#hope you like the next chapter

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[niccoguedes]

LOUIS record: 04/09/1973 [...] [...] [...] XX.XX.198? - Water Tower Place, Chicago (ORD)

O Favorito do Demônio (03/20)

[hascious]

Chapter 6: Rise has been posted

plus some of the drawings i made while writing it! theres plenty more but id rather not spoil the chapter so soon. the boris drawing is all the way from march 4th and the last alice one is from less than an hour ago

[robiinurheart33]

CHAPTER 22 SPOILERS FOR THE NEON VOID‼️‼️

Haha wdym no I didn’t read the chapter almost one month after it came out wdym that’s crazy haha

ANYWAYS NEON VOID BRAINROT ANYONE?? As usual a magnificent read what can I say @sugarpasteltmnt is SO SO talented after I read this chapter I stared off into space for like a solid minute before laughing hysterically like Leo because MY GOD the adrenaline rush is so real. What compliment can I say that hasn’t been said about this fic. It gives me such goosebumps and the action sequences are just. Muah. Breathtaking. I cannot wait to read the next chapter and keep up the good work!! /lh /all pos

(Clicks for Palestine!!!)

[23fallencomets]

Chapter 8: Relaxing Vacation

[hiiiiii im back!! yeah this definitely got away from me and I felt like i wanted to give up on it, but I DIDNT!!! so pls enjoy the gang being chaotic with a surprise at the end 💞💞]

[twitter]

logansargeantoffical made a new tweet!

[text messages]

[twitter]

[messages]

[instagram]

liked by oscarpiastri, liamlawson30, arthurleclerc and 347,986 more

logansargeant: Miami, Florida and Vegas!! Vacation well spent i think

user93: so we’re not talking about you guys leaving fred behind???

liamlawson30: nope 🤗

liamlawson30: yuki being there was a total coincidence btw

arthurleclerc: i saw you sending him our location???

liamlawson30: okay and? we got bombass food the entire time he was here 🤨

frederikvestioffical: never going anywhere with you guys

logansargeant: at best, you were gone for a day

oscarpiastri: we could have left you there

frederikvestioffical made a new tweet

logansargeant: alright well thats just mean

oscarpiastri: you forget someone in a different country ONCE and now we’ll never hear the end of it

frederikvestioffical: next time we’ll leave you in a ditch

liamlawson30: ????

arthur_leclerc: why are you always confused 🤔

[instagram]

logansargeant made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, liamlawson30, and 3,328,490 more

logansargeant: found something better over break

oscarpiastri: we got lost in the classical era

logansargeant: let me have this???

liamlawson30: after six years of pining we have reached our conclusion everyone cheer

frederikoffical: WE’RE FREEEEE

arthur_leclerc: photo creds to me! i followed them around for THREE hours

logansargeant: i bought you dinner

liamlawson30: @.frederikvestioffical i told you we should’ve gone

frederikvestioffical: thirty bucks that logan cried

arthur_leclerc: cash or card?

[comments have been limited]

[twitter]

logansargeantspotify: Now Playing- Out Like A Light by the Honeysticks and Ricky Montgomery

[redo-rewind-if]

Redo; Rewind Demo Update - Chapter 3

This update adds: Over 140k words (including code)!!

Features:

Go clubbing and run into a very familiar face.

Or, you could head over to the local music festival instead! Why bother tracking down your hitman. Unless...?

Attempt a little breaking and entering, just for fun.

Plant a listening device and hope for the best.

Head home and plan your next steps.

Possibly use your new time travel abilities to fix your mistakes. Or don't. It'll probably be fine.

As you can see, the update is finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, I really wasn't expecting it to. Alas, writing and coding are rather time consuming. And 100k words is basically a novel's worth.

Despite the word count, if you're only playing one route, it may not take you that long to read. Unfortunately, that is a problem with writing IFs, it feels like a lot when you're writing it but then when you go to play it...

On the plus side, there's many different routes you can try! I'd highly recommend using multiple saves to check out other options.

Regardless, I thank you all for your patience and support, and hope you enjoy it!

[Link] - Demo Update, Available Here!

(Make sure to start with a fresh save to avoid possible bugs caused by the old ones!)

[chaosduckies]

Surprise Sketches of some OC’s I was working on for a fic I was writing. Again, not an artist but I think they turned out okay! :D (I think the tiny is going to be smaller but I’m physically incapable of drawing that small on my current canvas size)

Don’t worry, the big guy is gentle… even if sometimes he doesn’t realize things until after he’s done them. But aghhh. Tiny with a broken wing, forced to stay with someone hundreds of times bigger than himself until he’s healed up which could take months? Amazing. Chef’s kiss

I won’t reveal the names yet, but this one is an extreme size difference because I love it so much 🫶

[padfootagain]

THE FIRST DRAFT IS DONE!!!!!!!!!!

I'm crying, at this point...

The first draft of the Prof!AU Love in Verses is officially done!!! All 44 chapters are complete!!!

The posting schedule will be posted next week!!!

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART 4.5 (BONUS)

So I had initially planned to have a double dom!/sub! Chapter where Ken and the reader switched roles halfway through, but I decided I wanted them separate despite them happening back to back. SOO if you haven’t read the first part you can find it in my Masterlist, otherwise have fun and I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / smuttyyy smut / fingering / dom! Ken / desperate Ken / praise k!nk / / smut / reader might be slowly losing her mind but she’s fine with it / kinda some non-con but reader is into it / spanking / edging / overstimming / this one goes harder than any of the chapters before so, if that might be intimidating or possibly triggering for you, tread softly. Always take care of yourself first <3

Alrighty. Have fun, besties. 🖤🖤

“Hey.”

Ken's voice broke through your sleep, and you blinked your eyes open. The room was bright with the day's sunlight, and you had a moment of struggle to come to, you had been so deeply asleep.

The moment your eyes adjusted, you looked up and saw Ken beside you, kneeling, his cock looking painfully hard and a smirk on his face. You attempted to move but realized your wrists were bound above your head tightly, and you saw Ken's fist clenched around a leather belt in his right hand. You sucked in air sharply, already overwhelmed when you hadn't even been fully awake a whole minute ago.

Ken leaned over you now, your mind racing as he stared down at you, kissing you lovingly before nipping at your lower lip and running the belt gently up your thigh.

"Now," his words made you already want to tremble, "it's my turn."

You tried to sit up but he had definitely made sure your restraints wouldn’t budge, and your mind raced on how to get out of this, not being ready for anything this quick after waking up.

Ken *was* ready though, and he ran the belt from up your thigh to your stomach, and you squirmed.

“What word do I need to listen for to stop?” He said, voice husky, his face inches from yours as he leaned on his arm next to you.

“Ken -“

“Not that one, I won’t allow it. I *want* to hear you say that.”

“No, no, Ken, I need you to let me out for a little while.”

He watched you and you pleaded with your eyes. “Please? Just let me wake up a moment, get some water?”

He ponded for a second but then agreed, untying your wrists and you sighed when you had your hands back to yourself. “Thank you.”

Ken helped you off the bed and trailed behind as you went to the kitchen for a drink. You were having a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights moment, kind of self conscious and not quite sure how to react to Ken right now, who, despite always having a bit of a rough side to him during sex lately, seemed like he was going to go way harder than before. Which you liked but you *were* actually anxious at not knowing what all he had in mind, and the fact that he might have developed a playful vendetta after last night.

You jumped a little after filling your cup with water, turning around to see him standing so close to you, you weren’t sure how you didn’t brush against him when you turned. He wore his black denim pants - the ones you had told him you thought made his ass look the best - and was shirtless, like usual.

He nodded towards your glass impatient. “Drink.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Mmmm, okay, well work faster,” he reached for you and tickled your waist a little while smiling, which made you laugh and jump and you spilled the water on both of you, but mostly on Ken.

He smiled and let out a small chuckle, then wrapped his fingers in your hair and brought your face forward to his now wet chest. “Drink.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, feeling playful. “And what if I refuse?”

