ante, increase Leone’s pleasure and tried something else. He fluttered his eyes closed and sealed his lips around Leone, sucking gently. This earned him a gorgeous throaty moan, and he thanked his heart for not stopping. “Holy shit, baby!” Leone growled through gritted teeth, bucking hard and squeezing his own legs so firmly the skin around his fingers turned white. He’d leave bruises on himself, squeezing like that, but Bruno could see Leone wouldn’t care. He’d probably be proud of them. His eyes were squeezed shut and his brows furrowed desperately. Bruno couldn’t smile or talk, but he was beaming inside and would be praising Leone if he could.

Slowly, he crept his hand over, lifting his mouth off Leone just enough to slip a finger inside of him. He locked up again, his back curving beautifully off the mattress. “Does this feel good, Leone?” Bruno asked softly, eyes just as desperate as the man panting underneath him. “Y-Yeah,” was all Leone could stammer out, sucking in a breath when Bruno added another finger. “I want your mouth on me again,” he panted quickly, saying it like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Please, Bruno, I-,” Leone tossed his head back, a moan cutting off his words as Bruno’s mouth made a seal around him again. “Thank you,” he breathed, letting his chest sink with another moan.

If Bruno could talk, he would have told Leone not to thank him, but he chose to keep working him open instead. He alternated between sucking, licking and thrusting his tongue inside Leone, adding another finger and earning both cries and growls from the folded man beneath him. The way Leone’s eyes would roll back made Bruno’s whole body vibrate with love and devotion and painful arousal. Leone was having such a good time, Bruno was making him feel so good that he couldn’t even put words together. His curses disappeared under gasps and Bruno’s name turned into a drawn-out hymn.

When he added a third finger, he pushed deep enough to press Leone’s prostate and he all but screamed, his already raspy voice growing hoarse from his cries. “Bruno, I-I…fuck I’m.” Leone’s hands left his legs and balled into fists, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe and moan. Bruno continues his ministrations, thrusting his fingers and tongue in and out of Leone with unwavering vigor. Leone growled and threw his head back, trying to make words but only managing broken syllables, slurring the sounds together.

Then Bruno noticed a change. Leone’s sounds were becoming short, high pitched, cut off and louder than before. He’d never heard Leone make noises like these. His bucking turned into hard rocking against Bruno’s mouth and his eyes watered when he opened them. It was too late when Bruno thought about stopping.

“Oh god, o-oh shit!” Leone stuttered. His body locked up again, then trembled and twitched. His loud, rumbling moan shook Bruno’s skull as it escaped gritted teeth. His body shook violently as he panted and whimpered. His legs dropped limply, and his watery eyes blinked several times, still in awe. “Bruno, honey… what the fuck?” he deflated, his pulsing member dripping with his release. Honey. There was another little term of endearment that let Bruno know he’d done a great job.

 Bruno’s eyes widened. “You came?” he asked, probably with too much excitement. Leone let out a huff of disbelief, half-lidded eyes looking seriously into sapphires that gleamed with happiness. Leone only had enough energy to smirk. “Yeah. Real hard,” he panted.

They shared small laughs before Leone flopped down, splaying out like a starfish on their bed. Bruno crawled over quickly and sat between Leone’s spread legs. “I told you that you’d like it,” he gloated. Leone just waved him his defeat, body too spent and mind still reeling to put up any kind of fight. “I thought I was gonna pass out,” he admitted, a small blush creeping over his already flushed cheeks. “Oh yeah?” Bruno taunted. “Yeah,” Leone affirmed, finally opening his eyes to look at Bruno.

It took everything in Bruno’s power not to gasp.

“I still have so much more I want to do with you, you know,” Bruno said. Leone’s cheeks flushed deep and rosy at his words, recalling the pact they’d made earlier. “Right,” he mumbled. Bruno smirked, rising from the bed and stretching his long, elegant limbs. “I’m going to brush my teeth first, though. I can’t imagine being inside you and not being able to kiss you.” Bruno made an effort to purr out his words, making sure they sounded as sensual and tempting as possible. “R-Right,” Leone repeated, stumbling over the word this time.

He was so cute when he was flustered. “Do you still want it, love?” Bruno asked, looking at him a little more seriously, which was so hard to do because Leone looked heaven-sent. His cheeks dewy and pink, lips swollen and almost red from kissing and biting into them. “Yes,” Leone said, voice confident and unwavering. “But.” Bruno raised his brows.

“You promise to be gentle?” Leone asked in a near whisper. They both stilled, feeling their shared nervousness in the air. “Of course,” Bruno affirmed. He scooted closer, draping his arms around Leone’s shoulders and gazing down at him, letting all his sincerity and devotion speak through his stare. Leone Abbacchio, the hardened ex-cop turned gangster, was the biggest softy Bruno had ever met, and he adored him for it.

“I’m going to make such good love to you, baby. I’ll have you moaning and shaking from how good it’ll feel.” Bruno kissed Leone’s forehead, combing a hand through his thick hair. “You won’t be able to say anything besides yes and please, more. I’ll make sure of it.” Leone's lips quivered in an attempt to grin. “Yeah?” he asked shakily. “You’ll make me beg?” Leone tilted his head playfully, wanting to join in on the fun, even with his shaky, nervous voice.

Bruno clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No. No begging. You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to feel good.” Leone looked away, his blush growing hotter on his face. Bruno brought a hand to cup his cheek and he took it and brought it to his lips, kissing his palm and sighing. “Let me make you feel good, Leone.” Leone’s blush got even darker. He pressed his lips harder into Bruno’s palm, doing his best to maintain eye contact. “You’re gonna kill me, saying things like that.”

Bruno shook his head. “No, I’m gonna make you feel so good, Leone. So good.” Leone pressed his lips together and Bruno could see his thoughts working behind his eyes, then a smirk replaced his pensive expression. He placed Bruno’s hand back on his cheek. “Yeah, but I might die from the shock.” Bruno grinned. “You mean the ecstasy?” he corrected, playing into Leone’s game. “Whichever comes first.” Bruno snickered. “You can’t die yet though, you don’t have your crown.”

Leone gasped in false surprise. “You’re right! I’ll have to wait till I get my perfect prince tiara.” Bruno’s smile turned gentle and Leone smiled in kind. “You are perfect, that’s for sure,” he said, curling a silver lock around his finger. “Stop it,” Leone laughed, unable to keep his smile from growing wider. “Never,” Bruno said, squinting at Leone.

They both laughed, Bruno tried to hold Leone without getting any of his cold release on his stomach. “Okay,” Leone started, unwrapping his arms from Bruno’s body. “Go brush your teeth so we can make out. And bring me a towel, please.” Bruno kissed Leone’s forehead one final time before hopping off the bed. “Yes, your majesty,” he teased. Leone laced his fingers together behind his head, making a show of eyeing Bruno up and down, watching him with hungry eyes as he walked to the bathroom. He bit his lip as his mouth curved into a smile.

“Where did you learn to that?” Leone called from the bed. Bruno leaned back to peer through the doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of Leone from the weird angle of the bathroom. “It’s a secret,” he called back, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. He grabbed a towel on his way out and threw it softly at Leone. He caught it and wordlessly began wiping off what hadn’t dried. “Thank for doing this, honey,” Bruno said, taking the towel back from Leone between two fingers and dropping it in the laundry basket.

Leone gave him a weird look as Bruno settled next to him. “For doing what?” Leone asked, turning his body to get a better look at his boyfriend. “For all of this. Letting me do all of this to you, trusting me to be gentle. All of it.” Leone smiled, warm and sweet and Bruno could swear time stopped. “You don’t need to thank me for any of that,” he said softly, pulling Bruno closer. “I love you. I’d let you do anything to me.” Jesus, Leone was really trying to stop his heart, wasn’t he? “Good thing I just want to make you come your brains out tonight.” Leone’s eyes widened in surprise, his smile stretching wider. “I need to let you take the reigns more often,” he mused.

“Right now, you need to let me kiss you,” Bruno replied, cupping Leone’s face and bringing him closer. Leone grunted his agreement and closed the gap between their lips. Their kiss was sweet this time, both taking the time to appreciate each other’s lips and tongue. Bruno stroked Leone’s cheek with his thumb and earned such a delicate sigh it made him whimper in response.

Leone’s hands roamed freely over his body, squeezing and caressing every inch he could get a handful of, pulling Bruno’s thigh over this body for more contact. Bruno’s knee brushed over Leone’s stiffening member and grinned against Leone’s mouth. He reached a hand down and gently pumped the half-hard column, stroking it to full mast. Leone moaned and went close to limp, his lips going slack as he slowly opened his eyes. “You’re so good to me,” he said softly, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I only give what I get,” Bruno replied, kissing Leone’s parted mouth. “I want you to be on top,” he said after a pause. Leone tilted his head and looked at Bruno with confusion. “I thought you wanted to…” his eyes widened, and he grinned wickedly when he put the pieces together.

