#kh huff

[witchblade]

still want to replay king them hearts..

[oathkeeperoxas]

I posted 2,135 times in 2022

122 posts created (6%)

2,013 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@glimmerglanger

@maiseey

@thatrandombystander

@projectdestati

@twilightown

I tagged 2,133 of my posts in 2022

#fan made - 1,022 posts

#sw - 870 posts

#obi-wan - 482 posts

#codywan - 458 posts

#cody - 419 posts

#kh - 312 posts

#kairi - 146 posts

#the mandalorian - 125 posts

#sora - 122 posts

#riku - 101 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i would not be able to edit and tweak that much in the next 2 weeks unfortunately but i can daydream about finally getting this fic finished

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

codywan gang, listen up

Currently in 2022, we have uploaded 1,957 works to the codywan tag:

What does that mean? We only need 267 new codywan works to be published in December to get to 2224 works uploaded this year.

I’m incredibly impressed with the amount of content we’ve made this year - and if we reach 2224 works, that would be the cherry on top, so to speak. Let’s all get cracking!!

106 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#4

I’m excited to present the preview for what I’ve been working on with @sunflowersinheaven for the @codywanreversebang! It’s been lovely to see all the works come together with posting starting soon, and I hope you enjoy this little sneak peek of the fic too 💖

“What’s this I hear about you and Kenobi going on a date this morning?” Bly asks. Cody nearly chokes on his drink. “A what? There was no–” He clears his throat. “Obi-Wan and I attended an issue that needed resolving before anything got out of hand. When it was done we had brunch, and that’s it.” Obi-Wan had introduced him to the concept of brunch during their unexpected meal. Cody feels a little bit cocky that he’s managed to use it in a sentence already. “Brunch?” Bly squeaks, eyes going wide in shock. “Oh, by all things natborns hold holy, you’re oblivious. You’re both completely, utterly, unswervingly, oblivious.” Cody elbows him. Bly splutters, but he points a finger at Cody. “That’s not true,” Cody says, thinking about how he’d almost touched Obi-Wan’s hand earlier this week, and how he’d knocked their feet together under the table today. Obi-Wan had not been averse to those gestures – nor to the other dozens of occasions where nearly something more happened, whether he or Cody had almost initiated it. “We are not oblivious.” “Then what? You’ve decided to do the pining stage for so long because you can’t stand not to be the expert in something?” “That’s not it either.” “Then I’m confused,” Bly says, leaning forward. “You do acknowledge that you like Master Kenobi, right?” “Of course I like him,” Cody says, looking at Bly dubiously. “No!” Bly huffs. “I mean, you want to squish his little cheeks and see him in his bathrobe and have front row seats every time he wrecks someone’s shit.” Bly’s eyes have gone a little dreamy. Cody elbows him, which Bly protests loudly. “I think you’re projecting your feelings towards a certain someone onto me,” Cody says flatly. “You know what I mean!” Bly huffs. “You want to kiss him and hold him and you feel all fluttery and warm when you see him. Don’t lie to my face Cody, I’ve known you too long for that.” Cody had known what Bly meant the first time, but it’s always run to rile him. “Of course I like him,” he repeats dryly, and Bly groans. “Then what’s going on between you two? Come on, I gotta tell Aayla the gossip. Don’t leave me out here without any backup. She has a mean streak, I swear.” “Try squishing her little cheeks,” Cody suggests, and Bly launches himself. Cody grapples with him, until Bly plays dirty by tickling him in the one spot every clone is weak to. Cody grumbles and Bly laughs, letting him go. “Okay, but seriously,” Bly says. “You know he likes you too, right?” Cody looks out over the rest of the bar so he won’t have to answer. It’s complicated. He and Obi-Wan have been a lot of things to each other, and moving onto something else, something new, is big. Cody hasn’t done anything like it before, and he isn’t sure how to start. “Cody?” Bly insists. “You know, right?” 

114 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#3

Codywan Week 2022 Fic Rec List

Wow, there sure was a heap of works uploaded for @codywanweek this year! (approximately 140 on AO3, by my count) If you’re looking for somewhere to start browsing through all these awesome works, then please see the below list for some of my favourite fics from this year, and give them some love! 💖

Could We Start Again, Please? [2.1k] by @daughterofdungeonbat

Fic summary:

The war has ended, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody have become much more serious in their relationship, and they've spent the last day moving Obi-Wan's things into Cody's new apartment. All is going well, until Cody tries to lighten the mood and misses Anakin's frantic attempts to stop him. Or- Obi-Wan has an extra lightsaber. It is not his.

Fic rec: Really loved the character voices here, and the post-war set up and pay off really works well! Has some funny and great lines too

at the horizon’s edge [2.2k] by @inkformyblood

Fic summary:

The bed is larger than Obi-Wan is used to, even now, even after sleeping in it night after night since the day after the war was declared finished. They had made do for so long on the narrow GAR-issued cots or the cramped bunks on the ships that a large bed felt like an indulgence, something to mark the official beginnings of their relationship even though they wound up curled together more often than not. On the floor, beneath the cascade of blankets, Cody’s chest rises and falls beneath Obi-Wan’s hand. There is a hitch to his breathing, an unsteadiness that only grows as Obi-Wan shifts, skating his fingers up over the cool, bare expanse. (Cody has a nightmare, and some things cannot be faced alone.)

Fic rec: emotional and soft and intimate, with some great pose and interactions between codywan

setting sun [2.4k] by @milfmisspiggy

Fic summary:

"Fuck." "You may wear that word out if you aren't careful." "I'll switch it out when something else expresses my feelings better."

Fic rec: BITING AND CHEWING THIS. Absolutely lovely and hot smut with some Tatooine codywan!