He cocked his head. “I don’t remember giving you the option of ‘No.’” He pulled your face to his skin and you licked up one of his pecs where the water was still dripping off. Ken inhaled sharply, eyes closing for a moment as he let himself experience your mouth on his body. You kept your eyes on his face as you slowly worked your way down his abs, kissing and licking any trickles of water left, and Ken moaned quietly, keeping his hand in your hair.

You reached for his cock but the moment your hand touched it, he grabbed your wrist, eyes open and looking down at you now.

“I didn’t say you could do that.”

Well THIS was definitely new, but you decided to have fun with it. You smirked as you leaned forward to to take him in your mouth but instead Ken tugged on your hair, encouraging you to stand up. You looked at him and pretended to pout. You saw him soften a bit, especially his eyes, and he had the look he always got before he would tenderly pleasure you for what seemed like hours until you would drift off together. You reached for his cock again, though, and that seemed to snap him out of it, like he remembered what it was he had planned to do.

“I said, I didn’t give you permission to do that,” he said in your ear as he folded both of your arms behind your back, elbows bent, both of your arms being held together by his large hand. He began marching you back to the bedroom briskly, forcing you chest-first onto the bed, bent over with your feet still on the floor.

“Ken,” you giggled. “What are you planning to -“ you were cut off with a sharp pain on your ass, Ken having smacked you unexpectedly with the belt. You screamed when he did it again before you could take a breath, Ken holding you down onto the bed, his grip around your arms bruising.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He purred, and the sound of him repeating his praises back to you made you knees buckle.

You shook just a little from the sudden assault, shocked at how much you actually were enjoying it. You wondered if you should play along or tease him, and the latter got the better of you. You turned your head as best as you could in your current position, your eyes twinkling as they met his.

“What if I don’t want to?”

You saw a hint of amusement in Ken’s eye before he brought the belt down on you again, and you jumped, back arching from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

Ken leaned over you now, his partial body weight pushing you further into the bed. “That’s alright. I’ll just have to make you.”

You moaned loudly at his words and Ken stood again, continuing his lashing from before. You were trembling a little when he hit the fourth lash, and your knees buckled by the sixth, the sensation so much sharper and intense than it was when he’d use his hand.

“Ken, please -“ you choked out as the belt came down again, and he paused, hearing the way your voice cracked a little.

He leaned down over you again, hand still holding your arms hostage. “So you gonna be good for me, y/n?”

You nodded, unhappy with how quickly you had relented, but also desperately needing some time to recover.

“Mmmm,” Ken hummed, smiling, and gently placing a kiss on your ear. “I love you so much, y/n.”

You breathed as a warmth filled your chest as he stood up, then landed two more harsh lashes on your ass. You screamed, and he released your arms finally, you grasping the covers to hold onto something but also to deal with the pain.

Ken took both of you ass cheeks in his hands and massaged them gently, admiring his work, watching your body tremble and hearing the little whimpers coming out of your mouth.

He gave you a moment to recover, your head spinning, as he forced open your legs with his own, standing between them. He held your hips while he kissed softly down your back, enjoying the little shivers that happened because of his touch, and once you had calmed down a little, he stood up again.

You felt the belt run alongside your vulva and you clenched. “Oh, shit, Ken, no, please not -“

“Shhhh, shhhh,” he soothed. “Not this time. Just wanted to see your reaction.”

You felt one of his fingers enter you then, his other hand holding down your lower back.

“No moving,” he said, and you bit into the sheets beneath you to maintain some form of mental control as he immediately found your special spot and began rubbing his finger in circles on it. He added in another after a moment, and you left out a soft moan but remained as motionless as you could.

“You’re actually way better at this than I was,” he mused. “I actually prefer you moving all you like.” He leaned over your again, kissing the side of your neck. “I just wanted to see how well you could obey.”

“I’ll get you back,” you exhaled shakily as Ken’s fingers sped up, pressing into your spot *just* right.

Ken smiled against your hair and kissed the side of your head. “I’ll look forward to that,” he said, continuing finger fucking you until he knew you were close.

You expected him to edge you on like you had to him, but right when you were about to climax he added in a third finger and fucked in and out of you *so* perfectly that you cried into the covers as you came, Ken humming and complimenting you the whole time.

“You’re so good to me. You stretch around my fingers so perfectly, y/n. Always cumming to make me happy. Always letting me do whatever I want with you.”

Your exhaled loudly as you were coming down, still mildly dizzy from so much sensation so quickly, but before you could ground yourself fully, Ken kneeled between your legs and held you open for him, firmly licking a stripe from your clit up to your opening.

You gasped, feeling incredibly sensitive and you struggled against his hold.

“Need a moment,” you begged, trying to pull yourself away, but Ken didn’t let up, talking to you in between sucking and licking and little nips.

“I don’t remember you letting up when you were trying to exhaust me,” he said cheekily, and if you’d had the energy you’d have kicked him away.

“My sweet y/n can take whatever I give her, right?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, slowly losing the ability to control your body.

“You’re so wet for me.” He put three fingers back in you for emphasis, and you cried out, bucking into them unintentionally thus causing them to penetrate you deeper.

“I can’t…I can’t, please, ah…” Your voice was losing its usual volume and quivered on the last moan.

“I think you can.” Ken sucked hard on your clit again, and you sobbed, begging him to give you a break until your legs gave out and Ken caught you effortlessly, all fight left in you gone.

“How does it feel to be exhausted by your lover?” He purred into your ear, your naked body limp in his arms as he sat you onto his lap on the bed. “How does it feel to be completely under my control?”

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, and you moaned an answer incoherently. Ken turned your chin gently to him and kissed you deeply.

You felt yourself being picked up bridal-style and placed down onto the bed, your head resting on the pillows, your body relaxing into the mattress. You opened your eyes as Ken lowered himself on top of you, propping up on his forearms, and running his fingers along your face, kissing you tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled into your mouth. “So perfect. You always let me get lost in you. I love it so much.”

Your brain and body started feeling connected again after awhile, Ken loving on you gently the entire time, making sure you felt surrounded by him.

You sighed in relief when you felt fully back to reality, despite some sleepiness settling in. You laced your hands behind his neck, and returned the soft smile that he gave you.

“Hi.”

He kissed your forehead. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“But good?”

You giggled. “Yes, good.”

He smiled bigger. “Good.” He took your hands in his. “I”m going to need these.”

“Ohhhh god, oh, god, uh, Ken, Ken wait, can we talk about -“

Ken had already tightly imprisoned your hands in the pantyhose rope you had made the night before, and was fastening them to the headboard before you had a chance to physically react.

You tugged at the restraints, and Ken looked down upon you lying there, helpless and flushed beneath him. His pupils were blown and your stomach flipped - oh, fuck, he was *SO* turned on right now.

“Ken, take it easy on me?” You squeaked as he grabbed your hips roughly. He kneeled in front of you and lifted your hips up so your knees hung over his shoulders, your vulva directly in front of his face. He was so tall that you were partially lying upside down, your bound hands making it impossible for you to push or balance yourself on anything.

He winked at you - motherfucker WINKED - and then his mouth was on you, your hip bones held tightly, and you shuddered intensely as he began devouring you roughly.

Ken watched you, trying to ignore how much his cock was hurting right now from straining against its skin, your entire being fully under his power. Your eyes were shut and the noises you were making were spectacular, and he loved how stretched out you were between the restraints and his grip. The only control you really had over yourself right now was what you could say because your body was already so tired that you couldn’t even try to get your legs off of his shoulder.

“So fucking sweet,” he said, pulling his mouth back just long enough for you to get in a deep breath, and then he was consuming you again, tongue gliding and poking and tickling every inch of you he could find. You yelped when you felt his lips suck harshly on your inner thigh, knowing he had marked you, and then shook when he repeated it on the other leg before dipping his tongue back into you.

“Ken,” you started begging again. “Please.” Your voice was becoming a little hoarse, you had lost all track of time and had no clue how long this had been going on.

“Yes, y/n?” He breathed dreamily, like he was in heaven, going back to lazily circling your clit with his tongue.

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can, and you will. You still owe me one more after this one.”