“You’re so hot, babe,” Leone mused, getting onto his knees and crawling over Bruno to reach for the bottle of lubricant they’d left out from the night before. It was still by the lap where they’d left it, cap popped up. He remembered both of them groaning when he clicked open, realizing how exhausted they were. That couldn’t be farther from the truth now. “Capo wants me on top,” Leone teased, purposely arching his back and sticking out his perfectly sculpted cheeks.

Bruno cracked a hand down hard on one of them and laughed at cute little yelp that left Leone’s lips. “Better hurry up, your Capo wants you right now.” Leone shuffled back over with a devilish grin, throwing his leg over to straddle Bruno, handing him the tiny bottle. “Do you like when I call you that?” Leone asked, his voice sweet with genuine curiosity. He hovered over Bruno’s lap, watching him coat his fingers with anticipation.

It was mostly a courtesy at this point, Bruno had worked him pretty open earlier, but he still appreciated the consideration. “Yeah, a little too much sometimes.” Bruno flicked his eyes up from his fingers to Leone. “Sometimes it can be a distraction.” “Is that why you say, just call me Bucciarati right now?” Leone taunted, already knowing the answer. Bruno tapped Leone’s hip with his clean hand, gesturing Leone to come closer. Leone obeyed, shuffling closer on his knees. “Tell me if it hurts,” Bruno said, softly but with enough seriousness to make Leone answer formally. “Yes, capo.” It was almost like a switch they had in their brains, being able to instantly pick up each other’s moods. Capo only being used to reciprocate the serious tone.

Leone knew Bruno wanted to make him feel good and was serious when it came to lovemaking. He was playful up until the final act. Bruno slid in two fingers easily, fighting the urge to smirk as Leone sighed beautifully above him. “Does that feel good, Leone?” Leone groaned, his voice sounding like a compliment when Bruno said it so sensually like that. Bruno hummed happily, flicking his tongue over Leone’s nipple as he gently worked him carefully. He hadn’t expected to make Leone come earlier and needed to be more cautious if he wanted to last.

“One more,” Leone breathed, slowly rocking himself on Bruno’s fingers. “Anything for you, Leone.” Bruno obliged, slipping a third finger inside and tilting his head to scan Leone’s face for even the slightest discomfort. Leone pushed himself onto Bruno’s fingers with the same caution Bruno used while thrusting his fingers, closing his eyes and licking his lips in concentration. Slow, deliberate and sweet, they both stayed like that for a few moments. When his fingers found Leone’s spot again, he did his best to stroke it enough to watch Leone’s body tremble, but not enough to make him for limp.

“I think I can take it now, Bruno,” Leone panted, opening eyes Bruno hadn’t noticed he closed.  He must have been staring at him again, daydreaming about the love he was about to make to his beautiful, blessed seraph. It was truly Bruno that was blessed to be doing this. “You sure, baby?” Bruno asked softly, stilling his fingers. Leone nodded quickly. “Yeah, I can’t wait anymore.” His eyes locked onto Bruno’s and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. “I want you to fill me up, Capo.” Bruno knew it was a taunt by the grin on Leone’s face but godddamnit, it sounded like his mouth was made just to say his title like that.

Bruno let out a shaky breath and nodded quickly, carefully pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the sheets. He scooted up to sit against the headboard and grabbed Leone’s hips to position him. “Come here,” Bruno said shakily. It was finally happening, he’d fantasized about this for so long. He’d spent many solo missions stroking himself to the thought of something like this and it was happening. Leone moved closer, placing his hands on top of the headboard and leaning up to allow Bruno some room to position them together properly. Leone groaned when he felt the thick tip of Bruno’s cock brush against his entrance, fighting the urge to just sit down on it. Bruno nudged against him again before letting out a deep breath. He pushed in just the slightest, torturous bit, then looked at Leone with commanding blue eyes. “Ride it, Leone.”

“With pleasure,” Leone purred, flipping his hair to one side so elegantly Bruno swore he would faint. Slowly, he lowered himself down onto Bruno’s throbbing, cock, hissing with pleasure as he did. “Ah, this is everything I wanted it to be,” Bruno moaned, eyes fixed at where his body joined Leone’s. Leone grinned above him, silver hair falling around them like a curtain. “Me too,” he said, capturing Bruno’s mouth in a searing kiss. Leone worked himself further down, whimpering when Bruno’s cock rubbed against a particularly sensitive area.

“I love how big you are,” Leone groaned, pressing his forehead to Bruno’s as he finally reached the base, Bruno filling him completely. He lifted his head and Bruno felt dizzy. Leone was a work of art, hand-sculpted by the gods of beauty, and bestowed to the earth as a blessing. An angel of highest, most beautiful order, here to send Bruno off to heaven in the most wonderful way. Or at least, that’s how he felt looking at Leone’s euphoric face. “Leone,” was all he managed to say, moaning it so loudly it shook his skull.

It was the only name he needed to say, the only one he wanted to say. Leone began tot move again, riding Bruno with cautious undulations of his hips. “Oh – Leone – just like that,” Bruno moaned, his head dipping back against the headboard, giving him a view of Leone’s grinning, pleasured expression. Suddenly, Leone slammed himself down onto Bruno, whining and throwing his head back as he did it one more time, then again, and again.

“Leone!” Bruno cried in pleasure and surprise. “I wanted to know what it felt like,” he panted, starting a deliciously harsh pace. “You like doing that so -,” he moaned loudly, using Bruno’s cock to press against his prostate. “I-I had to see what was so good about it.” “How’s it feel?” Bruno gasped as Leone did it again. Leone dropped a hand to Bruno’s throat and nearly burned through him with the intensity of his stare.

“I might get addicted to it.” They grinned at each other. “Let’s hope,” Bruno winked. Words were lost to them when Leone leaned back onto his hands, bracing them between Bruno’s ankles. In this position, Bruno not only got a full view of Leone’s god-like figure, but also a perfect view of where they connected, and he felt dizzy again. Leone began riding Bruno with fervor and desperation, the new angle allowing him to hit his spot over and over without fail. “F-fuck, this feels so good,” Leone moaned, letting his head fall back as he fucked himself on Bruno’s cock. “God, I love it, I-I love it!” Leone cried, his face twisting in ecstasy. Bruno couldn’t reply, only moaning as a response. Leone squeezed him so good, so wonderfully, like he was made for it, like they were made to fit each other perfectly.

Leone was perfect, Bruno didn’t need any more convincing. “I love you, Leone.” Bruno was proud he was able to string that together, his brain foggy and slow with the heavy, burning euphoria wracking through every nerve and vein in his body. His gut twisted, coiled and taut with pleasure. “I love you, I l-love you,” he stammered, his mind forgetting any other words. “L-Leone, I love you!” he cried, reaching out and wrapping his hands around Leone’s slim waist. He sounded like a sap, like a cheesy romance novel, but he couldn’t help it.

“Leone, I-I-,”

“Baby don’t say it anymore! I’ll come if you keep saying it like that!” Leone gasped, his hips staggering in uncoordinated patterns. “I don’t want to come yet. I want more of this,” Leone whined, resentfully slowing down to pace himself. Bruno wanted to obey, wanted just as much to be inside Leone for longer but, damn his release was already shredding him inside and he couldn’t say anything else still, despite knowing other words, could only repeat himself.

“I-I love you, Leone,” Bruno whimpered, thrusting up into Leone. With a growl, Leone, dropped onto his elbows, hoping the shallow angle would allow him to last longer. “B-Baby. I love you,” Bruno moaned. Progress, a new word. “You’re so beautiful, you’re amazing. I love you, I love you so fucking much, Leone!” Leone’s eyes locked onto Bruno’s and he saw something in the man snap. “Fuck it!” Leone growled, leaning back up carefully before grabbing the sides of Bruno’s head, keeping him from looking anywhere else. As if he’d even want to. Leone began slamming down hard onto Bruno, the sound of their skin slapping so lewd and loud, but it didn’t matter.