Panacea [4k] by @missypup

Fic summary:

Cody has been falling for his General for two years. Two long, war filled years. But he's been able to stay in control of his feelings by just not acknowledging them. But having to share a bed with the man he's been daydreaming about for two years makes Cody so tense Obi-Wan decides to give him a massage to help out. Obi-Wan would certainly be the death of him.

Fic rec: I am always down for codywan massages and Cody getting some love and attention, and this provides in spades! There’s also some very sweet lines here that I loved a lot

Through An Artist’s Eyes [1.1k] by @yellowisharo

Fic summary

Another pass of his charcoal over the paper to emphasize the slight curve of the bottom of the ribcage, following the path Cody's eyes take over Obi-Wan's body.

Fic rec: artist!Cody my beloved! This fic is multimedia, and the art throughout the fic adds to the atmosphere and tone of the story in a great way

A Fool’s Errand [3.1k] by @itsgoldleaf

Fic summary:

“I killed you.” “You missed.” “I never miss.” “It was never you.” “This isn’t real.” “If you believe only one thing, believe that I am here and I am with you, and that this is real.” The second worst part is his rotten luck in having his General come back from being murdered and being so nice to him about it.

Fic rec: oh my god yall the way I am not kidding when I say this one drove me crazy... the PROSE the CHARACTER the INTERACTIONS the METAPHORS. This one really does have everything!!

Fear is a disease; hope is it’s only cure [9.7k] by @nimue44

Fic summary:

“The Sith has been hunting you and he hasn’t found you,” Ahsoka said. “Please keep it that way. The underground networks were hand-fed this intel, Obi-Wan. He wants you to know. He’s laying a trap.” “Of course he is, my dear,” Obi-Wan sighed. “And he’ll already know I’m coming.” “Obi-Wan, don’t, you’re safe here” Ahsoka pleaded. “Cody wouldn’t want you to walk into a trap just for him.” “No, he wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan agreed. Cody had raised an eyebrow at more than a few of Obi-Wan’s schemes in the past. Yet despite any of his reservations about a given gambit, Cody would join Obi-Wan on the front lines every time, even when he could have led from the fleet and let Obi-Wan clean up his own messes. “But I’m afraid his sound strategic reasoning hasn’t always foiled my plans to single handedly save the day.” OR: Two years into his exile on Tatooine, Obi-Wan comes across something in the desert that sets off a chain of events that may allow Obi-Wan to finally reclaim some peace. But first he'll have to rescue a purge trooper from the grips of the Empire.

Fic rec: I am just ajkhkfjg this one is SO GOOD. How Obi-Wan thinks/feels post O66 is so rich, and his refusal to let Cody go is just so everything aaaa. Great characterisation choices here alongside excellent writing.

See the full post

144 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

#2

229 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

For the touch ask prompts: Codywan and "shielding the other one with their body", please!

codywan, 780 words, post-war no order 66 AU

“Oh Force, Cody, save me.” 

Cody doesn’t hesitate. Between one breath and the next he sweeps Obi-Wan into his arms, holding him close against his chest, and turns so his back is facing the centre of the room. Obi-Wan curls up against his chest, tucking his head in close. They’re of a similar enough height that Cody can’t completely hide his partner, but they’re close enough that Obi-Wan can claim plausible deniability that he didn’t see anyone who was looking for him. 

“Who is it?” Cody mutters into his ear, feeling his hair tickle against his lips. He’s still not used to this – not to holding Obi-Wan so openly in public, nor the strange fit of the formal wear across his shoulders, or the tang of the exotic food in his mouth. But he’s putting on a straight face, because he’s the most highly ranked clone here – the highly formerly ranked. With the GAR dissolved at the end of the war, he has no military titles any more. That doesn’t stop Senators and governmental leaders and random people on the street from recognising him. The holo that had gone viral of him and Obi-Wan kissing at the announcement of the war’s end, and Cody had only cursed his distinctive facial scar ever since. For once, he’d be more than happy to blend in among the anonymity of his brothers. 

“The Senator from Rhydills,” Obi-Wan replies, barely loud enough that Cody can hear him. “He’s coming over – to the dance floor, quickly.” 

Cody swings Obi-Wan out among the couples that are twirling around each other, and his mouth twitches in a smile as he hears an annoyed sigh. Obi-Wan takes the lead easily, and Cody focuses on remembering the steps that he had insisted that Obi-Wan teach him the day before. He hadn’t expected to dance, but he likes to account for all possibilities, and it’s paying off now. 

“What did he want to talk about?” Cody asks, wondering if Obi-Wan is trying to put the conversation off for a minute or for forever. 

“His planet has recently undergone a civil war between the two main religions that make up the majority of the population,” Obi-Wan answers. 

“While our war was ongoing?” Cody asks, a little startled. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan snorts. “It never rains, my dear – it pours. But anyhow, he’s intent on resettling as many troopers as possible on his planet. The male population was near destroyed in the fighting, and they’re likely to have a population crisis in the next twenty years if he doesn’t make up for it somehow.” 

“With clones?” Cody asks. “But won’t that just give him a new population crisis in fifty years, when everyone’s children are related to each other?” 

“A point that I have tried to convey to him three times in the last week,” Obi-Wan sighs. “I think he is very fixated on the current moment. A regiment has resettled on Rhydills, but I think he was hoping for one of the armies instead.” 

Cody takes a moment to digest that. In the months since the war ended, there have been many offers from different planets to settle Cody’s brothers. Their contribution to the galaxy notwithstanding, Cody knows that the speed at which they learn, their adaptability, endurance, and tenaciousness of the clones in all areas, not only war, has made them attractive immigrants. Few had been willing to stay on Coruscant once the breadth of the galaxy was made available to them, though they are in the process of setting up a robust online presence to stay connected even as they scatter physically. One tenth of all of his brothers, on one planet? There’s no possibility of that happening. 

“So instead of telling him no for a fourth time, you’d prefer to dance with me?” Cody asks. He would love to kiss him, but even if their relationship is public now, he still shies away from any displays that draw attention to it. 