Your eyes shot open. “One..one more?”

His eyes shone, his mouth still on you, and he winked again.

Something about all of that - the sudden knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until you’d climaxed three times?!, the look of pure adoration on his face being buried in you, and how hot this entire scenario actually was despite how dizzy and exhausted you were - hit at once and you came hard. You hadn’t expected it and you cried out loudly while Ken continued pleasuring you until you began to come down again, heaving loudly, tiny sobs escaping your lips as your eyes leaked.

Ken lowered your hips back to the bed and kissed you deeply, your juices mixing with his saliva, and his tongue ran against yours and your lower lip. He moaned into you loudly, cradling the back of your head with his hand until your breathing calmed and he stopped kissing long enough to look down at you.

“You’re doing so good.”

Tears definitely began coming now. “Please, Ken, I can’t do anymore right now.”

His face showed that he knew you weren’t playing, and that he cared deeply. “I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “I know, I’m just….I wasn’t expecting this much.”

He kissed you deeply again, just one time, and smiled down at you. “I won’t do anymore until you’re ready.”

To your surprise, he reached up and untied your hands, kissing each one as he let them free, then kissing around your wrists where the minor imprints from the hose had rubbed in a little too tightly.

“Ken,” you breathed, “can we like, do the last one later?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I said I won’t do anymore until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not ready until like, later tonight?”

He smirked. “I don’t think that’ll be the case.”

“Ken.” You squirmed underneath him, and unfortunately your hips moved into his *just right,* because his eyes closed and he groaned from the back of his throat.

“You’re making it really hard to let you recover,” he almost huffed, his eyes dark, and the way he was looking down at you gave you the most intense, weirdly submissive desire you had ever felt. His broad shoulders attached to his slightly strained neck, his chiseled arms and pecs and abs around you, on top of you, those blue eyes dangerously dark, his hair looking that perfect just-woke-up messy.

You whimpered at the sight and the feeling of him, just…everywhere around you, and he sucked in a sharp breath hearing you. You knew all hope was lost then.

“Ken,” you whispered, your hand cradling his face the way he loved, and he leaned into it and hummed the same way he always did. “Just…please be gentle.”

“I’ve got you.” Ken pulled you a little father down the bed, just below where your head touched the pillows, and unzipped his jeans, ridding himself of them quickly. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen his member looking that strained before, and you shuddered, trying to prepare yourself. He towered over you as he pulled both of your legs up and apart, resting your ankles by his face so as he bent over you, your legs were being pushed back to leave you completely open for him.

You had the slightest moment of panic, from where you weren’t sure, other than you had never been this overwhelmed from sex before.

“Please don’t hurt me.” The words escaped your mouth before you knew it, and a tear streamed down your cheek.

Ken looked at you, forcing his face to calm down so you saw him as he always wanted you to see him, as someone who loved you. He kissed right above one of your ankles. “I would never hurt you.”

He wanted to take you then, bury his cock into you roughly and you would scream his name is ecstacy and you would cum trembling and falling apart completely and you would adore how he could make you feel this way, but he paused, realizing you needed a little more care before he could continue.

Hooking your knees over his shoulders again, he lowered himself over you, and you gripped the sheets, waiting for him to penetrate you. Instead, he took one of your nipples into his mouth softly, moaning as his lips just barely sucked on it, his tongue tracing circles around it that made you shiver, but he watched you as the tiniest of smiles ghosted across your face, your eyes closed, and he knew he was on the right track.

Your moans sounded so soft and sweet as he did this to your other nipple, your body relaxing and after a bit your hands running through his hair, which *he* loved.

Your breathing returned to normal, he touched his forehead to yours. You opened your eyes and immediately became lost in his.

“Hi.”

You giggled a little. “Hi.”

He watched you closely as he lowered his hips into yours, his cock rubbing alongside your vulva, and you jerked the tiniest bit from the sensation.

“How is that?” He asked, doing it again, a little harder.

He was going to wait for your reply but wanted to test something. “Think you can take it for me, like a good girl?”

He was enthralled when your mouth dropped open a little, your sex-dazed face looking so ready to be fucked, and he contemplated fucking into your mouth for a moment before forcing his mind back into focus.

“Can you handle just a little more?” He pressed his tip into your opening, and you automatically clenched tightly, causing a deep rumble in his chest.

His eyes met yours, dangerous, almost past the point of no return. “You ready to prove who you fucking belong to?”

Your eyes went wide as he bottomed out in with a single thrust and you both moaned in unison, your nails digging into his arms, your head back.

Ken leaned down to suck on your throat right before his second thrust, as swift and harsh as the first, and he swore if he didn’t want to make certain you came again that he would lose it within a matter of seconds. You pulsed around him, so warm and tight, and he growled as he began to fuck into you, making every thrust count, as you cried out every time he bottomed out into you, leveraging your legs so you were unable to do anything other than lay there and try to breathe.

“Ken,” your mangled cry caught his attention but he didn’t stop his movements.

“Need more, y/n? Need some more, like my good girl?”

He leveraged himself above you so instead of your hips meeting horizontally, he pushed your legs back so your hips were slightly off the bed and you were held open for him to sink into almost vertically.

He sunk directly into you, your legs straight and resting on his shoulders, his hands on either side of you holding himself up, and you screamed and fisted the sheets over your head.

Your body began to tremble now, and you had no control over it as the pain of being penetrated so deeply got mixed with how fucking *GOOD* it felt too, and watching Ken being the one to do this to you whenever you felt you could keep your eyes open for a moment made it all the better.

You *did* feel really overwhelmed, though. The dizziness from before had returned and was slowly threatening to take over completely.

You must have shown signs of distress because you heard Ken speaking over you, although not letting up on his thrusts. “Hey,” he soothed, “are you okay?”

“I’m…overstimulated..” you choked.

“Mmmmm…” Ken ponders this, leaning down so his hips were literally touching your own. “Do you need me to stop?”

You shook your head quicker than you had expected to, and if you had been looking you would have seen Ken smile. You felt his hot breath caress your ear before biting your lobe.

“You can take it for me, though, can’t you?”

If you had been asked to describe the next few minutes you were never would have been able to, as your senses became thrown into what you could only describe as chaos. Ken fucked you, held you, sucked on you until you were shaking uncontrollably, your voice hoarse. You swore you heard him speaking but couldn’t make out any of the worlds, your head swam so dizzingly with trying to comprehend the overstimulation.

Tears fell down your face when your orgasm hit, and you screamed to be able to get through it. You might have made it up but later on you thought you remembered hearing Ken whispering, “I love you, fuck, I love you so much, y/n. Fall apart for me,” as your body was racked with pleasure so intense it touched on being painful.

Ken immediately came after, his final few thrusts destroying you as he finally lowered your legs back onto the bed. He kept his cock buried inside of you as he lowered himself back over you, forearms on either side of your head again, and kissed you and praised you endlessly as he surrounded your trembling body.

“I’ll get you back, you fucker.” Your words were hoarse and breathy.

Ken laughed at your threat, and you managed a small smile despite your exhaustion. “I know you will,” he said, nuzzling his nose into yours.

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Tags: @microwgreen @skeletonea @sunpuffsstuff @maxcsworld @michaelslover @mk21-k @uncle-eggy @heyareyoulistening @cliffbar-booth @ervas-venenosas @stuslover @exo-wayv

Comment below to be added to my tag list, especially if you’re excited for Jealous Ken ;)

[seagreenstardust]

Okay but Katsuki definitely does not know Izuku’s on the fast train back to quirkless. “Don’t let me surpass you” has to hit SO different when Izuku gets a chance to process it

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘

[smilesrobotlover]

First| <-previous next-> (coming soon)

AO3

Chapter 7- The Meeting

The letter from Link has been haunting Zelda since she’s read it. She had planned to meet with the resistance in two days, and even moved her schedule around for it, but Link was demanding to meet with them now. It seemed that they would be here tonight, but Zelda was struggling to make time to meet them.