“Say it,” Leone grunted, his movements erratic and fast. Bruno’s release clawed at his gut, his toes curling to hold off just a little more. Leone had to come first, he had to. “I love you, Leone!” “I love you, too, Bruno,” he breathed, attempting to kiss him but so drunk on ecstasy he licked his cheek instead. Neither of them cared. And the lick seemed to only make it harder for Bruno to hold off. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He reached for Leone’s hips, holding them in place and thrusting into him deep and fast, giving him everything he had left. “Come for me, Leone. Come for your Capo,” Bruno commanded through gritted teeth It was too late, he was already coming. “Goddamnit,” he moaned, feeling himself flood Leone with his seed. Leone grunted helplessly, knowing he was no match for the determination in Bruno’s eyes. “Say it,” he managed to whimper, the final thread holding him from his climax fraying, waiting to snap at Bruno’s words. “Leone, I love you! I fucking love you! I lov-.” A rumbling groan tore through Leone’s throat, his body jerking as he came hard, spurting all over Bruno’s chest. He pumped himself through it, stroking out every last wave of ecstasy before falling forward and crumpling on top of Bruno.

They panted, trying to catch their breath but still wanting to dole out praise as their lungs burned.

“You’re incredible,” Leone barely managed to say.

“You’re divine,” Bruno replied, equally breathless.

Leone wrapped his arms around Bruno’s shoulders and pulled him down as Leone’s flopped onto the mattress. “I know this is corny but…” Leone began, taking a break to pant some more before continuing. “…the only thing I could think the entire time was…how much I love you, and how happy I am to have you.” Bruno wrapped his arms around Leone’s waist and squeezed, turning his head to kiss his neck. “Glad I wasn’t the only one,” he said, smiling against his skin.

He wiggled himself out of Leone’s embrace just enough to lean up and look at him. Opalescent skin flushed and nearly iridescent with sweat, silver hair sticking to his cheek and eyes still hazy, recovering from the rush of pleasure that had shot through him. Bruno sighed. “You’re a gift from the heavens.” They were Bruno’s thoughts, but they came out of Leone’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful, Bruno. You’re making my heart hurt,” Leone said, laughing lightly. Bruno blushed bright red, not expecting such tenderness. Leone was always sweet, but this was a lot, even for him.

“You look like you’re made of gold.” Leone tilted his head, as if to get a better look at him. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you were.” Bruno flopped down next to Leone, reflecting his beaming smile back at him. “I want to say something cute, but I can’t think straight thanks to you.” Leone snorted out a laugh and pulled Bruno closer to him. “You’ve said enough,” he said softly, closing his eyes to rest. “But now I’m hungry. When is the food coming?” Bruno paled, going completely still before scrambling to their door. He whispered a curse as he quickly brought the tray in. “They probably heard us!” he said, not able to hold back laughter. Leone leaned up tiredly and gave a half-smile. “Good for them.” Bruno put the tray down on the bed, crawling next to Leone and scooting up to sit against the headboard. Leone did the same thing, turning on the tv and flipping through channels before landing on a mystery show they both liked.

“It’s cold, but I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m so hungry,” Leone said, his mouth full of food. “It’s our fault it’s cold,” Bruno replied, mouth equally full. He rested his head on Leone’s shoulder when has finished, letting himself ease into the person he loved most. Surprisingly, he felt himself slipping into slumber, despite the construction, the wind, and the tv, Bruno felt his body get heavy with the telltale signs of approaching sleep. He indulged, slipping his eyes shut and drifting, but not before feeling Leone’s lips gently on his and a whispered, “I love you.” Bruno smiled, then gave into sleep.

They could explore the hotel later.

[tcockwood]

From Lockwood to Cockwood

Hi, My name is Tyler.                

I have Schitzophrenia and am a wolf/vampire hybrid.  Growing up, many people knew me as Tyler Lockwood. I was your normal teenage, jock asshole. I had an air of confidence about me that told people I didn’t give two fucks. I had a girlfriend, well two that meant anything anyway. I had friends. I had parents. The usual shit. I also had the Un-usual shit. A family curse of sorts that triggered physically painful transformations. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am a werewolf. But wait..There’s more. I am also part vampire, but I won’t bore you with too many details about that. I have this really bad habit of jerking off into coupons and will basically fuck anything living or inanimate when the mood strikes.

[I look around the room at the widened eyes and blank expressions on the faces of those around me. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I locate the small flask of moonshine and lift it to my lips for a swig. I feel the cool metal touching my warm lips as the liquid slides down my throat in a slow hot burn of comfortable heat.]  

Where was I? Oh! That’s right.. So anyways, I snapped and the mental illness kinda took over. I started drinking more. I mean, who the fuck in this town hasn’t started drinking? Am I right? Half of us started before we were 17. Elena was probably fucking half of them.

[A cackle belts across the room, echoing off the walls.]

Any of you tried coke? Holy fucking shit that stuff will have you bouncing off the walls. I remember this time I snorted a line off this random chick’s ass and…

[I heard a few gasps and someone stood up. “That is ENOUGH! You need to leave right now.” I took another sip of my moonshine and looked around again before I realized where I was.]

Ah shit. My bad, Father Thomas. I thought this was the compulsive masturbators support group.

[A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I stand up and put my flask back into my pocket. Walking toward the door, I turn toward the church goers and shout back.]

You guys ever see a man urinate into the holy water?

[I cackle maniacally, reaching into my pants to pull out my dick and let the stream of piss pour out into the holy water bowl near the door. When I had finished, I Tucked myself back in and ran from the church laughing while a security guard chased after me. The next morning I woke up hung over as usual, Some random chick passed out in the bed next to me. Her blonde hair sprawled across the pillow as I shove her shoulder with a groan.]

Yo. Whatever your name is.. Get the fuck up.

[I give her another shove till she rolls off the bed with a loud thud, groaning before she gets insulted. “What the fuck?” I pull the sheets around me and stand up, locating her clothes and tossing them at her.]

I didn’t say you could crash here. Obviously I was drunk as fuck. Maria will give you Uber money on the way out.

[I wave my hand dismissively then hold my head as I shuffle across the room. My fucking head was throbbing as if there was a high school marching band. Didn’t this chicken head realize that Cockwood doesn’t do Velcro? I’m a one and done kinda guy. Relationships only fuck you up in the head. Look at me. It triggered massive Schitzophrenia the last time I even thought about it. Nope, one and done was how it would be from now on. I climbed over the scattered beer cans and bottles, noting the cocaine left over from my adventures last night on the night stand. I waited for the random bitch to pull on her clothes and leave the house with her purse in tow and the cash Maria gave her for a cab home.  Once the coast was clear and I had showered the headache right outta myself, I had a bloody Mary and scarfed some day old donuts I left on the counter.]

When will I learn? ((That you are an asshole and always will be one?)) Oh here we fucking go again.

[The voice in my head always chimed in with her annoying New Jersey accent to remind me how fucked up I was. Yes, my voice was female and she didn’t care for me much.]

((How’s that head? You sick?)) [I could hear her thumping the walls of my head, speaking loudly in that ridiculous voice of hers.]

Actually, My head feels fine, bitch. Thanks to the Excedrin I took before my shower.. ((Ya know what would be fun? Huh?? Do you wanna know, Fuck face?)) [I took a bottle of tequila from the freezer, lifting it to my lips. Cold liquor was gliding down my throat, warming my insides. This was always a welcome feeling when the PM would start her shit.] ((You should see a therapist and work out your stupidity so I would be able to rest for a change. Dick.)) Nah. That wouldn’t be fun at all. I have a better idea..

[I looked around for the usual stash of booze but each hiding place I checked the bottles were empty or just about empty.]

Fuck. Ok...A liquor run is needed.

 [I tossed my backpack over my shoulders, knowing I would need something to carry my haul home in then made my way to the front door. I stumbled over the top step because let’s face it..I was hung over and not fully awake. ((You don’t need more of that shit, Asshole. You are already fucked up.)) She was tapping her foot against my skull, arms folded across her chest in annoyance but I ignored her. I groan, slipping my hand into my back pocket to retrieve one of the joints I rolled up for my outing. Using my Hello Kitty lighter I ignite the flame and take a drag, inhaling the smoke into my lung and holding it for a few beats before releasing the smoke.]

That’s a good fucking batch!

[I could instantly feel the high start to cloud my brain and I loved every second of it. I was relaxed as fuck and ready to tackle the day. When I stepped off the front porch I saw a shiny red tricycle on the lawn next door. My eyes grew wide and I decided I HAD to have it. Not even sure why, but I wanted it. I looked around to see if anyone was watching and I acted like a ninja, hiding behind bushes and ninja rolling across the lawn until I had been within reach of my intended target. I waited until the mom had gone inside, making my move. I shove the little boy off the tricycle and laugh hard, running off with it tucked under my arm. Halfway down the road I could hear the mom yelling. “TYLER LOCKWOOD! What are you doing?!” I could only laugh as I hopped on the trike and peddled away.]