“If I were to list the activities I would prefer to avoid and instead dance with you, we would be here next week, my dear,” Obi-Wan says, eyes crinkling as he smiles. 

Cody holds his silence as they turn around the floor, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks as they move. “I would be here until next month,” he finally says, and Obi-Wan laughs. 

“Well, I shall not attempt to argue with that. If we’re both so invested in our time here, perhaps we should make good use of it?” 

“Yes,” Cody agrees, and pays no attention to Senators or politics or the rest of the galaxy – not when he has everything he needs right here, in his arms. 

288 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gladiolidiaries]

Alexis Ray Huff-Davidson so then quackity has to khs 🙏

Lmaoo

[meme-archivist]

It's been a long, long day.

Mikhail, drawing another pushvial of medicinal ichor from his knapsack, carefully considers it for a moment before putting it back. In peacetime such things are barely expensive, but in wartime when the governments buy all they can, each vial or ampoule is worth five times its weight.

'And it is wartime now, isn't it?' He draws the sanitized tools instead, still slightly warmed by the cleansing charms. Field medicine is... not pleasant, but the anodynes he's taken make it bearable. First, saline and a gentle prickling burning as it runs across the wound-

"-kh!"

-then, removing the dirt and debris that he can see.

"Nngh.." He does what he dares, and then puts away the tools, taking out the pushvial again. Gently, gently, a little line of beads in the cut, then press the wound together, apply pressure, all while placing another few drops of precious medicine along the edge. Cap it, return the tube to the pouch.

'Make it last. Might not even see any for a while.' The thought alone is more painful than the treatment.

Mikhail places a dressing over it, then a bandage over that. Pressure for twenty seconds...

"...Ser Mercenary?" Someone's voice intrudes into his thoughts, and he blinks, looking up.

A face of polished bronze tone, framed with dark hair and piercing gray eyes. A feminine frame, clad in nobleman's travel clothes with a suit of fine brigandine. It's... 'Damn, what was his name... Oh! Pavel Srelkan or sumn.'

"Master Pavel. Need somethin?"

The young man seems to hesitate for a second, before forging on. "Do you... resent, us?"

'What in the world brought this on? Somethin I said? Maybe I did somethin wrong? Shiiiiit...' He raises an eyebrow, and checks on his medical work. It'll heal over the next day, maybe. Two, at most. The mercenary nods to himself fractionally, and as he reclothes himself, considers his response...

"...Nah. I don't hatecha'll n your buddies..." Pausing fractionally, he adds, "...'s just the world 'bout to get real shitty."

"Then, why stay out here always?"

"You an' yours got eachother. I'd... just be an outsider." A half grin, and before Pavel can respond, he follows up. The contract doesn't make any cuts in his pay for mouthiness and it's not every day you get to poke a noble, even a shitty low one.

"You really got the leader guy of your group in your case." Almost instantly the nobleborn man colors.

"Well! Consider that to be the last time I show you so much concern!" A heel pivot turn, and he storms off in a huff. Mikhail chuckles, and moves onto the rest of his self-care.

Writing Prompt #2814

"Do you resent me?"

"I resent these circumstances. But I don't blame you for them."

[walpu]

"this is... completely different from our home planet, azar," rakhsh mumble, bewildered as his eyes scanned over the snowy plains, "you mean to tell me, you call this place 'home' now?" he inquired, now fixing his gaze on his sibling.

"look I know what you're thinking ash but hear me out," azar chuckled softly as their eyes gazed fondly at the frozen planet, "it won't always be like this, and the city doesn't look like this it's actually pretty warm and nice— not the usual humidity you like but it'll grow on you."

"still the toddler who couldn't say my name?" Rakhsh taunt's with a small smirk after hearing the old nickname. "oh come on, your name isn't easy on the tongue— who puts a 'kh' and 'sh' back to back without a vowel?" Azar huffs as they grab their chuckling brother by his forearm and drag him along with them, "mom and dad appare—" "shut up!"

——————————

"okay I'll give you that, this place is pretty nice," rakhsh murmurs quietly as his eyes roam over the scenery, trying to memorize the city's design and people. "see I told you that you'd like it!" Azar beams, their grin shining bright in happiness.

"didn't you say you have a partner, though?" the older asks as they walk through the city, "thought he'd be greeting us at the city entrance— scratch that. shouldn't he be here, now? don't tell me you made me out to be a big bad beast and scared them shitless," the pair snicker quietly alongside each other, "don't act all innocent now— you act like the sphinx or something, putting my partners under trials to see if they're a fit for me. you know a lot of people didn't go on a second date with me over you acting like that!" replies the younger, jabbing their elbow into their brother's side as he laughs out loud, "not my fault your taste in partners sucks."

"but, on a more serious note— he did plan to greet us at the city entrance, but some things came up. some issues with residual fragmentum out of the city walls... he said he'll be back as soon as it's resolved, tho," azar explains quietly, hooking their arm around the older's shoulder as they take a seat on a bench, "worst timing possible, but, these kinds of things can't be controlled..."

with a light sigh, rakhsh pat's his sibling's head gently, pulling them a bit closer by hooking his arm around their torso, "don't be like that, I'm just teasing you. I've read what you wrote to me about him— he seems like a keeper, not like someone who'd ditch you just to fuck with you." the older squeezes his sibling's shoulder.

-🐙

I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC AND IMPROVE ALSO SO HAPPY TO SEE AZAR ALIVE

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Demon final fantasy 7 and KH college au:

Emanuel: *snarls at Mr President*

Karina: Emanuel heel

Emanuel: *wolf huffs and walks to her side*

Mr President: why did you bring a mutt here?