During the many meetings, it was all she could think about. How she was going to get to Telma’s bar, how she was going to disguise herself as Sheik, what she was going to say to Edmund and Amber. She was probably going to miss supper for this, but it was fine, this was more important than supper. She just wished that it hadn’t happened so last minute.

Goddesses, why couldn’t they wait two more days?

She didn’t pay attention to any of the meetings, anxious to get them done and to leave to get to the next one. She’d nearly fallen asleep countless times, and Edmund would discreetly wake her back up so she wouldn’t humiliate herself—which she was grateful for. She really wasn’t fit for any of this queen business at the moment, but there was so much to do, such little time.

As soon as the current meeting ended, Zelda found herself sitting in her chair, staring blankly at the wall instead of rushing to get to lunch. This was her only break, and she didn’t have the energy to move. Edmund didn’t move either, and he spoke to the nobles and representatives for Zelda as she stared. Soon the room was empty, and the two were left alone.

“Zelda,” Edmund started softly.

“It’s fine, Edmund. I just need a moment.”

Edmund stared at her. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“No I was not.”

“You’ve missed breakfast these past few days.”

“I have.”

“And you’re about to miss lunch.”

“That’s fine.”

“And you look like death.”

Zelda gave Edmund an annoyed look and he leaned forward. “Zelda, you’re killing yourself. Why don’t you tell me everything that’s happening? Why don’t you let me help?”

Zelda continued to stare silently, not in the mood to argue.

“Look, I’m worried about you. I do… care about you. We were good friends as kids, and those memories I can’t forget. I want you to be taken care of, is that so wrong?”

Zelda stayed silent.

“You’re exhausted and you’re hungry,” Edmund continued when she said nothing, “I don’t want to think about how dehydrated you are. Just, come to lunch, take a break, and take care of yourself.”

“I can’t take a break whenever I want, I have too much to do—“

“Oh my Labryn, Zelda, the nobles can wait! They can wait for you! You need to take care of yourself first!”

Zelda sighed and stood up. “I’m not in the mood for this right now, Edmund.”

“When will you be in the mood? When you’re on your deathbed? I’m not wanting to wait until then!”

The queen didn’t respond and went to walk away. It was childish to not say anything, but she was too tired to argue. Too tired to think of something to say. She was just… so tired…

She reached the door and leaned against the wall, holding her aching head. She suddenly felt lightheaded and sick to her stomach. She heard footsteps approach her from behind and she gave Edmund a glare.

“Zelda?”

She huffed and reached for the door, but black dots appeared in her vision, and she felt herself begin to stagger.

“Zelda!”

Her stomach did somersaults as she began to fall, and soon she was surrounded by darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was beginning to set as Rusl and Link arrived at castle town. They moved quickly through the field, and Link could tell Epona was enjoying the free movement. She had become just as stir-crazy as he did after his adventure, so when she had a chance to move around outside of Ordon, she clearly enjoyed herself. When they arrived, they quickly got off their horses and headed into the town, trying not to take up too much space with their large animals. Normally, Link would let Epona roam free in the field while he did his errands in town, but after what he’s found out, he decided against it. It took a while to get to the bar; surprisingly the town was busy despite the day coming to an end, and people were always blocking their way, causing the horses to grow upset with the small space. Rusl and Link finally were able to tie their horses to a post near Telma’s bar where less people were at, and they hopped down the stairs and entered it. The bar was relatively empty, save for a few patrons who were quietly drinking by themselves. As usual, the place was dark and was only lit up by torches and candles scattered throughout. In the back, Telma and Auru were chatting at the table they all normally sat at, and Telma’s face lit up when she saw the two men, quickly burying them both in a hug when they got close.

“Link! Rusl! It’s so good to see you two!” She exclaimed, giving their shoulders a firm pat when she pulled away. Link smiled politely and let her lead the two men to the back table, where Auru was smiling.

“I figured you’d both be here tonight,” Auru said, ruffling Rusl’s hair as he sat down. “So what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything after Ashei and Shad get here,” Rusl said simply, fixing his ruffled hair.

“Hm, we sure they’ll be here tonight? This was pretty last minute.” Auru asked, leaning forward to look at both Rusl and Link.

“I know, I know it’s inconvenient but… it’s important,” Rusl frowned as Telma set down a mug of ginger ale in front of him, which he began to pick at mindlessly. “Me and Link found what’s been causing these disappearances, there’s no need to waste time anymore.”

Auru raised his eyebrows and he nodded knowingly. “Well then, that is quite important.”

Link nodded, staring at the milk in front of him—neither him nor his father bothered to drink anything. It was silent for a moment until Rusl awkwardly cleared his throat, catching Link and Auru’s attention.

“Well, we’re lucky you’re here, we won’t have to wait for you. You’re a lot harder to get a hold of than the others,” Rusl stated with a smile, and Auru gave a hearty laugh.

“Oh, my boy, I haven’t left castle town in weeks.”

“Did Sheik send you a letter?”

“He did. He told me to ask around castle town to gather information. It’s the only thing I’m capable of doing now,” Auru leaned back in his chair and stretched slowly, a pained expression on his face. “I’m getting too old for all this action.”

Rusl frowned and went back to staring at his drink. Link studied his father’s face, but it remained blank. When he really wanted to be, he was a master at hiding his emotions. There was a moment of silence again, being interrupted by Telma coming by to bring food for the two men, and Link couldn’t help but cheer softly.

“Oh goddesses, thank you Telma,” he said, already digging in, “I’m starvin’.”

Telma laughed and patted his shoulder. “I figured you’d both be hungry from the journey!”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Telma,” Rusl chuckled slightly, and Telma lightly punched his shoulder.

“Oh, you hush, it’s the least I can do for my friends! Now eat up while we wait for the lovebirds to arrive!”

Link stared at Telma as she walked away, and he turned to look at Auru. “Are Ashei and Shad—“

“Engaged.”

Link’s mouth dropped. “Engaged? When did this happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

Rusl and Link both glanced at each other in shock. Link knew that there was something going on between them, but after ten years, he figured that it was nothing.

“How did you know about this?” Link asked.

“They announced it when they stopped by,” Auru explained, gesturing with his hands. “I hang around here most of the time so me and Telma got to hear about it.”

“It’s about time,” Rusl scoffed, a teasing smile on his lips. “Those two were drivin’ me crazy!”

“No kidding! It’s a little late though. I doubt Ashei would be able to have kids at her age.”

Rusl’s face scrunched up. “What are you talkin’ about? She’s barely thirty! And you’re a fool if you think that Ashei and Shad would even want kids.”

“Oh come now, they’re good with kids!”

Rusl gave Link a look and he snorted. They both knew that they were terrible with kids. They could keep them alive, but they couldn’t keep them from crying. Auru rolled his eyes and waved his hand away.

“I just think it’s a waste to get married and then not have kids.”

“That’s an old way of thinking, Auru,” Rusl said, finally taking a sip of his ginger ale. “Some people don’t need to have kids. It ain’t our business what they want to do anyways.”

Auru scoffed slightly, but he didn’t continue. Link continued to eat in silence, not realizing how sloppy he was being. He was ravenous. He felt Auru watching him and he looked up.

“What?”

“You’re eating like a growing teenage boy. When was the last time you ate?” Auru teased slightly, and Link scratched the back of his head.

“It’s… actually been less than two days,” he muttered, giving Rusl a look. Neither of them ate dinner before searching the woods. They spent the next day sleeping and then the whole day traveling. Auru’s eyes widened when Rusl and Link remained silent, both having guilty looks on their faces.

“Neither of you have eaten in two days?” He asked, shocked.

“Maybe a bit longer than that–” Link muttered, and Rusl jabbed at him lightly.

“It’s fine—“ Rusl quickly said, but Auru shook his head.

“Eat that food Telma gave you, boy!” He commanded in a stern tone. Rusl quickly turned to the food and started eating it, looking like a guilty kid. Link snorted slightly and his pa glared him down. Auru patted his back with a satisfied look and leaned back.

“Must’ve been a crazy few days. What did Sheik have you do?”

“He wanted us to investigate a missing woman and Goron from Kakariko,” Link answered since Rusl’s mouth was full of bread.