I shall call you Betsy! We will be great friends, won’t we?

[I peddle Betsy through town, terrorizing the town’s people. I rode through the grocery store, picking up a bag of apples.  I would randomly toss an apple at people who were in my path of destruction, cackling at the top of my lungs. I knocked over produce, used a broom from the cleaning aisle to drag across shelves and pull everything off. The best part was, I didn’t give a shit. ((Oh my God, Tyler! Stop it! What are you doing?!)) The voice tried to stop me but to no avail. I was having FUN for the first time in a while. The security guards tried to catch me but I was really fast peddling that little thing around. I headed toward the doors, the automatic door triggering open. I watch as one guard stands in front of me and I grin darkly, holding up the broom like it was a lance and I was one of those medieval times knights charging at the enemy. His eyes went wide as I peddled closer, hooking the broom under his dick.]

YEAH! Take that ya little dick BITCH!

[A victorious roar belts from my lips as I peddle around the man who dropped with a squeal, out on the sidewalk I peddle past Old man Jenkins and toss an apple at him before laughing. ((You just hit an old man you jerk!)) Up ahead I spot the newsstand in front of the deli, the newspapers being my next target. I peddle by and grab a stack, shredding them up like confetti only to sprinkle the bits of paper all over the ground. The voice in my head started playing music from the Benny Hill show.]

OH Shit! I almost passed the Liquor store!

[I screech to a halt and spin the Tricycle around to go back. I ride through the door, hearing the tiny chime of a little bell above me. I look around in thought, wondering which bottles would be mine today. The owner behind the counter gives me a side eye glance. “Tyler don’t you start any shit in here today, young man.” I wave a hand dismissively.]

Yeah, yeah..

[I stand up and start shoving bottles into my bag, Vodka, Tequila, Rum, Whiskey and others, popping some airplane size bottles into my pockets as well.]

Oh snacks!

[I jam a few bags of chips and a box of Hoho and Funny Bones snack cakes into the bag. My head turns when I spot a gorgeous ass in a tight pair of jean shorts, tattoos all over and fire red hair. I could feel my dick get hard behind my jeans, grunting like a true animal.]

Dayum, baby..How have I not had you in my bed before?

[I smirk, using the sharpie I kept in my pocket to write my name and number on the bottle of Margarita mix she held in her hand then lift my finger to my lips as if this was our secret when I take it from her and slip it into to her purse. The owner steps from behind the counter. “Lockwood, what are you doing?! Get over here!” I laugh hard, grabbing Betsy and starting to run. I call over my shoulder at the pretty Red head.]

For a good time, call me! Tyler COCKwood.

[I jog over and grab a handful of scratch off tickets before I make my exit to the outside once more, maniacally laughing my ass off. My new friend Betsy and I peddling our way back home to have some much needed drinks.]

[sanguinesixx]

cat and mouse

Nikki’s playing a game with you. You’re just not sure who’s the cat and who’s the mouse.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Okay, a few things! I gave Tommy a twin sister because I didn’t really feel comfortable using Tommy’s real sister in this, and also Tommy having a twin is the perfect recipe for disaster. Also, I’m open to constructive criticism because I know I use too many fucking commas.This is based off The Dirt version of Nikki but picture whatever you’d like. 

-

Chapter One

Danielle’s twin brother had gotten you hooked on cigarettes when you were fifteen. Four years later, they were still just as tarry and bitter, and just as easy to hate. You don’t really know why you don’t try to quit; maybe it’s because everyone you know smokes and enables you. Maybe it’s because Danielle’s brother, Tommy, hangs around the diner all the time. He brings along the rest of his band, Mötley Crüe, occasionally. You were good friends with them now, having spent time with them and successfully bonded. Though, before you and Tommy’s band got closer, they made your skin crawl with nervousness, and the cigarettes offered a distraction. The source of this feeling, specifically, was Nikki Sixx.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t kind of interest you.

Today is no different. It’s cold, probably dropping close to freezing if not already there. They’re all bundled up. Strangely enough, though, Nikki is wearing a shirt with the sleeves chopped off and the arm holes dragged down to his hips. He’s holding a leather jacket in the crook of his arm. It’s strange to you that he’s not wearing it, but he doesn’t look fazed by the cold air outside.

They all sit down at their normal table. Someone comes up and talks excitedly with them for a second before handing them a journal to sign. Mötley Crüe isn’t quite famous yet, but are gaining popularity. You snort at the look on Nikki’s face. He looks satisfied at the recognition but a little annoyed at the interruption.

Despite his strange expression, he’s still weirdly sort of pretty. Nikki’s hair isn’t styled today and everyone is dressed fairly casually. He’s leaned up against the corner of the booth with his arm hugging the back of it lazily. Your eyes follow the curve of his biceps like they’re on autopilot. His arms are strong, muscular, sort of honey-tan; a color weird to see in February. 

You take a long drag from your cigarette. The smoke clouds him for a second, turning him fuzzy around the edges. You wonder why he captivates you the way he does. It could be something in the set of his shoulders or the way he tends to do whatever the fuck he wants. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

“Hey!” Your boss calls. “Why don’t you take their order, huh?”

You sigh, snub your cigarette, and take one last glance at him, before heading over.

“Hey, Y/N!” Tommy grins at you.

You smile back. His high energy and good mood are a little contagious, if you’re being honest. “Hey, boys, what’re you in the mood for today?”

Tommy asks for pancakes, Mick just wants water, and Nikki and Vince just order black coffee. You raise your eyebrow a little at the slumped forms of the latter two. Vince’s blond head is cradled in his hands, and Nikki looks exhausted. “I’ll throw in a hangover meal for the two of you.” You say, looking pointedly at them. Neither acknowledge you.

Tommy leans up to stage whisper, “Wild fucking party last night.” A laugh bubbles up out of your chest. 

He winks at you theatrically as you go to give the order to the kitchen and push through into the break room. Danielle looks up at you and immediately states, “My brother and his dumbass friends are here.”

“Uh, yeah,” Your eyebrows creep up to your hairline. “How’d you know?”

She purses her lips. “You’ve got that goofy look on your face.”

“I do not have a look on my face!” You defend, turning away from your fresh mug of coffee to stare incredulously at her. She gives you a pointed look.

“You do. Pretty sure the whole city knows about your desire to have Nikki crack your cervix in half with his dick.”

You splutter. “What are you even talking about? No one knows about my crush on Nikki!”

Danielle grins at you, shit eating expression identical to her brother’s, and says, “Everyone knows. Given, Mick had to point it out to Tommy because we know he’s not the most observant, but he knows. I’d be shocked if Nikki had no idea.”

She’s right, unfortunately. She always is. It’s so fucking annoying how perceptive she is. You shrug, unable to argue, so you jab, “At least I don’t want your brother to ‘crack my cervix in half.’”

Danielle groans and bitches at you for the visual.

…

The boys invited you offhandedly to their party tonight. It’s crawling with people by the time you and Danielle arrive. There’s music that you can barely hear over the steady roar of voices and people doing weird shit. David Lee Roth is in the corner bumping a line as thick as your index finger. Cool.

You pass Vince between two girls who have to be supermodels. Go, Vince! you think. Mick is relaxed against the same couch with a beer in his hand. Tommy is making out with a girl in a chair, and Nikki’s arm is on fire.

“Y/N,” Danielle grabs your arm. “Look at that girl over there!” She’s pointing at a girl with a sheet of long blonde hair, cherry pit lips, and big eyes framed with thick eyelashes. The girl is dancing fluidly, alone, but in a crowd of people. You can practically hear Danielle drooling.

“Go talk to her,” You urge. Danielle is off before you even finish the sentence. Sure, she left you alone. You don’t really blame her though. If you had half the charm the Lee twins did, you’d be doing the same.

Vince is gone off the couch and Nikki has replaced him, so you grab a beer, chug half of it, and then settle next to him. He’s very clearly coked out. You can tell by his eyes, and by the fact he’s finished bumping a line in the shape of an ‘N’.

“Want any?” Nikki asks, voice rough from the drip. You shake your head. You’re already buzzing with nervous energy. Coke is the last thing you need.

He hums and sets the tray down on the table. He’s wearing another cut-out again, this time with the neckline sheared into a shallow V, and a sinfully tight pair of leather pants. He looks fucking edible.

Nikki leans back against the couch, gold necklaces thumping dully against his chest, thigh muscles flexing against the leather, groaning with the effort. Your throat suddenly feels very dry.

“I’m gonna go get another beer,” You stand up hurriedly. “Want one?”

Nikki shrugs, which means yes in his head, so you get him one. You make it through another half of a beer before you give up, grab two more, and go back to sit next to him.