Karina: I would roast you but my mom told me not to roast trash

Rufus: *sniffles a laugh*

Mr President: *walk off*

That night:

Rufus: *kisses her* you did well on holding your tongue princess

Rufus: do you know how much I love you

Hana: *walking with Noctis in the garden*

[wrencatte]

(oh, look, a thing)

This world is burning. Kairi chokes on dirt and dust, on tears and metallic blood bubbling in the back of her throat. She cracks her keyblade into the hard earth, muscles screaming in protest as she uses to heave herself to her feet. Her legs barely have any strength left in them, leaving her staggering.

“Riku,” she whispers, barely a sound. She coughs again, warmth trickles down her chin. She tries again, “Riku,” yet it comes out as a broken rasp. Her breaths are no more than a wheeze, her chest feels like it’s been caved in.

And yet, she puts one foot in front of the other. Even as the sky is smothered by the storm, casting everything in a twilight sort of darkness, she knows she can’t be alone. Kairi fights against the blustering winds threating to take her away, her grip on Destiny’s Embrace never wavering even as her shoes drag. Time passes slowly, the distance she walks feels like nothing….

But she keeps going, head bowed to protect her face from the sting of sand, her skin etched raw. She wipes tears away, drags her glove over the blood on her lips. Continues to move forward.

“Riku,” she murmurs, her words lost in the wind. “Riku, please—.”

She trips.

An abandoned keyblade, right in her path. Her knees crack when they hit the ground, her palms scrape raw from when she tries to catch herself. She stays there, stunned, on her hand and knees, eyes wide at the abandoned keyblade. Because she knows this keyblade, from the wide blade to the dark guard and handle. The familiar three circle charm is coated in dust, one the links threating to pull apart.

Kairi takes it with a shaking hand, searching around frantically for the owner. She spots him only a few feet away, laying still and silent, face turned away from her. She scrambles towards him, barely getting off the ground, both keyblade screeching against the hard earth.

“Riku!” she cries. She drops their weapons, shakes his back. Tears spring forward anew; thick sobs break through her chest. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t even seem to be breathing. Blood coats the side of his face, staining his silver hair.

(oh look, another thing)

Sora can’t move. Can’t blink. Can’t even breath. Vanitas smirks, something wicked and twisted, and stalks around him in a slow circle. When he disappears behind him, panic leaps to his throat, choking him.

“You’re afraid of me,” Vanitas remarks, appearing on Sora’s other side.

No, he thinks. No, he lies. Vanitas’ smirk grows. He reaches out, cupping Sora’s face with both hands. If he could, Sora would flinch. Fear runs down his back, his eyes sting. Vanitas’ fingers are cold against his skin, his thumbs rough where they dig into the soft flesh under Sora’s eyes.

“Shame,” he says, soft, dangerous. “It would probably save you if you were.”

His jaw creaks, his throat burns. “Don’t touch me,” Sora whispers.

Vanitas laughs, squeezes his face tighter. “What you going to do about it, So-rah?” he mocks. He yanks him closer until they’re nose to nose, gold eyes burning. “You’re powerless. Have been this entire time. Your keyblade? Because of Ventus. Your powers? Because of your friends. You don’t have a single worthwhile bone in your body.”

“You’re…” His voice wavers and fades. Sora closes his eyes and swallows thickly. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Am I really? Take a good look at yourself, So-rah. Don’t be so deluded.”

A sob catches in his chest. “Don’t call me that.”

Vanitas presses harder under his eyes, to the point of pain. Sora gasps, eyes flying open. “Don’t call you what?” he taunts. “Your name? At this point, are you even sure it’s your name? Maybe Roxas actually came first.”

“Stop.”

“Make me, oh powerful Golden Boy.”

Sora’s fingers twitch, but that’s as far as he gets. “Stop it.”

Cold darkness bleeds from Vanitas’ eyes, dripping like tears down his cheeks, streaking over his smirk. A feeling like ice spreads across Sora’s face, curling over his lips and invading his mouth. He chokes on the darkness, drowns in the overwhelming despair and anger bearing down on him.

Vanitas’ hands slide down to wrap around Sora’s throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, just simply holds Sora as he gasps desperately for untainted air. He watches him like a curious bird, head titled to the side, as Sora’s knees buckle and his back bows.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

Preview! From the same fic! Will I ever finish? I hope so! 10 years in the making and KH3 kicking me into gear. Hope people like it

[minijenn]

Look, I know I roast this poor boy a whole lot, but I gotta admit, I hella appreciate just how fucking honest he is when compared to all the other useless Organization fuckheads 

[mandos-things]

Cold - Geralt of Rivia

Relationship: Geralt x gn!reader

Warnings: mild swearing, nothing but fluff

Gif by @kh-ael

~~~~~

"You're chattering."

"Am not."

Jaskiers snores ripped through the silence of the forest.

You, Geralt and Jaskier made camp not far from the main road. The night air was light, relentless. Despite the crackling of the fire, the air tore right through your covers and into your very bones.

"Mm. Suppose its a squirrel then. Must be dearly regretting not buying the extra skins their wise friend had suggested they buy only two towns over."

"F-fuck off," you shivered. You would've laughed at his Geralt-like attempt at a joke if you weren't so fucking freezing...

"Come here," the gruffness of his voice slices through your regret-riddled thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

He deeply sighs, and moves to hold open his thick fur coat. An invitation. One that any other day you would've had the sense to question.

But you would sacrifice your dignity for warmth tonight.

So you shuffled, albeit clumsily to where he sat, just next to a fallen log. You pretend you don't see the little smirk he makes as you trip and shake your way over to him.

"A-Asshat," you huff as you move to lay down, his arm moving to rest over your waist once you've settled.

You breathe a relieved sigh at the heat. His warmth hugged you tightly, shivers dying down with every stroke of his hand along your spine.

"Mmmthankyou," you sleepily murmur. He kisses the top of your head in response.

"We'll stock up again tomorrow."

His other hand rests lovingly along the side of your face.

"Rest now, little one. I've got you."