“Ah, so that’s how you found it.”

Link glanced at Rusl who went back to staring blankly at the food. Auru picked up on the mood change and frowned.

“What is it?”

“We’ll explain when Shad and Ashei get here,” Rusl said quietly. Auru looked between the two and frowned.

“Alright,” he said, a worried look on his face as he stared at Rusl. It grew silent at the table again and the old man glanced up, his face lighting up. “Speaking of…”

Link turned around and saw Ashei and Shad walking to the group. Ashei looked annoyed while Shad smiled at the group. Rusl turned as well and shot up from his seat, marching towards the two.

“Hey! You two jerks!” He shouted, pulling them both into a hug. “You can’t just get engaged and not tell me!”

“Well next time, be here when we visit!” Shad teased, hugging him back. Ashei smiled slightly and gave Link a nod as he walked up to the two.

“When’s the wedding?” Rusl asked, his hands on the two’s arms.

“Don’t know yet, we’re just playing it by ear,” Shad answered, looking at Ashei who nodded.

“We’re in no rush,” she added.

“Well, you better have me as your best man, alright?” Rusl said with a smirk.

“My dear Rusl, I wouldn’t have it any other way!” Shad laughed. He glanced at Link and walked towards him. “And how are you doing, old boy?”

Link chuckled and gave him a side hug. “I’m doin’ fine. I’m happy for y’all!”

“Oh thank you,” Shad glanced at Ashei who was chatting with Rusl, a happy expression on his face. “I wouldn’t have imagined being with her, but here we are.”

“Love is a fickle thing, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is.”

Rusl and Ashei walked up to the two. “Let’s sit down and talk, yeah?” Ashei started, “I want to know why you both were so intent on meeting today.”

“We can’t, not without Sheik,” Rusl sighed, sitting down. “He’s not here yet.”

“This has been eating me up inside, and you’re saying I have to wait longer?” Shad said lightheartedly.

Ashei pulled Shad down in the seat next to hers and gave him a look. “Sheik may be busy, this was pretty last minute, yeah?”

“So I’ve been told,” Rusl grumbled. Auru patted him on the shoulder with a chuckle, and the group started to lightly poke fun at Rusl. Telma came by with food and drinks for the couple that arrived, and she closed the curtains to give them privacy.

“Tell me when you start talking about what happened,” she said, “I still have work to do, but I’ll be sure to kick everyone out.”

“Sure thing Telma,” Link said with a nod, and the curtains were fully closed, leaving the group isolated from the drunkards that came to the bar.

“So… what did Sheik have you two do?” Link asked the couple, and they glanced at each other.

“Sheik told us to help investigate the disappearances with a captain named Hoz,” Ashei answered. “We really weren’t finding anything of importance though.”

“Ah, did you come here with him?”

“No, he was quite intent on continuing the investigations,” Shad jumped in, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That was the most focused soldier of Hyrule I’ve ever met.”

“It’s good, Hyrule needs more men like him,” Ashei said, staring at her drink.

“Though he was sort of a pain to work with,” Shad mumbled.

Ashei snorted. “He was. Everything needed to go his way otherwise he would implode.���

“... Does Hyrule still need more men like him?” Auru asked cheekily, and Ashei glared at him.

“Yes.”

Shad laughed slightly and sat up straight. “Yes yes, he was still good to work with. I’m glad that some soldiers are still trying to do their jobs.”

Ashei gave a knowing nod and took a sip of her drink as the others mumbled in agreement. The group started to chat about mundane things, how they were doing, how the families were doing, and what they had planned afterwards. Link was constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting Sheik to suddenly appear (which he did every time they met up), yet there was no sign of him. Rusl was getting more anxious as the evening went on, constantly fidgeting with his hands or pacing the small room, pretending to be observing the wall. Soon it became too late–the bar was fully empty as Telma closed it down and kicked out angry drunks, and the only area lit up was the back room where the resistance sat. Yet no sign of Sheik, and Auru finally let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t think Sheik is coming.”

“We just need to be patient,” Ashei said, “she’s a busy person.”

Auru frowned. “‘She?’ You think Sheik’s a woman?”

Ashei’s eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “W-well, Sheik is just a mysterious person, that’s all. I uh… say she could be a woman… or… something.”

The group stared at Ashei who stared hard at her drink.

“And what makes you think they’re a woman?” Auru pressed, a teasing smile on his lips.

“What makes you think they’re a man?” Ashei snapped back, getting angry. Auru raised his hands defensively.

“I’m just teasing you. You just never get flustered like that!”

Ashei glared at him and started cursing under her breath in frustration. Shad cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around her.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if Sheik is a man or a woman, what matters is that they’re not here right now.” He glanced up at Rusl who was still pacing back and forth near a corner. “We should start without them.”

Ashei sighed and nodded, a defeated look on her face. Auru nodded as well and stood up to drag Rusl back to the table. Link stared worriedly at his pa as he sat down, his face drained of all blood as he stared blankly at the table.

“Goddesses, are you alright?” Shad asked, and Rusl waved his concern away.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled. The group didn’t seem convinced by that answer, but they didn’t say anything else.

“Well, Link, Rusl,” Auru started, “tell us what happened. What is taking these missing people?”

Link glanced at Rusl who was still staring at the table, and he stood up, deciding to lead the conversation.

“Do you guys remember the shadow beasts?”

The group all froze, staring at Link with wide eyes.

“Shadow beasts? You mean those horrible black creatures that plagued all of Hyrule during the Twilight invasion?” Shad asked, and Link nodded.

“Yes, I… me and my pa found one in the woods… two nights ago,” Link frowned for a moment, that night feeling ages ago. He continued, “I think it’s a shadow beast that’s gotten stronger for the past ten years. It’s what’s been taking these people.”

“Oh… Labryn…” Ashei muttered under her breath.

“How do you know it’s the cause of all these disappearances?” Auru asked.

“We–uh—” Link glanced at Rusl who was still unmoving. “We sorta… found out the hard way…”

“Oh no… did someone–?” Shad started, but Link quickly stopped him.

“No, no it’s ok. I was able to stop the abduction but… I think it’s pretty obvious that this… mutated shadow beast is what’s causing all the disappearances.”

“Ok,” Ashei breathed out, “so it’s one of those shadow beasts, a little mutated, but we know what it is now. We should go out looking for it, yeah?”

Link pursed his lips. “Yes, but… be warned. I fought so many of those things by myself back then–”

“Yes you did! You were marvelous with the way you slashed them with your sword!” Shad exclaimed, swinging his arm around as if he had a weapon. Link smiled but it quickly went away.

“Yeah, well… I fought this one, and it didn’t die no matter what I did, so… I think we should be careful. We can’t underestimate this thing.”

The group nodded.

“Alright, well, thank you for telling us Link,” Auru said. “No one in Castle Town described anything like that.”

“No kidding,” Ashei replied and Link nodded glumly. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let such a thing live, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over it.

“Well, it’s late, we can discuss plans tomorrow, but in the meantime, I think we should all get some rest,” Auru stared sternly at Rusl and Link, “you two especially. I can tell you need it.”

Link smiled slightly and Rusl got up quietly, leaving the room in an instant. The group stared in shock as he disappeared behind the curtain. Auru looked at Link and pointed at where Rusl left.

“Is he alright?”

“I… I don’t know…” Link looked down, debating on whether he should tell them the details of what happened, but he really didn’t want to, and he didn’t know if Rusl would want him to. “He’s probably just tired… the uh… the shadow beast was… aggressive to say the least. I’m gonna go talk to him real quick.”

He felt everyone’s eyes on him as he left, and he glanced at Telma who looked worried, but she forced a smile when she saw Link.

“Did you all start the conversation without me?”

“Oh— goddesses Telma I’m so sorry—“

Telma waved his apology away. “I’ll make the others tell me. Rusl went upstairs, sweet pea.”

Link nodded and slowly walked up the stairs, his entire body suddenly feeling heavy. He glanced around at the secret upstairs inn, trying to remember which one was normally reserved for him and Rusl. He poked his head in the first room, finding Rusl laying on one of the beds, his hands resting on his face. Rusl flinched when he sensed another person near him, but he quickly relaxed when it was Link.