You fidget nervously and tap your fingers against the cool neck of the Heineken bottle. Nikki turns to you. “I’m glad you didn’t take me up on my offer. You’re psyched the fuck out already.”

“Sorry,” You mumble. Heat rises to your cheeks.

“You on something?” He asks.

You could lie, say you bumped a couple lines or something before you left, but lying to Nikki feels cheap. You shake your head.

Nikki raises an eyebrow. He says, “Then what’s got you so nervous, sweetheart?” His tone shocks you. It sounds teasing, like he knows the answer but he’s playing with you.

“Nothing.” Your voice is tinged with vibrato. The nervousness in your tone is palpable. There’s no way Nikki hadn’t noticed it. Maybe on a normal day, he’d leave it alone. But this Nikki – high, predatory Nikki – would not. You’re sure it’s the drugs, you know how he gets. Right?

“Alright, don’t tell me.” He gives you a grin that sends a spike of electricity right through you, and your confidence that it’s the drugs dissolves immediately. Nikki’s never acted like this around you before. Sure, he gets flirty, but this. This is very new and so out of the blue that you think you might sort of be in shock.

He makes a noise that snaps you back to attention. “How about I guess, and if I get it right, you tell me?”

You take a hurried sip of your beer. “Okay.” You say, with all of the confidence you can muster.

“First question,” Nikki grins wolfishly. “Is it because you’re not a party girl? Parties not your scene?”

You laugh. It surprises you that you’re able to laugh in panic mode. “No.”

“Is it because drugs make you nervous?” He leans in closer to you.

You snort. “No.”

“Is it because I’m high and you think I’m acting weird?” He’s near enough now that you can smell his cologne, clouded by sweat and whiskey.

“Close, but no.”

“Is it, I wonder,” He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath fan out across your mouth – he could kiss you if he moved a centimeter closer. “Me that makes you nervous?”

Your heart is beating so fast you wonder for a split second if you might die.  The beer must have kicked in, because you manage the confidence to speak. “Maybe,” You offer.

Nikki leans back against the arm of the couch again with a satisfied, raptorial expression settled on his face. You feel cold now without the heat of him right next to you, and don’t know what you look like right now, but you could probably guess it’s somewhere between frazzled and about to jump in Nikki’s lap. That idea is very, very appealing.

Frantic yelling occurs from one of the bedrooms. The door slams open, and Danielle sprints out entirely naked except for a hot pink thong, the girl from earlier chasing her with something that looks like a metal whip.

“What the fuck?” You shriek. One last look at Nikki, whose face is screwed up in almost childlike surprise, and then you’re off to chase down your best friend.

[dr-gloom]

FandersPrideMeetup Week 2: Representation. You Are Not Alone

Week 2 of @fander-pride-meetup: Representation- Draw/Write/Edit/Express yourself with the Sides/TSCharacters to represent your LGBTQ+ experiences!

A/N: So this is basically just the story of my first Pride (which I went to this year) told through the sides with a few small tweaks. I chose Roman cause I made a post about how important it is to some of us to see Aro!Roman content and a lot of people have agreed with me so here we are

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: none

Words: 1,335

Summary: Roman’s both excited and nervous for his first Pride. With all the discourse online, and so many people telling him he doesn’t belong at Pride because he’s aroace, he can’t help but let his imagination run away with him. What if a TERF comes up to him and starts something? What if a fight breaks out? What if he’s kicked out of Pride because he isn’t “oppressed enough”?

Tags/Warnings: aroace Roman, trans Roman, genderfluid Roman, Pride, anxieties, genderfluid Remy, trans Patton, Patton is pre-T and Roman and Remy are on T, mentions of top surgey/post-op

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

go here to be added to my taglist

Roman groans, the hot June sun beating down on them and making them regret dressing for the aesthetic. This was their first-ever Pride event, and they’d wanted to look badass for the parade they were marching in. They were wearing their tye-dye trans shirt they’d made a year ago, their aro flag over their shoulders and dark wash skinny jeans that were tucked into their new military-grade combat boots. They’d jokingly called them their “TERF-kicking boots”, getting plenty of supportive high fives from the other Kaiser volunteers they were marching with.

They fanned themselves with the paper fan someone had handed them while they all waited to march, saying for probably the tenth time that morning, “It’s too damn hot.” They turned to their friend Remy, who was fanning themselves as well, though they were dressed in more weather-appropriate in short shorts and rainbow socks. “I wish I remembered my water.” Remy pats them on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ve got water if you need any.”

“I brought some frozen water bottles! You want one?”

Roman turns around to look at the shorter man behind them. Patton, they think his name is? “Oh uh, sure! Thank you Patton.” Patton smiles and nods, handing Roman a frozen water bottle that they immediately press against their neck. They groan at the cool mercy on their skin, making Remy and Patton laugh.

                                    ___________________________

“Woooooooooo~!” Patton cries, along with the rest of their group and the audience they pass by. Roman and Remy share a look, laughing.

“Wee-snaaaaaw~!” Roman cries, laughing at how pitchy their voice sounds. Not even five minutes in, Roman and Remy realized that they could no longer “woo” loudly since the T was changing their voice. Maybe in a year or two when it stopped, but for now?

“Wee-snaaawww~!” Remy crows, immediately cackling at the confused looks they received.

Roman unties the aro flag from around their shoulders, the fabric doing nothing to cool them off. Instead they hold it out in front of themselves, trying not to pay too much attention to the audience. The same thoughts that had been plaguing their mind for days come to the front of their brain. What if someone sees them carrying this flag and harasses them? What if they get pushed? Their chest is still healing, they can’t afford to get in a fight.

“Woooooo~!” Patton cries loudly right behind them, silencing their thoughts. Roman laughs shakily and looks around. They’ll be fine.

They aren’t alone anymore.

“I love your flag!!!”

Roman beams.

                                  _____________________________

When they reach the end of the line and everyone starts dispersing, Roman takes Remy’s hand to make sure they aren’t separated in the crowd. The two of them, along with Patton and his mom, find the nearest shade and settle down for a moment. Roman lays out their flag in the grass and bodily collapses on top of it, laying on their stomach. It’s only then that they remember that they’re in fact healing from top surgery, and ow that hurts, why did they do that?

Roman sits up with a pained hiss, a hand over their left pec where it feels like they just got punched. Yeah, they fucked up. In their defense, they were super tired, hot, and possibly dehydrated.

“You okay, babe?” Remy frowns at them, hunching over a little to look Roman in the eyes. Roman does their best to give Remy a reassuring smile. “I forgot I’m not supposed to lay on my stomach. I feel like I just got punched in the tit.” Remy gives a sympathetic hiss, their face scrunched up in pain. “You good though?”

“I don’t know, it hurts like a bitch.”

Paton frown from beside them. “Maybe you should check it?”

Roman looks around. Lift their shirt, in public, and take their binder off? Their heart beats a little faster, and they have to remind themselves that it’s fine. This is Pride, they don’t have boobs anymore, and this is a health concern. Roman nods, lifting their shirt and pulling the velcro aside to take off their binder.

Everything looks the same; almost-flat chest, tape covered stitches… Roman prods at their sensitive flesh. It seems kind of tough, but that’s probably just swelling, right? They pointedly ignore a passing girl going, “Oh, gross” and put their binder back on. After fixing their shirt, they smile at Remy and Patton. “It’s fine. Why don’t we head to the festival?”

                                     __________________________

“They’re blocking this entrance, too?” Roman grouses, starting to get really annoyed. And yeah, they get why people are protesting. The city had taken away their ban on uniformed cops at Pride and tons of people were pissed, but… “They do realize the only people they’re hurting by blocking all the entrances is their fellow LGBT, right? Like, we had no say in this shit, hell, I don’t want uniformed officers here either, but I still want to have fun.”

Remy nods at their side with a frown. “This is getting kinda redic. We’ve been walking around for twenty minutes now looking for an opening.”

Roman holds their hand out and Remy takes it without a second thought, letting Roman lead them through the crowd. The two keep walking, passing by a cop who was talking with some other people looking for an entrance. As soon as they round the corner, they see a large black woman dragging a knife back and forth over the zipties keeping the fence up around the festival. Roman slows to a stop, Remy at their side watching curiously. The ziptie snaps and the woman pulls at the fence, but it doesn’t move much. By this point, they’re starting to draw a bit of a crowd. Roman speaks up. “See that thing on the ground? You gotta pull the fence up- there you go.” They grin as she lifts the fence, freeing it from the stand and pushing it open. Roman rushes forward with Remy and the rest of the crowd, everyone spilling through the gap like water on a sinking ship.