~~~~~

[teddieh]

It’s 3 in the Mornin’ and I’m Tryn’a Change ya Mind

Summary: Yeah so I listened to the full version of “why’d you only call me when you’re high” by Artic Monkeys. The slowed and reverb version? Couldn’t get this idea out of my head so... I’m not sorry. Pure Smut, no real plot. 

Rating: E - NSFW - Dom!Fem! AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 5,530

I couldn’t quite pick a character when writing so, its your fave! But the people I had in mind are listed below. As always, all characters are 18+: 

IC: Eren (Aot), Itadori, Megumi, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Natsuo (BNHA), Kuroo, Daichi, Ukai, Tanaka, Suga, Atsumu, Oikawa, Tengen (KNY), Mista (Jojo), Nero (DMC), Noctis (FFXV), Axel (KH), Trevor Belmont (Castlevania), Alucard (Castlevania), Trunks, Anakin Skywalker (Clone Wars show), Dean (Supernatural), Eddie Brock, Jason Todd,

Honorable Mentions (Almost but not quite IC): Rengoku, Tanjiro, Gojo, Inumaki, Iwaizumi Hajime, Tendou Satoru, Hinata Shoyo

The lights of the room flicker a hazy golden, his skin glowing under the light, shadows dipping over the muscles of his chest and abdomen as he breathes, chest rising like quiet mountains, falling in shuddered breaths as his eyes map along the curves of your body. 

The shadows dance across the silken red stockings covering your thighs, leading up to the rose lace trip hugging the curves of your hips. Connected to the hem are straps attached to the bottom of your panty garters, the bottom half hiding the warmth of your sex. 

The softness of your laugh graces his ears as you watch him stare. “See somethin’ you like, hm?” You coo, carmine colored lips curving into a smile as he licks his own. The heat his body radiates only intensifies as he shifts beneath you. You’re almost straddling his chest, just barely allowing your thighs to graze his sides, knees digging into the plush of the mattress beneath the two of you. 

You drag your hands up from the straps to the high waist of the panties, the daisy designed lace hugging your curves. Fitting, you think, for daisies to be part of this piece. His hooded eyes flicker back down to follow your hands as you slide them over your covered stomach to the bottom of your push-up bra’s cups. You trace the lace of them, and he watches, his chest caving slightly as he holds his breath. 

One of your hands rests flat on the bed as you lean closer to his face, the other continuing upward. You tilt your head at him, allowing your fingers to grace the lace on the outside of the cup, traveling up the v-neck, trailing over the curve of your breasts, then over the elastic bands curving over the plumpness of them that leads up and over your shoulders. His eyes follow every movement of your white, almond french tip nails as they trace up the curve of your neck. A long finger parts the softness of your lips. You speak again, eyes lowering as you trace the angles of his face. You move your hand from your own face and curl your hand under his jaw, tilting his head to look straight in your eyes, caressing his bottom lip with your thumb, gently pressing on it with your nail. “I asked you a question, lover boy.”  

The breath he’d been holding releases, his chest shaking slightly as his glossy, dark blown eyes finally focus on your face again. “...You’re ethereal.” he huffs, cheeks warming beneath your touch. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, a soft intake of breath as your eyes roll. He watches the soft flare of your nose, the dip of your neck, down into your cleavage where the cups cover you from his view. His eyebrows furrow just slightly before you give a gentle tut and his eyes immediately flick back to your face, wider and at attention. 

“You’re cute, especially like this, you know?” You lean closer, so close he can smell the orange, jasmine, and the rose of your Chanel Coco Mademoiselle. His tongue flicks over his lip, brushing against your thumb as you lean down to gently nudge your nose against his own. You slide your hand down from his lips, tracing down his jaw to wrap around the expanse of his neck. You don’t squeeze, simply hold with a light pressure and you feel him swallow beneath you, his adam’s apple bobbing as his breath fans over your lips. 

You eye him for a moment, leaning so close your lips almost brush and his eyes flutter close in anticipation of your plush lips against his. You don’t give him the satisfaction as you lean up and back, sitting on your knees above him instead of hovering and pulling away all the warmth you’d given him. 

He whines immediately, eyes fluttering open as he chases the warmth of your body. His shoulders and biceps flex as he leans up to chase you, but the hemp rope, tied in a double column tie, holds both his wrists back and is pulled up to the headboard. It only lets him bend slightly up at the waist, chest rising off the mattress before he huffs in frustration and flops back down, his body rustling the plum and magenta sheets. He’s careful not to tug too hard, knowing if he truly tried he’d be able to break the restraints, or slip free from them. He breathes hesitantly, a shuddering breath that skips a few beats before he gazes at you again, eyes hooded once more and thighs flexing beneath you.

“You’re so good to me, sweetheart.” You purr, sitting back on your knees and resting on his thighs, avoiding the warmth straining his boxer-briefs taut against his hips, and the obvious girth of him within. You reach up, gently dragging your nails down his chest, not enough to scratch but applying enough pressure that he feels the tips against his skin. He groans, head tilting back into the pillows beneath his head as your nails drag over his pecs, down the curves and dips of his abdominal muscles, stomach sucking in as your fingertips graze past his belly button and inch closer, closer to his pelvis, his dick jumps, pulsing as a wet spot stains the tip. His breathing hitches, “God--”

You giggle and reward him with the flat, warm press of your palms against his sides, dragging them up the length of his body, up his muscles, over his pecks, over his shoulders, applying pressure as you go. “It’s just me here, baby. But I’m flattered.” You suck your bottom lip in behind your teeth to hold in the excitement cursing through you. He looks so good like this, underneath you, at your will and whim. It’s one of the few times when you’re completely in control, and you get to coax the reactions out of him instead of the other way around. You figure you’ve teased him quite a bit, and you could reward him just a bit more.