“Spirits, Link,” he chuckled, lying back down. Link smiled and sat down on the other bed across from him.

“Pa… are you…?” He started, but he stopped when Rusl glanced at him. Rusl’s face didn’t hold any annoyance, but instead guilt. He sat up and sighed.

“I’m ok, Link. I’m… sorry for how I was acting down there… I just…” Rusl paused for a moment before sighing again, resting against the wall. Link tilted his head

“What?”

“Oh… it’s not your burden to bear.”

“Well… I kinda already know why you’re upset so… hiding it from me is a fruitless effort.”

Rusl grinned slightly. “I suppose so… I just…. Ever since that night I’ve been feeling so… terrified every waking moment—no—even when I’m trying to sleep I’m terrified, I just—“ he stopped himself and rubbed his face. “I don’t know.”

Link frowned. “I know the shadow beasts would turn people into other shadow beasts, maybe you’re still feeling the effects from that?”

Rusl shrugged, a disturbed look on his face.

“You… also were almost eaten,” Link chuckled darkly, “that would traumatize anyone.”

Rusl smirked slightly, but it quickly went away, so Link continued.

“I mean… I know I’ve nearly been eaten myself. So many times. By giant plants, and a giant eel, and wolfos trying to tear me to pieces, and spiders, and I guess smaller plants too, plus another giant spider, and possibly a lot of other things and—“

Rusl’s face had grown more concerned the longer Link rambled, and he quickly tried to recover.

“I-I mean, I turned out fine! Maybe? I mean maybe I haven’t turned out fine but—but it’s fine! I’ve kinda gotten used to it, everything trying to eat me. Heh, it makes me wonder if I taste good. I mean Midna will definitely say that I taste good but, you know—“

“Link, I don’t need to know this,” Rusl interrupted him, though he almost seemed amused. Link blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head.

“S-sorry, that kinda came out.”

Rusl chuckled slightly, which made Link feel a little better. He observed his father’s tired face and frowned.

“Pa… you should get some rest.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow. “Doting and worrying is supposed to be my job Link, not yours.”

“Well, who did I get it from?” Link rebutted, and Rusl laughed.

“Correction then: doting is a parent’s job.”

“But I am a parent.”

“Not my parent!”

Link snorted and Rusl joined him in his laughter. It felt good to laugh after these past few days. Link sniffed and sighed, staring at Rusl’s bed.

“You should get some rest though, Pa.”

“You should get some rest too, Link.”

Link pursed his lips and looked down, shifting uncomfortably.

“Not as much as you.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow. “How much sleep have you gotten in the past forty-eight hours?”

Link clamped his mouth shut. “I… um… like… four…. hours…?”

Rusl smirked and gestured for him to come over. Link sighed and trudged over to him, the lack of sleep catching up to him. He rested against Rusl’s side while he wrapped his arm around him, and Link finally relaxed. It always felt good to be held by one of his parents. Being an adult, it didn’t happen as often compared to when he was a kid. Rusl started playing with the tip of his ear and he lightly kissed his forehead.

“I’m proud of you, Link,” he said softly.

“For what?”

“For becoming the man you are today. You’re a good person, determined, and kind. And I’m proud of you for it.”

Link smiled slightly. “But you and ma raised me to be that way.”

“Oh, we were only trying to nudge you kids in the right direction. Ultimately, it was you who chose to become a good person. Give yourself more credit.”

Link sighed and drowsiness began to get the better of him.

“Thanks. I love you pa.”

Sleep began to take over him as he heard his pa say one last thing.

“I love you too, my son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zelda awoke with a jolt. She was in her bed, her heavy dress was replaced with a lighter one, and her daughter was reading a book by her side. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, startling Amber.

“Mother! You’re awake!” She exclaimed, closing her book. “We were so worried!”

Zelda looked around the room, confused. How long has she been out?

“Father came to me and asked me to stay by your side! I hadn’t left once!” Amber continued. “I’ve just been reading this book about birds, I’m hoping to find one to match the birds Hylians used to ride, but so far none of them have been big enough…”

“Amber,” Zelda rubbed her eyes, still feeling exhausted. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s in meetings right now, he said he’ll come by to see if you’re awake!”

Zelda groaned and rubbed her face. What had been happening while she was out? She hated not being in control of everything.

“I hope you’re alright,” Amber added quietly, and Zelda glanced over at her. She had a worried look on her face, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m fine, thank you for watching over me,” Zelda said with a smile, and Amber beamed at the praise.

“I’m so glad mother! Do you want me to fetch you some supper? It’s a little late but—“

“Wait, how long have I been asleep?”

“Oh! Um… a few hours.”

Zelda tried to hide her frustration, and she turned away as she groaned. She didn’t have time for this. She still needed to meet with the resistance! If she didn’t leave now…

Amber gasped as Zelda started to get out of bed, ignoring the vertigo that assaulted her.

“Um… mother? Father told me to make sure you stayed in bed a-and—“

“I’ll be fine, Amber,” Zelda grumbled, but she knew she wouldn’t be. It didn’t matter though, she needed to be somewhere.

“But… father said…” Amber’s voice trailed off, and Zelda heard another person enter the room.

“Zelda,” Edmund’s voice called out, and she sighed. Great.

“Father!” Amber hopped up and ran to him. “Mother’s awake! Do you want me to get a meal for her?”

“No, I already sent a maid to do that, my dear. You go get yourself to bed.”

Amber nodded and looked back at Zelda. “Goodnight mother.”

Zelda smiled slightly. “Goodnight Amber.”

She lingered for a moment, her mouth agape, but she finally turned away and left the room. Edmund and Zelda remained silent, both staring intensely at each other. Finally, Edmund let out a huff and started to walk forward.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said, “I brought you something.”

Zelda frowned. “What is it?”

Edmund sat down on the bed with her and handed her a little box. She carefully opened it to reveal a chocolate orange. She blinked several times, wondering if the lack of sleep had finally caught up to her and that she was hallucinating it. But the smell hit her nostrils, and she lightly traced the chocolatey edges.

“I remember you loved these things as a kid,” Edmund muttered, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I always hated them, but I did enjoy eating one slice with you whenever you had them.”

Zelda couldn’t help but smile as she grabbed a slice of the chocolate. She glanced at Edmund and her smile dropped slightly.

“How do you know I still love these?” She asked, and Edmund took in a quiet, deep breath.

“Do you?”

Zelda looked down and put one in her mouth. The chocolate instantly melted as it hit her tongue, the sweet flavor mixing with the tanginess of the orange rewarding her taste buds, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes in satisfaction. She hasn’t had one of these in years.

“It seems you still like it,” Edmund chuckled. Zelda opened her eyes and turned away, embarrassed.

“Yes,” she mumbled. Edmund hummed and leaned back, resting on his hands.

“I’m glad.”

Zelda turned to look at him, his mustache lifted up with his smile. “Why’d you bring this to me?” She asked.

“Oh, I figured you’d need an energy boost. Chocolate does wonders for that,” Edmund reached for a slice. “May I?”

Zelda nodded and offered one to him. He took a slice and bit into half of it. His face scrunched up in disgust and he covered his mouth. “Eugh, I still don’t like it.”

Zelda smiled and almost let out a giggle. “That’s quite a shame, they’re so delightful.”

Edmund grinned and stared at the uneaten slice. “I probably should’ve put the full thing in my mouth, now what will I do with this?”

Zelda stared at it for a moment, and before she could even think, she plucked it out of his hand.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” she said before putting the rest of the slice in her mouth. Edmund looked surprised but his expression softened into a pleasant smile. Zelda looked away, her face flushing slightly, and she picked at the remaining chocolates. “Thank you for this Edmund, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Edmund nodded. “Of course. I… I just want to help out.”

It grew silent between the two—any feeling of contentment was gone in an instant. Edmund picked up on Zelda’s discomfort and he let out a sigh.

“Why won’t you accept my help?”