Roman is practically giggling with glee, their steps almost like little hops with the sudden surge of excitement in their veins. They look back at Remy, who’s got a matching grin on their face. As they pass the metal storage crates and get closer to the festival they catch up to the woman, calling out a “Thank you!” and running off.

                                     ___________________________

Roman walks away from the stall pouting, dragging their feet.

“Not here either?” Remy asks, but pity and amusement in their eyes.

“No! You’d think one booth would have more flags than just- just the basic L-G-B-T! That’s so basic! What the hell!”

Remy pats their shoulder sympathetically. “Babe, we’ve been walking around for like… An hour. You’re hungry, you’re out of water, and your feet hurt, yeah?” Roman nods. “Then let’s get something to drink at least and then maybe we’ll go.” Roman sighs and nods again.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

They’d gotten their drinks and walked around once more to make sure they saw everything, stopping at at least half the booths to spin their free-stuff wheels. Roman saw a girl walking around with an ace flag draped over her shoulders like a cape and their face lit up.

“I love your flag!!!”

                                    _____________________________

“So how did it go?” Roman’s mother’s voice flows from the speakers of their car. Roman grins. “It was pretty good. The parade was really fun, and I got some free stuff. Met some really cool people. There was a guy there dressed as gay Satan! It was so awesome, he was like, rainbow everything. I got some good pictures.”

Roman’s mother laughs. “I’m glad you had fun. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah mom, see you at home.” Roman smiles as they hang up, reflecting on their day. They had no idea what they’d been so worried about. No one had bothered them, or questioned why they were there. In fact, they weren’t the only aroace there!

They weren’t alone anymore.

[stupendousshepherdloverpony]

Bucky Barnes X reader

Insurance: chapter 3

Summary; Reader has also met Pierce who has confirmed her situation of being a toy to the ‘Asset’. She has seen what Bucky looks like, but has been put into another isolated room. Awaiting his return from a mission.

Warning: mention of blood, slight violence, smut finally 😉

———————————————————

Y/N POV;

It’s been three days. Three days since Iv been locked in this room, awaiting the Asset to return. The room itself was slightly better than the one I first experienced. The bathroom was the same, but with a few extra products for the shower along with a cabinet. There wasn’t much inside, a toothbrush, tooth paste and a hair brush. Clearly they wanted me to remain in at least decent condition for the asset. Just like the last room there was a wardrobe full with grey tops, shorts and a whole manner of different lingerie types. I couldn’t even name half of them, there was so many! It was irritating to admit that some of them were pretty, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to wear them. The ones Iv had on were incredibly uncomfortable so far. Next to the wardrobe was a desk with a few old books, next to that a laundry basket and finally there was the bed. This was the biggest shock. Instead of the shitty, thin, worn down bed in the other room this one was a king size with a few pillows and different thickness blankets. This would make sleep easier, if it wasn’t for the paranoid state I was constantly in.

On the forth day I was awoken by my daily breakfast being delivered by a silent agent. They never once spoke to me, despite my tries. This usually consisted of a bottle of water, an apple and a plastic bowl of oatmeal along with a plastic spoon. I would receive another meal at what I could guess was around 5 o’clock, of course I couldn’t tell as there was no clock or window. The ‘supper’ was simply another bottle of water and a sandwich.

After eating the food I slid the bowl back through the doors latch and without a word the agent left me alone. I placed my apple on the desk to save for later in the day, and I sat down in the middle of the bed.

As what felt around mid day, I was reading one of the books HYDRA had oh so kindly provided me with when I was interrupted by the blaring of an alarm. The sudden piercing noise shocked me so much I jumped slightly with a yelp, to which I quickly covered my mouth in a poor attempt to hide my embarrassment. A thundering hoard of footsteps could be heard running back and forth through the hall. I stood up from my seated position on the bed and put my book back on the desk. Before I could even go closer to the door it swung open and in matched a single agent who I had never seen before. The man gave me a cold stare before stating “The Asset will arrive in 10 minutes. Be prepared” and with that he sauntered out the room.

Blinking in shock, my hands began to shake, ‘holy shit, what do I do?!’ Panic began to flood through my veins as I scrambled to make the ‘room’ as neat as possible, who knows what he will be thinking when entering the room. I decided to change into a clean shirt and shorts, accompanied by a baby blue one piece lingerie. If it were not for the sheer lace material one might mistake it for a swimmer, that is, one with an incredibly low back and deep V line at the front. ‘Thank god for these baggy tops’ I thought to myself. As time began to run out on my little preparations, I sat down on the edge of the bed, with my back straight and hands in my lap. After what felt like a century, the door swung open and someone was shoved through. The door slamming shut once again.

I could tell it was the Asset, aside from his unmistakable metal arm and leather tactile gear, I recognised his relatively long brown hair, if I was in any other position I’d be longing to run my fingers through it. His hair looked so soft, despite the obvious debris in it. As I trailed my eyes up his body, a pink hue overtook my cheeks as I realised he caught me staring. The most intense, steel blue eyes I’d ever seen were staring back at me. They looked dead, soulless despite their beauty. It was almost poetic how contradicting they were compared to the rest of him. His obviously sharp jaw line was covered by a black mask, which went from below his chin to the bridge of his nose. This made his stare all the more deadly, causing me to shrink back into myself, wishing I was invisible.

After an intense staring contest the Asset stalking his way into the bathroom, not sparing me another glance until he returned with a medical kid I noticed hidden in the cabinet on my second day. I yelped as he dropped the kit onto my lap as he began to take off his gear. Only then did I notice the intense bleeding coming from his right side. My eyes widened in horror while he finished his little strip show, leaving him in a white tank top and his trousers. I stood up and tried to back away before he caught my arm, muttering in a deep rough voice “Очисти мою рану” (Clean my wound). I only stared at him confused, not knowing a word of what he just said. The Asset let out a grunt before sitting down in my previous spot on the bed. “Вы русский язык знаете?” (Do you know Russian?) He muttered, followed by “конечно нет. Вы, кажется, невинны, гораздо больше, чем ГИДРА” (Of course not. You seem innocent, much more than HYDRA). He opened the medical kit and grabbed my hand, ignoring my pathetic struggles and put my hand on the equipment before pointing to his bleeding side. I muttered a small ‘Oh’ before realising he wanted me to help his injury. I took out a cleaning wipe and gauze along with a needle, not knowing if he needed stitches I gave him a questioning look which he shook his head ‘no’ to. Hoping that meant I didn’t need to use it, I tentatively lifted up his shirt and began to wipe away the blood. I could tell he was watching me, his calculating eyes made me almost squirm in my uncomfortable, hunt he’d position. After cleaning as best as I could I positioned the gauze over the wound before swiftly standing straight again.

The Asset copied me, standing up and towering above my meek frame. He brushed past me with an unreadable look, grabbing a change of clothes from closet before grabbing the medical kit and returning to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing and the barely audible sound of water indicated he was showering. I retreated back to the far side of the bed, slowly sinking down and attempting to gather my thoughts. ‘What the fuck was that all about?! He didn’t seem to bad though...maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me’. I hummed to myself I’m distraction as the doors latch opened without a word and 2 trays of food where shoved inside, ‘it must be in the evening’. I made my way over and picked both up, placing the Assets good on the desk and I slid down the wall, the furthest side from the bathroom and began to eat in silence.

After a few minutes the sound of running water stopped before the bathroom door opened and to my shock, revealed a naked Adonis of a man with only a towel around his waist. He was soaked, trails of water dripping from his hair down to his chest, oh god his chest! Perfectly ripped abs and a distinctive V line drew my attention while the water made him glisten in the dim lighting. Small scars and cuts were scattered across his chest, my eyes drifted up to the edges of his metal arm. The amount of scar tissues shocked me slightly, and a huge surge of remorse and sadness welled up inside me. The sound of a throat clearing snapped me out of my daze and my eyes snapped up to his, only to be met with a harsh glare. I flinched at the cold stare and blurted out “I wasn’t staring!” ‘Great’ I thought to myself. ‘The first words I speak to a potentially deadly, extremely sexy yet terrifying assassin was a down right, blatant lie’. The asset looked as if he wanted to give me an amused look, but instead opted to hardening his stare.