He tilts his head to look down at you again as you lean forward and crawl closer, pressing your body down against his. He shudders, pressing back up into you and relishing in the bit of skin to skin contact that he can get around your lingerie. You reach your right hand up, stroking your fingers through his hair and giving it a gentle tug. The groan he releases vibrates so deep within his chest that you feel it. “I think you deserve a kiss, hm?” 

“God yes--” 

You brush your lips against his, and briefly note the flex in his bicep beneath your arm as your left hand traces down his chest and over his left nipple. His breath hitches only for a moment before you tilt your head and slot your lips against his. The moan he lets out is swallowed up in the glide of your lips, the warmth of the room, your breaths, the drumming of your hearts. 

The kiss starts slow, sensual, lips locking, softly releasing with gentle pecks before his hips shift, pressing closer to you then spreading outwards so you can slot your leg between his own. You do, pressing the softness of your thigh against the bulge running up and along his waist. You gently grind your thigh against him and he breaks the kiss only for a moment for his breath to hitch. His fingers flex, wrists turning slightly within the rope before he leans forward and captures your lips in a kiss again, more urgent, more passionate. His lips dominate yours as he presses his own thigh up between your legs and you moan into the kiss as he flexes it, your clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat, walls clenching around nothing as the cotton inside presses up against your lips. You press yourself further into his thigh and roll your hips forward, and he takes the moment to swipe his tongue along your bottom lip.

It’s easy to see his control gaining and yours waning, and in response you gently tug his nipple between your thumb and forefinger and when he gasps, you slip your own tongue out to grind against his own. He huffs through his nose, the air fluttering your lashes as you smirk against his lips and take the time to taste him and dominate the kiss yourself. The Coffee-tea you’d brought him earlier is still strong enough to leave a light buzz on your tongue. 

When you break away, both your lips swollen from the kiss, you trail your lips down the curve of his jaw, feel the shiver that wracks through his body as your lips trail further downward. “W-why do I feel like this is payback from the hickey last week?” he chuckles breathlessly, cut off into a sharp inhale as you nip his jugular gently, then soothe it with the soft pass of your tongue. “You know..I forgot about that until you mentioned it. Maybe you do deserve punishment.” 

He snorts at that but lets out a grunt as your lips attach to his neck, right below his ear, and you attach your lips to the spot, sucking softly first, then harder, gliding your tongue around it as he groans, hips twitching upward and thighs shifting further. You press your hips into his to pin him to the bed, using your hands to pin him as well, and then ghost your lips down his neck, stopping at the junction of his shoulder to suck a dark colored mark into the skin. You switch your attention to the same spot on the other side of his neck, and he turns his head away from you to give you more access.

Once you’re satisfied, you press kisses down the center of his chest and then grin up at him cheekily, shifting your own body down to lay half on him and half on the bed. He raises an eyebrow at your antics as you smile at him, right hand coming up to trace circles on his chest. “..What’s that look for?” 

“I’ve just wondered if you’re sensitive here.” 

“Where?”

Instead of replying you swipe your tongue over the soft perk of his nipple and his entire body shivers once, thighs tensing inward. “Here.”

“H-hey-!” 

“Hey.” You smirk, finger tips gliding down his body to tease at the happy tail leading into his dark underwear. His stomach sucks in, dick twitching as your nails dip beneath the fabric and trace circles on his pelvis, against the neatly trimmed curls above his dick. Your lips blow gently on his nipple, the cool air after the wetness perking it up as you latch your lips and give a gentle suck, tongue swirling around the tip and his areola before you switch and give the same attention to his other nipple. He doesn’t moan, but his heavy breathing and the soft jerks upward of his hips, rolling beneath your touch as you press your palm near the base of him is enough to tell you he’s enjoying it. 

“S-shit” His breath hitches when you gently press your teeth around the perk of his nipple, you soothe it with a gentle swirl of your tongue, a kiss, and then begin trailing your lips down his abdomen, tongue dipping into the curves as you crawl down the length of his body. You shift again, sliding his legs further apart as you settle between his legs and tap his hips to get him to raise his knees. “Let's get on to the main show, hm?” 

He bites his lip instead of replying, eyes watching you carefully. He’s sure if he says what he’s thinking (You’re just going to tease me more when they come off..) that it would not give him the results that he so hopes for. In fact, he’s almost sure you’ll only tease him worse after, so instead he resigns himself to lifting his hips when you grip his waistband and begin to tug down, shivering at the scratch of your nails down his hips and thighs as you slide them down. His dick  jumps straight up, girthy, giving a slight twitch, with precum beading at the tip. You smile at him, sitting up and swirling his underwear through the leg-hole and waistband on your index finger. “You know, with as many times as you’ve kept mine,” you coo, leaning forward and lowering your voice just a bit, “maybe I should keep a pair of yours too?” The teasing lit to your tone isn’t lost on him as he rolls his eyes and shifts his hips. When he turns to you again, he’s almost pouting with the flush to his face. You laugh and toss the underwear, raking your nails up and down his left thigh to feel the muscles tense and jump.

“Okay okay, maybe next time.” 

“It’s not like you don’t already take most of my clothes, a pair of your panties doesn’t hurt, does it?” He’s breathing heavier, and his face falls slightly as he sees the grin spreading across your face. He realizes he’s said that out loud. You tutt at him, shaking your head. “And here I thought you were doing so good…” Your fingernails dig into his thighs hard enough to leave indents, but not break skin. His hisses softly and bucks his hips up, 

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. Just-- touch me?” He asks, though from the soft shake of your head as you lower yourself back down onto your stomach, (his eyes following the curve and arch of your back, the jutt of your butt waving in the air), he knows you won’t do it without him begging. 