Zelda glanced up at him. Where an accusatory and bitter tone normally was, this time, there was just curiosity. He was trying, it was only fair that Zelda tried as well.

But could she trust him?

It was kind of him to try to help her, but was he trying to manipulate her into trusting him? She remembered her father always showering her mother with gifts whenever he did something to upset her. It was always a way to regain her trust. Was Edmund trying to do the same?

“Listen, becoming the king of Hyrule hasn’t been an easy transition for me,” Edmund started, his back turned to Zelda, “Labrynna gives its power to the king, but here in Hyrule, all of the power goes to the queen.” He let out a breath while Zelda remained silent. He’s never told her this before. “I admit I’ve felt…. Emasculated as a result, and I’ve been acting childish because of it. For that I am sorry.” He glanced back at Zelda, an almost worried expression on his face, but Zelda stayed quiet. “But, I feel useless. I feel like I’m being used for my connection to my family, and that I’m nothing more than an object to your people and… I suppose that’s why I’ve been… frustrated about you keeping things to yourself. But… looking at you now, I’ve grown more worried than upset. You’ve overworked yourself so much to the point that you collapsed. That’s not a good thing. I suppose I… I just want to know why you’re so intent on doing everything yourself, when I’m here to… help you.”

Zelda stared at him for a moment, his emerald green eyes never leaving hers. For once, Zelda couldn’t find her words. She knew she should try to communicate with him—he was being so open with her, but why? Was he trying to worm his way into her life? Or was he being genuine? He’s never taken the time to sit down and talk to her about things, but then again, Zelda never gave him the chance. Did he deserve her to try to be open as well? She turned away, emotions running rampant. She couldn’t cry, it wasn’t queenly to do so, but she was so tired. She took a deep breath to control herself.

“I… I don’t know if I can trust you,” she finally said softly. She felt Edmund shift beside her.

“Why?”

“I–I’ve watched my father strip my mother of all her power. He took everything away from her, ruled Hyrule as a tyrant, and took control of every aspect of my life. It doesn’t matter if Hyrule gives the power to the queen, the king can take over and I can’t let that happen again. It’s happened to me twice now and… I just… I–” She hiccuped slightly and she rubbed her exhausted eyes. It was quiet as she once again tried to take control of her emotions, and she glanced up at Edmund, who looked horrified.

“I had no idea,” he finally said. “I always– I know we didn’t see each other a lot but… I didn’t know…”

Zelda sniffed and sat up straight. “My father did a good job at hiding it. And he made sure I hid it as well.”

Edmund gave her a sad look. “I’m so sorry. I…” He grew silent for a moment. “... thank you for telling me. I’ll leave you be. A maid should come by with food for you.”

“I-I can’t stay I need to–”

“Zelda.” Edmund gave her a firm look. “I…I ask that you give yourself rest and proper nourishment, please.”

Zelda stared for a moment, remembering the resistance. “I can’t. I still need to meet up with—“ she stopped herself and Edmund raised an eyebrow.

“With… your friends that are taking care of the disappearances?”

Zelda pursed her lips. “Yes.”

“Perhaps I can meet with them in your stead.”

She shook her head quickly. “No I—“ they didn’t know that she was the queen; if Edmund came instead, they would figure it out, even if one already knew about it. And she certainly couldn’t tell Edmund about Sheik. Frustration was apparent on Edmund’s face, and he sucked in a sharp breath and stood up.

“So are you just going to keep pushing yourself until you die? Sure, you may not trust me, I understand that. But you have representatives, diplomats, nobles, even guards that could go in your stead! Why can’t you utilize them?”

“Edmund. I. Can’t. A-at least…” Zelda looked down, her eyes going back and forth between the chocolate orange, the bed, and Edmund. He did have a point; she couldn’t keep going on like this. She really could end up dying from her neglect, which would be an awful thing for Amber and for the resistance. But she knew no one could help the resistance with the disappearances. She had to take care of that herself. But… perhaps with everything else…. Goddesses, she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “Could you… just take care of the meetings tomorrow? I must deal with these disappearances on my own.”

Edmund’s expression softened and he nodded. “I’ll take care of them.”

Zelda smiled. “Thank you.”

“Will you… visit Amber before you leave anywhere?”

Her lips parted and she nodded. Edmund nodded back, and for the first time in years, there was a mutual understanding between them. Edmund hesitated for a moment before finally turning to leave. Zelda was left alone, and she contemplated everything that had just happened.

She collapsed after a meeting and slept through the entire day. Her daughter stayed by her side while Edmund took care of the rest of the day. He brought her chocolates and they had a conversation that didn’t result in them fighting. They opened up to each other… and now…

She sighed. She needed to meet with the resistance, that was her first priority. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

She wasted no time to get into her disguise, despite her exhausted body and rumbling stomach. Just as she was about to sneak out, she remembered what Edmund asked of her.

“Will you… visit Amber before you leave anywhere?”

She sighed. She’s been a terrible mother to her own daughter, not spending any time with her despite Amber desperately wanting to. If the resistance needing to meet up tonight hadn’t been about the missing people, she probably would have been tempted to stay. Maybe spend time with her family, her daughter, and try to be the mother Amber deserved. But she knew this was important; it had better be important. She needed to take care of this, and she needed to find the missing people so that Hyrule would be safe for Amber. If the resistance found out important information about the disappearances—like where the missing people were—she would personally go to rescue them herself and eradicate any threat that came in her way. This threat would come to an end, Zelda would make sure of it.

But it meant she would be gone for a while. So she didn’t know when she would see Amber again.

Zelda quietly snuck into Amber’s room, her daughter curled up in her bed, clutching a bird stuffed animal to her chest. She brought her mask down and walked up to her daughter, emotions going through her once again. Her sweet little Amber, growing up before her very eyes, and she was missing all of it.

Her hand brushed against Amber’s temple and she began to stir. She looked up at her mother and furrowed her brow.

“Mother?”

Zelda’s breath hitched and she helped Amber sit up.

“Amber,” she started, “I know… I know I haven’t been the best mother, but I want you to know that I love you with every fiber of my being.” Zelda pulled Amber close and hugged her. “I love you so much.”

She rocked her back and forth, Amber clinging to her tightly. Despite her dry eyes, Zelda found tears forming, and she had to choke back a sob. Amber however wasn’t hiding her crying, and she felt her tears soaking into her clothes. She finally pulled back, wiping away a tear on Amber’s cheek and rested her forehead against hers.

“I promise I’ll try to be better,” Zelda whispered, pecking her on the forehead, and she stood up, walking towards the door.

“M-mother?” Amber called out.

“I’ll be back,” Zelda promised. “Just stay here with your father and focus on your studies. I… I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Zelda’s heart hurt more than her aching body as she turned away. How many times has she turned her own daughter away? How many times has she brushed her off when Amber reached out? She ran out, her frustrations over herself giving her the energy she needed to escape the castle. How will Amber view her when she grew older? Would she resent her the same way Zelda resented her father? Would she feel unloved by her own mother? She stopped as she reached the entrance to the courtyard, looking back at the castle. She was panting heavily, sad and angry tears finally pouring down her face.

It didn’t matter what her father tried to do to her, Zelda never felt worthy of being queen. She didn’t feel worthy of anything in her life. Especially her own daughter.

Amber deserved a better mother.

For a moment as she stared at her castle, she thought she saw Edmund watching her, but his supposed silhouette went away in an instant. She turned away, her head hanging, and finally marched to Telma’s bar.

It was late, she didn’t know how late it was, but it was late enough for no one to be out in the streets save for a few guards. Sheik’s stomach was cramping terribly, and her throat and tongue felt like sandpaper. She almost wished she stayed behind to eat the food Edmund got for her, but she knew she couldn’t let the resistance down. She leaned against a wall catching her breath, her hand rubbing against a box in her pouch. She didn’t know why she grabbed the chocolate orange Edmund gave her; she supposed she couldn’t leave it behind. She continued onward to Telma’s bar, feeling that it was a much longer walk than what she remembered. She normally went through the dungeons to reach Telma’s bar, but from how she was feeling, she didn’t have the strength to go that way. As if to prove her right, her knees nearly buckled as she went down the stairs, causing her to stumble into the door. She pulled back and blinked harshly trying to clear her head. She took a deep breath to calm herself and she went inside. The bell rang loudly through the empty bar, announcing her presence.