I shyly looked away from him, his eyes piercing me while I flushed red in a poor attempt to stop my staring. “Come here, маленький котенок” (little kitten). I was shocked to hear him speak English, but then again, HYDRA is a world wide organisations. They must have the best resources, the best of the best fighters, which entitles the knowledge of different languages. I must of gotten side tracked (again) because I heard a grunt of irritation. I shot up off the ground, taking shaking steps until I was a foot away from him. I refused to meet his eyes, not even when he laid a metal hand on my shoulder and applied a small amount of pressure. “On your knees, маленький котенок”. I gulped before slowly kneeling before him, big doe eyes staring up at him below my eyelashes. I knew that if I were to disobey, he could kill me instantly. I could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes while he stared down at me in concentration. His metal hand moved up to cup the right side of my face, his ‘thumb’ tracing over my cheek bone, over my lips before going back up to rest behind the back of my head. I was startled at the sound of a snap before my hair feel from it’s pony tail and it drifted in front of my eyes. Before I could even lift a hand the Asset beat me to it, grabbing my hair in his flesh hand and wrapping it around his wrist, suddenly yanking it back harshly earning him a gasp as I stretched my neck up towards him.

I stared at him with wide eyes as he bent down more towards my level, his face inches away from mine. I felt my face flush pink as his eyes roamed over my face, drinking in my almost submissive position. Apparently he found what he was searching as he sharply stood back up, he let go of my hair and walked around me to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “Crawl towards me, маленький котенок” he muttered, his voice deep and raspy yet smooth as silk. Embarrassment flooded my veins as I slowly got down on my hands and knees, shuffling towards him until I was before his legs, sitting back on my heels between his legs I was growing more and more humiliated. This man, this practical GOD was ordering me around, so simply making me submit to him. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, yet I could feel the desire growing within me.

Suddenly the towel adorning his waist feel and I let out a squeak of shock before snapping my head to the side so to not look at his manhood. A cool sensation touched my cheek before turning my face back towards him, ignoring the huge distraction in close proximity to my face I stared him in the eyes. I’m no prude or snob, simply inexperienced. But it didn’t take a lot of experience to tell that he was bigger than the average man. In both length and thickness, this man was huge. The mere sight of his manhood sent me into a frenzy.

Bucky’s POV;

I felt a smug smirk stretch across my usually stoic face. This innocent little pet was a spectacular sight. Kneeling before me, to afraid or maybe to scared to look at my crotch. I felt my cock harden at the sight of her big doe eyes staring back at me, her very prominent hardened nipples peaking through the thin layers under her shirt. I almost wanted to laugh, she knew the potion she was in, physically and metaphorically. I had been previously told by my handlers that I would receive a toy, a girl I could do whatever I wished with. I could ruin her or treasure her, they would not care. As long as I don’t kill her then they can use her a leverage to make sure I return from missions and follow orders. Perhaps it would make my life more fun, maybe I could be more human instead of a killing machine. I have no remorse for all my actions, this is my purpose in life. I am told that I’m humanities last Hope. I will do my job as instructed.

I once again grasped her hair but this time turned her head down, forcing her face closer to my hardened member. “маленький котенок, be a good girl and suck” I commanded. There was a flash of horror in her eyes before she began to struggle to escape. She twisted in my hold but I easily overpowered her with my metal hand behind her head and flesh one reaching into my discarded gear and grabbing a plastic tie. I secured her hands behind her back before delivered a swift slap to her cheek with my flesh hand. I did this as a warning, hardly any strength going into the hit but it was enough to scare her to still her movements.

“A-asset please sto-“ I harshly interrupted her by wrapping my flesh hand around her throat roaring “DO NOT call me that! You will address me as sir, and only sir do you understand?!”

Y/N POV;

I let out a whimper of pain before he squeezed my throat even harder, hissing “ I said do you understand?”

“Yes sir! I understand” I all but whispered. He once again motioned me before his rock hard cock, so without much choice I leaned further down and poked out my tongue with a tentacle lick to the tip, taking the angry red dome into my mouth and swirling my tongue around. He let out a low growl before forcing my head deeper, I gagged at the sudden intrusion before licking and sucking as much as I could. Taking him as far as I could, with the little experience I had, I used my knowledge from my friends tales that I should pay extra attention to the slit on the tip. I hollowed out my cheeks as I licked over the slit, tasting his pre-cum. It was an infuriatingly divine taste, salty yet sweet. Bitter yet tangy.

My desire began to peak more as I began to such and lick even harder. I must of been doing well as the asset, or ‘sir’ began to thrust up into my mouth. “That’s it my little pet. Swallow me deep, we will have to work on your skills, it’s obvious your new to this. Doesn’t meen your doing a bad job маленький котенок, quite the opposite. You want me to cum down your throat don’t you? Your such an obedient toy. You deserve a reward.”

His dirty talk in a distinctive Brooklyn accent made me flush and the heat spreading across my body made me moan lowly around his cock. The moan must of tipped him over the edge as his fist tightened on my head, pushing me deeper than before and his huge length made me choke. With a sinful moan his cum shot out to the back of my throat, straight down into my stomach. The delicious taste flooded my mouth and I savoured as much as possible before being lifted back off him. I gasped and tried to catch my erratic breath, cum dripping down my chin as one (metal) hand reaches behind me to snap off the wrist ties and the other drawing almost caring circles on my cheek bone.

After a moment the realisation of what just happened sank him. I sucked an assassins cock, he spoke such filthy words to me. And worse of all, I enjoyed it. “Get to bed”. A simple command sent me going to the bed and slipping under in silence as ‘sir’ stood up and went to the bathroom, I’m assuming to clean up. I turned my back to the bathroom, curling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I heard him step back one and he lay down behind me. I flinched when I felt his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling my back flush against his front. The only thing covering his modesty is a thin pair of shorts. His legs intertwined with mine, the last thing I heard before submerging into the abyss being “sleep tight little one, I have such plans for you.”

———————————————————

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor

@brazen88brat

@desdemonadeluna-blog

Im soooo sorry for the wait guys! Iv had an unexpected work load recently along with my friends wanting to meet more than usual. Not used to socialising so much! I hope this made up for it tho! 🖤

[zexxcandell]

Debt Collecting

(Reply to the quest provided by @eliceynbirch​ )

The Black Eyed Walrus was your typical seedy under the docks bar.  All manner of men, women,and who knows what made their way down here for the kind of quiet drink that made sure the constables wouldn’t look twice at it.  It was old, it was gross, it was unkempt, but it was the shadowy aesthetic that would be pirates craved and discovered they were not ready to be in.  Owned by Maggie, a one eyed crone who’s stories about her past life made men pale and ill treated women their hero, she’d come into possession of the dockside establishment via a strong bite and the early retirement of the previous owner.  Maggie was just Maggie, she didn’t have a last name that she was willing to share and by the muscle she hired to keep things in order no one pushed to ask about her personals.  Maggie was as much the bar as the bar was her. 

Despite how it looked, it held a huge part of Maggie’s heart and she’d be damned if anyone was going to ruin it.  The biggest source of pride of the crone’s was the large plate glass window she had purchased to look out onto the old dock outside and shadowy waters of the harbor.  It had cost quite a bit of gold and took some brave craftsmen to come down and install it for her.  She loved that window that she had painstakingly painted the visage of the bar’s namesake, a large walrus with a large black ring about it’s eye.  The literal personification of the woman in paint and time.  Maggie loved that window and her art as much if not more than the bar she never left.  

Sadly, a large figure was currently being launched through the window in a shower of glass and roar of a brawl within the bar.

Twenty minutes ago…

“An you are?”

“Zexx, Zexx Candell.”  A calloused and sea salt worn hand reached between the bottles of rum and liquor to grasp the other man’s hand firmly.

“Hoarse, Hoarse Darby,  pleasure tha Candell,” the sailor nodded genially as he broke the grip and lifted up his fresh bottle to his lips again followed by a hard pull of the alcohol.  Darby was young, dumb, and likely full of a troublesome substance but his thick corded arms and bald head did the trick to know him a tough bastard. He liked it that way. He also liked it when free drinks followed winning a few rounds of dice with a stranger.

“Likewise, mate, you took me for quite a ride there,” Zexx replied with a wide toothy grin.  If not for the thick salt and peppered beard, the laugh lines of the man would have been very clear.  But for all the smiles and laughs, his one blue eye was slightly red and carried a sadness that only comes from true loss.  “I swear I can roll better.”

“In mah experience that more ya drink tha better the dice seem ta follah,” Hoarse replied with his own grin on his reddened face, his nose showing easily a future of alcoholism as he toasted his cycloptic benefactor.

Zexx let out a bark of a laugh as he lifted his own bottle and took a short pull, a hard grimace following as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.  “Shame yer friends, didn’t want to play any more.  Though probably better for me to lose to one of you than all of you.”

A few drunken nods joined an oily grin as Darby wiped his own mouth with his own palm.  “Aye, but thems lookin fer tail more’an drink an games.”