Your lips hover over the tip of his shaft, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him like a furnace. He’s so hard, and seeing you in front of him like this causes his dick to twitch. You blow on it gently and his knees twitch in. “Good boys beg.” You say, eyes flicking up to him as you lay your arm over his left thigh, leaning on it and letting your fingernails trail the length of his shaft. His whine goes straight to your pussy, and the heat and wetness of it, the way the crotch sticks to you with your arousal is becoming much too warm. But you have to bear it, just to hear him beg, to see the way he shakes and trembles when he’s close. 

You wrap the warmth of your hand around the girth of him and he lets out a sigh, hips trying to buck into your hand and you push him down with the arm you’re leaning on. “Ah ah…Be good now.” 

He huffs, flexing his muscles as he tries to relax himself. 

The warmth of him pulses in your palm, your thumb tracing up the vein and curve of him, watching the way his eyebrows furrow in and he bites his lip. You twist your wrist gently as you give him another stroke, tightening your grip just a bit to watch his hips pull in. You giggle, pressing a wet kiss to his inner thigh, so close to his balls that they jump. You move closer, tapping your thumb pad over his wet tip and watching his hips buck as the precum sticks to you. "Feel good?"

He hums, nodding and flexing his hips as your lips trail over his balls, a gentle kiss, and then a soft suckle on the taut skin there, a bead of precum leaks down his shaft at that, and when he looks down at you to see your soft eyelashes fluttering, the pupil blown, soft eyed look on your face and it has him clenching his fists in his restraints. "S-shit.."

Your tongue grinds firmly against his sack, hand continuing its stroke, using his precum as lubrication. You huff through your nose, sliding your palm up to the head of his dick and pressing kisses up the length of him. You slide your tongue out, gliding it along his length and press a kiss to the tip, licking your lips of the slightly salty substance. “Words, baby. Feel good?” You ask, blowing gently over the tip as you shift, free hand coming up to cup his sack and gently massage his balls. 

He tilts his head back into the pillows again, and you watch his tongue lather over his lips, the redness of his bottom one from worrying iit between his teeth. “Y-yeah..s’good.” You’re smiling at how easy it’s been to work him up. You glide your right hand back down to his base and glide your tongue over his slit and he hisses and bucks his hips again, the tip kissing your lips. You coo, mouthing gently against him, “If you want me to suck, you beg.” 

You give him a steely gaze, despite the blow of your pupils, the plumpness of your lips, the flush and heat of your own face, the dampness of your panties, the perk of your nipples grazing your bra. You need him to know who’s in control, and as he looks down into your eyes, his own face flushed, panting slightly with the soft part of his lips. He swallows, and your eyes follow the movement of his Adam's apple before your gaze flicks back to his face. You smile against him, low and curled. He shakes his head, knowing it’s easier to give in now than to have you keep teasing.

You’ve been doing it all day, trying to convince him that he should let you take the reins this time, even after teasing him throughout the day. Your fresh set of nails stroking and gently grazing against the hair on the nape of his neck. Your lingering curved touches, the embraces from behind, the trailing of your palms over his chest, using him to put your heels on with your cleavage exposing the top of the lacy bra you’d worn earlier beneath your dress shirt before your night out. The delicate hand rested on his upper thigh as you’d laughed with your mutual friends at the bar earlier that night. The soft pecks, hushed promises for more and yet tugging away. Then the way you’d completely ignored his own advancement of your teasing when you’d gotten home, stating you’d only participate if you were in control, and only at the deepest hour of the night, bordering close to morning.

He knows he can’t keep this teasing much longer, and he knows that once your little game is done, he can repay the favor tenfold. The thought creates a heated tightness in his chest. He knows he can make you beg and shake and squirt after. A promise. He nods his head. “Please..” He says, voice cracking at the beginning with the lack of use. You can’t help the brighter smile pushing into your cheeks and the way he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then tries it again, firmer this time. “Please? There’s nothing like your pretty lips around me.”

The confidence, the promise in his words makes your walls clench, desperate for release and you know you can’t deny him when he speaks like this so you give in, opening your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and sliding your mouth down the length of him. The long drawn out groan, the way his toes curl just a little, the sound of the ropes shifting, the way his balls draw up for a moment in your other palm all only encourages the throbbing of your clit. You decide it’s not worth playing with him too long, you’re starting to get desperate to feel him too. 

You sink your mouth down around him, hot, wet, warm. Your tongue glides down the length, and you relax your throat to take him further in. He’s hot and heavy on your tongue, dick twitching once as more pre pushes its way out of his tip. He’s been good enough so you move your hand away from his shaft and press it flat on his stomach and give a very gentle squeeze to his balls, moving your head further down his shaft until his head touches the back of your throat. You breathe through your nose, eyes watering at the thickness and length of him, keeping yourself still to keep calm, and press down until your lips are wrapped around the base of his shaft. He twitches down your throat and as you blink up at him, eyes bleary, you can see the way his muscles strain with the rope as he hisses through his teeth. His eyebrows pinch in, eyes closed tight. “Fuuck…’S’so good to me..shit..” 

The praise lights in your belly, and you drag yourself back up the length of him, coating him in your saliva and swirling your tongue around the tip as you suck. His hips buck and you press down on his pelvis to keep him still. You glide your tongue along his frenulum and his thighs shift up once and he grunts. “Shit!” and you’re pleased. He can feel the curl of a smile on your lips as you sink your head back down his length, thumb gently grinding over his sack.

He’s shaking slightly, thighs becoming tense beneath you. “I-if you keep that up I’ll cum..” he grunts, especially as your tongue grinds circles on the head of his shaft on each upward stroke. When you take him in the last time to the hilt, lips around his base, you huff once, twice, through your nose and then you hum. The vibration comes from deep within your throat and he throws his head back, and for a moment, his strength kicks in as he groans and his hips press upward into your mouth. You hold him there, feeling the way he pulses and his legs start to shiver and then you pull up and off of him with a wet pop. His dick twitches twice in the cooler air.