“Sorry, we’re closed right now,” she heard Telma call out from the back. The barmaid poked her head from the curtains and her face lit up. “Sheik! Well, it’s about time you got here, honey!”

Sheik awkwardly shuffled forward, allowing herself to be hugged by Telma.

“S-sorry I’m late,” she mumbled, not caring if Telma heard her or not.

“Oh… it’s not me you should apologize to. The others have already gone to bed, save for Ashei and Shad— well… actually it’s just Ashei,” Telma laughed slightly. Sheik was disappointed that the others had already gone to sleep, it was much later than what she hoped for, but she was slightly relieved that Ashei was the only one awake save for Telma. Though Sheik had tried to keep her Royal identity a secret, Ashei had found out about it. She had to admit, it was nice not having to hide everything from one person. She could at least confide in her with everything that has been happening.

“My, you look terrible,” Telma continued, eyeing Sheik worriedly. “Here, let me whip you up something real quick—“

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that—“ a loud grumble from her stomach interrupted her and Telma raised an eyebrow. Sheik looked down, embarrassed. “Apologies.”

“You’re alright sweetheart, just head to the back and I’ll get you some soup.”

Sheik nodded and walked to the back where she saw Ashei and Shad sitting next to each other. Shad was asleep, his head against Ashei’s shoulder, while Ashei had her arm wrapped around him. She had a pleasant smile on her lips as she watched him, until she looked up, spotting Sheik.

“Are you going to sit down, or are you going to keep watching us like a creep?” She asked, and Sheik straightened.

“A-apologies… I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Ashei glanced at Shad, then back at her. “I wanted to stay up to wait for you. I knew you’d get here eventually. He was intent on staying up with me, but I guess he couldn’t do it.”

Sheik smiled despite Ashei not being able to see it. “I’m sorry I came so late.”

“You’re fine, but what happened? Why did it take so long for you to get here?”

“I…” Sheik didn’t want to talk about her fainting today, nor about her lack of sleep, food, and water. “I’ve just been very busy.”

Ashei studied her for a moment. “Are you alright?”

Sheik looked up at her, and simply shook her head. “I’ve been very busy,” she repeated.

“Labryn… Zel—Sheik, you can leave this to the rest of us. You don’t have to help us every second, yeah?”

“I know, but I’m tired of sitting here not knowing what’s going on. Not actively trying to better my kingdom.”

Ashei shook her head. “You can’t do everything by yourself. That’s why the resistance is here, to help Hyrule.”

“I know… I know… I just…” Sheik sighed. Goddesses she was exhausted. The two grew silent until Telma came in with a bowl.

“I could only make some broth, I hope that’s ok, sweet pea.”

Sheik felt herself beginning to drool and she gratefully took the bowl. “This is wonderful, thank you, Telma,” she said. Telma gave her a soft smile.

“Of course honey! That’s why I’m here, to take care of my friends.”

The word “friends” stuck with Sheik, and she looked down at the bowl, her emotions running rampant once again, though her eyes were finally too dry to cry again.

“Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to head to bed myself.” Telma turned to Ashei with a teasing smile. “Unless you need me to carry him to bed of course.”

Ashei gave her an annoyed smirk. “I can do that myself. Thank you though.”

The barmaid gave a hearty laugh. “Alright, good night you too. And Sheik? I have some water on the table for you. Take care.”

Sheik glanced at the cup on the table, her thirst becoming unbearable.

“Thank you,” she said again, and Telma turned away, leaving the two women alone. Sheik glanced around, eyeing Shad cautiously, and Ashei caught on.

“Don’t worry, he’s out like a light.”

“But what if he wakes up and sees me without my mask?”

“Then I’ll knock him back out, yeah?”

Sheik chuckled softly and pulled her mask down. Though it wasn’t filling, the broth was amazing, and the water made her feel much better than before. She sighed as she drank the broth, feeling relief run through her body as she finally got nutrients in her body. She glanced at Ashei who watched her worriedly, and she looked down.

“How was Hoz?” Sheik asked.

“Oh, he was fine. Quite determined to find the missing people. He’s a good man.”

Sheik smiled slightly. “Indeed, he is. What did Link and Rusl need?”

Ashei’s breath hitched. “They found what’s been causing these disappearances.”

Sheik gasped and nearly dropped her bowl. Though it was exactly what she had hoped for, she was still surprised that it actually happened. “What is it? What’s causing it?”

“Link thinks it’s a shadow beast.”

Dread instantly filled Sheik’s body. Memories of the beasts breaking through her castle and slaughtering the guards came in at once, and she clenched her fists. How…?

“We hope to make a plan to hunt and kill it, but according to Link, it’s gotten powerful over the past ten years, and it won’t die so easily.”

Sheik swallowed hard and nodded. “I see… any… any news on the people?”

Ashei shook her head sadly. “No, they only mentioned the beast I’m afraid.”

Sheik slumped slightly. If it was a shadow beast taking these people then… they probably weren’t alive anymore. She remembered watching Zant turn her guards into shadow beasts before her eyes, even those who weren’t personally cursed turned when beside them. Even her own parents turned into creatures of darkness…

Were the people dead? Or had they turned into shadow beasts, doomed to be mindless monsters until they’re put out of their misery? Sheik didn’t know. But if that were the case, wouldn’t they have known about the resurgence of shadow beasts? Either way, Sheik was having a hard time being hopeful about the fate of the missing people.

“We’re going to be doing a lot of planning tomorrow,” Ashei continued, “I don’t know when we’ll head out, but if you’re wanting to come with us, I suggest you get some rest, yeah?”

Sheik looked up at Ashei who had a firm expression on her face. Sheik had grown tired of everyone telling her to rest, but with the food and water in her system, she couldn’t fight back the sleepiness.

“Alright,” she mumbled before standing up, staring at her empty bowl confused.

“I can take care of that,” Ashei said, and Sheik set it down awkwardly. “We can talk more tomorrow, yeah?”

Sheik nodded and dragged herself up the stairs where several rooms were hidden. Her eyes were barely open as she tried to find a room to go in. She typically took the first room, so she opened the door and threw her head cover and mask off, closing the door behind her which left the room in total darkness. She stumbled over to the bed closest to her and fell asleep before her head could even hit the pillow.

[greenheartart]

Ahh! I just noticed my blog crossed over the 5k follower mark! Thank you to everyone who's following and enjoying my art and stories!! ♥

My bf suggested I do something special to celebrate, and I think a little one shot comic sounds like fun. I'm not sure what I want it to be about yet though, so how about you guys help me decide? Pick your fav below, and I'll figure out something fun to do with the 3 characters that get the most votes!

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college? 

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now. 

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.   

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it. 

They’re still not sure if they should let him go. 

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in. 

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves. 

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being. 

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things. 

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.) 

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad. 

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air. 

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to. 

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud. 

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words. 

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil. 

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died. 

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.) 

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”) 

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.) 

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.) 

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core. 

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help. 

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.” 

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.) 

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.) 

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples. 

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself. 

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them. 

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own. 

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop. 

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story. 

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.) 

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest. 

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.” 

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders. 

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.” 

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.” 

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.) 

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face. 

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time. 

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air. 

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise. 

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.  

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. 

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything. 

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call. 

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?” 

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame. 

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth. 

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.” 

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.” 

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs. 

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem. 

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.” 

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.” 

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it. 

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.” 

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth. 

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him. 

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.  

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.) 

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.” 

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin. 

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better. 

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can. 

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?” 

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks. 

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall. 

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.” 

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm. 

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches. 

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood. 

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.” 

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider. 

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise. 

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle. 

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad. 

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham. 

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite. 

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune. 

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple. 

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim. 

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy. 

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes. 

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it. 

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever. 

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state. 

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Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)