“And they plan to find it here?”

“Right?”  Darby laughed and leaned forward into the table, his head bowing forward as a soft jangle of metal could be heard as he guffawed.

“Oy there, what’s that then?”  Zexx asked as he tilted his head looking to his gaming partner.

“Eh?  Oh this thang, pretty lil bauble I picked up recent,” Darby nodded as he sat back up drunkenly and reached inside his shirt to produce the silver anchor talisman.

Peering across the table with a whistle, Zexx held out an expectant hand.  “Fine piece of jewelry there mate, mind if I take a closer look?”

A hard tug pulled the leather thong from around Darby’s thick neck as he swayed drunkenly across the table to lay it in Zexx’s hand who nodded softly as he lifted it to look at.  “Simple make, but damn fine.  Where ya happen upon it?”

Darby leaned back in his chair and kicked his bare feet up on the table, to wiggle his toes with a sigh as he rested the bottle on his belly.  “Tha thing?  Reason why ahm alrigh on tail myself.  Some ‘hore had it an I ask where she got it says somethin bout an uncle or something.”

Hoarse snorted as he shook his head while taking a swig.  “Yer uncle?  Ya righ ya filthy bitch.  So I confiscated it up righ.  Brough me hell o luck out on the blue.  An tonigh!”  

The sailor waved to the moderate pile of gold he’d picked up from his companions and the one eyed man across from him.  Zexx nodded softly as he held the pendant still in his palm, he’d never been much for arcane work but he knew enough to know this was more than a bauble.  This said sages all over.  

“Sounds like quite the girl,” Zexx murmured as he set the anchor between them.

Darby nodded with a laugh, “Oh yeah sweet as o bee hive, feisty as one too!”  The sailor leaned forward with a dark, drunken grin that held a lot more information about what happened between him and the girl than he was saying.  His free hand reached forward to pick up the bauble again.  “Ah tell ya, she had thighs tha dra-”

Darby’s words were cut short as a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist and pinned that hand to the table.  Shock sobered him up for a brief moment as he followed the hand up and into the face of a no longer smiling Zexx.  Shadows framed the one eyed man as he pinned Hoarse’s hand, as a dark anger radiated from the man.  Darby never even had a chance to shout as Zexx’s free hand grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed it swiftly into the old birch table with a crunch of a nose and snap of a jaw.  The same hand grabbed hold of the stunned sailor and lifted the head to smash again into the table for good measure, a spray of blood and teeth following this hard slam.  With a grunt Zexx pulled the head up and tossed the sailor back into his chair which amazingly kept standing as Darby flopped back loosely with a ruined face and blank stare.

Zexx peered behind his shoulder and around the immediate area for a moment, the chorus of the bar still a low din as this was not quite an uncommon occurrence around this place.  Spitting in the direction of the sailor, the swordsman would sweep up the bauble before swiftly moving to Darby’s side of the table.  Keeping a quick on the bar and for sight of Hoarse’s friends, a moan sounding behind him as the stun was starting to wear off on the man.  Turning about swiftly to plant his fist between the eyes of the sailor before ripping a bandana from around Darby’s neck and ‘knapsacking’ it for the coin on the table.

A final clink of coin and swift pull of the ends finished the ‘golden lunch’ Zexx had prepared with a snort and grim smile.  So far so good, Zexx though as he lifted the money and gave a final look to Darby.  A new soft moan given to signal just a bit of sadism on the hero-for-hire’s part, a swift jab delivered to the broken nose for good measure.  A wet smush and moan as Darby finally fell out of his chair with a clatter.

“Wha tha fuck?”  His blue eye widened as Zexx looked up from his unconscious quarry and turned to find Darby’s five mates who had been at the bar glaring at him.  Their hands were holding bottles, a couple of girls, and a lot of fists.

“Shit.”

Now...

Zexx coughed hard and spit, struggling up to his hands and knees from his prompt exit of the bar.  Rolling over onto his rear he sat a moment to catch his breath, tasting quite a bit of blood in his mouth again as he spit to the side again and stared back the way he came from the Walrus.  

Inside was a madhouse of fighting, blood, and a thundering shot followed as someone had finally drawn a pistol into the air to either find some order or put down a brawler.  Zexx guessed it the latter.

Breathing heavily and painfully, the swordsman would struggle to get up and scramble away down the dock his old boots thumping on the wooden dock.  His left hand squeezing tighter again about the anchor in his palm, happy for keeping it and the luck it was sending his way.  The loss of coin wasn’t in the plan but sometimes you gotta buy an exit.

Zexx stopped for a moment and leaned on one the dock posts as he tried to ease the ache in his ribs from breathing and even moving.  The big sailor had packed quite a punch or six and definitely finding his way through a window was not the most comfortable way to vacate the premises.  As his pain slowly eased thunder resounded the docks and the post he’d leaned on exploded in a shower of wood and muck causing him to stumble away in a panic.  Flipping about he’d easily find the bloody and angry culprits to be three of the five mates of Darby’s, one with a smoking pistol in hand.  The second man lifted his own pistol now to pull the trigger for the loud Kul Tiran salt shooter to blow past Zexx’s ear.  A quick check found the ear still there as he turned to run again, the loud thumps of feet and curses following him as he booked it past the moored ships.

As much as Zexx wanted to just run it was very obvious from his previous beating and wounds there was no way he would outrun them.  Fight or die was taking precedence over flight now as he rounded to down a dock, seeing a head of him quite a few rows bobbing in the black water.  Could he row?  A thunderous shot ringing about with a swish of a bullet was a clear indicator that he could definitely row.  Reaching one of the boats, his booted foot kicking the knot hard to loosen it before pulling it off the tie off, which followed the rope as a bullet tore it from the dock and sent it spinning into the water.

“Crap in a hat,” Zexx muttered as he readied to leap into the boat.  Thankfully he had some help in getting in the row as thick muscled arms grabbed him behind and tackled him forward into the boat below.  The swordsman made a perfect landing pad for her his pursuer as the boat dipped into the drink and sped away from the dock further out into the harbor.

There was some muffled threat and yell Zexx heard as he painfully breathed and tried to steady his rocking brain with the rowboat drifting too and fro.  More pain flooded his body as a punch struck him in the back and another in the kidney before he struggled to right himself away from the sailor.  A quick twist on his back and an elbow caught a defensive arm of the attacker and let Zexx follow with a roll to his back to face the sailor.

Darby’s mate was already clamoring up to his feet with a well experienced ease of fighting on the sea, his feet loosely planted as he let his body roll with the pitch of the waves.  Fists raised to taunt and egg Zexx on to stand, who replied with breathing heavily as he felt around behind him in the boat for purchase to get up.  Bloody and ragged breath flowed from the one eyed hero as he finally gripped onto something. 

“Get up ya bastard!  Get up ya fuck!  Ah’m gonna smah ever bone in ya!”  A short kick was sent into Zexx’s leg as he winced and struggled back onto the seat of the row boat.  Leaning forward a moment to catch his breath and Zexx made what might have been perceived to stand and fight.  Instead it was to level the short harpoon gun at the sailor who suddenly went white in the face before going red as the short fisherman’s spear went through his left eye and skull.

A familiar thump of dead meat rocked the rowboat again as the current took it further from the docks and into the harbor from the Walrus.  Zexx dropped the gun with a clatter of metal and fishing line before slumping back with an exhausted sigh.  His hand ached just as much as the rest of him as he lifted it up in front of his face to let the anchor uncoil before him, a new appreciation of the elements coming.  Behind that swaying talisman came a glint of something on the still form of the other man, a curious brow raising at what luck had befallen him now.

Two days later…

“Sorry again on the delay of retrieval, had to wait for Darby to arrive back in port before I could track him down.” Zexx spoke calmly in the office of Madame Kestavin sipping at a cup of herbal tea she’d been gracious enough to have for him.  Though he was a mass of bruises, bandages, and strong scent of herbal salves miraculously he was healing quite quickly and easily.  According to the medical staff he’d been seeing he was lucky to not be in traction for the rest of his life, but instead somehow a few days rest and medicine he’d be right as rain.  Lucky him.

“As for your girl’s items,” the anchor pendant was set gently down on the desk followed by another necklace of gold marked with a well sized ruby.  “I was able to retrieve the pendant but as for the gold it wasn’t in the cards.  Fortunately though, I was able to grab this and had it appraised before coming down here.  I think you’ll get roughly what you were owed for it but I’ll understand if you’d rather take it out of my reward.”

Zexx sipped at his tea again with a wry smile at the woman as he tried to cross his legs and winced loudly before putting his leg back down to sit easier.  

“Are you satisfied?��