His eyes slide open, glossy with pleasure as he watches you wipe the tears from your eyes and crawl as you sit back on your ass, fingers popping the straps from your panties and your thigh highs. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and he watches the jiggle of your ass and thighs burningly as you tug it down and lift your hips. He gets the perfect view of your wet labia, slick sliding down from your hole, the way your body shakes as you tug the panties off and fling them in the same direction as his boxers. He smiles, licks his lips, and even struggling can’t stop himself from asking “You’re so eager for me?” but it comes out so breathless that it doesn’t even sound like much of a threat.

“If I’d have continued you’d have cum, and I’m sure you want to feel me just as much as I want you in me.” Your words are less silk, more satin and full as you straddle his hips, reaching between your legs and grasping his length. He jerks in your grip and he groans. “Y-yeah..Can’t wait to feel you..” 

His submission falls forth so easily that it makes you give a huff of a giggle before you drag the head of him between your lower lips, collecting your own arousal on him, knowing it’s always a bit of a stretch without his fingers or tongue on you first. You shift downward to grind yourself along the length of him, and the both of you moan as his head bumps and nudges against your clit. You roll your hips, the friction sparking up your body as your thighs twitch inward each time. “Fuck princess, don’t tease us both..” he groans, eyes glued to where you’re lining the two of you up. 

You shift slightly so the head of him catches on your entrance, and you shudder, palms coming up to rest on his chest as you push yourself down. The stretch is there, but so is the pleasure and the pressure of his hot length finally stroking the fire you’ve burned within. You’re moaning, walls squeezing tight around his shaft and he’s biting his lip hard to keep his hips from thrusting all the way in. “S’so tight..shit…” 

You shift your hips once and then take a breath before sinking yourself the rest of the way down onto him, your hips flush with his and you’re moaning at the fullness, the sound caught up in your throat and your walls flutter around him, tightening and squeezing and refusing to let him go. One of his eyes is screwed shut and the other is hazily staring at where the two of you are connected. “F-Feels like home every time..” 

You’d laugh at his cheesiness if it didn’t feel just as good for you, the thickness of him filling you so good, the heat and weight of him, how deep he felt in this position. You roll your hips gently, shuddering at the way his tip grinds against your walls and they clench him in response. He hisses softly, biting his lip. “R-relax sweetheart..I’ll cum just from that at this rate..” 

The whine that flows from you makes his eyes snap up at you, the way your eyes are hazy as you grind against him, and for a moment he really thinks you might lose control and he’ll get to take over. But you tilt your head down towards your chest, take a shuddering breath, and relax yourself enough that you can move again and then raise your hips an inch. When they fall back down onto his, both from your own movement and gravity, the both of you moan, heads tossed back in pleasure. “Fillin’ me s’so good…” Your voice is heavier, breathier, and his eyes flutter open to watch your expressions. “Y-yeah..? Good for you, right?” He huffs, licking his lip and poking both for the praise and for more.

“Mhmm..so good f-fah!” Your sentence is interrupted by the buck of his hips, the length of him grinding up into you and your head falls back on your shoulders. You huff, he’s playing dirty so you rake your nails down his chest. He groans, hips retracting slightly as his dick twitches and you lift yourself up to drop back down on him, then grind your hips forward once, twice, and then lift again. 

A slow but deep rhythm begins as his hips pull back into the sheets and the both of you meet in the middle, the bed frame creaking slightly with the movement. The heat of his eyes trailing flames up the length of your stocking clad thighs, where he stuffs you, and up the smooth softness of your belly and hips, up your waist, your covered breasts, the old bruises of the hickies he’d left on your neck, and then the way your lips part in a whine as you angle yourself to make him brush your g-spot. Your pussy flutters around him at his gaze, at him filling you, at the steady increase of your hips. 

You plant your palms against his chest, rising up more than just a few inches, until only a third of him is left and then drop your hips back down and a choked moan forces its way through your lips. Your palms slip to rest instead in the sheets beneath his armpits, palms curling into fists as your pace increases, and the wet smack of your coupling, along with the heavy smacks of your skin meeting grow louder, mingling with the sound of your shared moans.

 The heat between the both of you, the warmth of the room, the candle lights flicker, cause perspiration along your bodies as your hips meet. The heat makes the straps of your bra dig uncomfortably,and as you grind your hips in circles on your next downward stroke, you unclasp your bra and fling it off. The sight of your breasts bouncing free, then the jiggle with the thrusts of both of your hips has him groaning and flexing his muscles against the rope again, pulling the rope tighter before flexing his fingers. “Lean down, wanna feel you against me.” He huffs through his nose, flexing his hips up into yours again and you comply, laying your body down on his, breasts flattening against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the stutter of his heartbeat as your lips connect to his.

He shifts, sliding his thighs up to hook beneath your own, and planting his heels into the mattress to get more stability so he can he ruts his hips up into yours, the smacks of your thighs louder and your body bounces against his, your lips parting to whine into his mouth. He shoves his tongue in, grinding it against your own as he deepens the kiss, the smacks of his hips increase as his balls smack against the underside of your ass. Your shared moans grow louder, the coil in your belly tightens and you reach a hand up to bury it into his hair from the base of his neck, gently tugging it back to hear and feel his groan into your mouth.

“Fuck, gonna cum--” He grunts, his dick twitching within you, and the constant rutting and grinding of his shaft along your walls, the friction of your clit grinding into his pelvis, and the stimulation from the skin-to skin contact drove your own orgasm closer and closer to his own. 

“F’fill me--inside! Make me cum--!” You whine, babbling against his lips as you grind your hips back down into his with each thrust, free hand sliding up the length of his bicep and arm, over the tie, to lace your fingers with one of his hands. He squeezes back as he breaks the kiss to grunt into your ear with every thrust, his eyes squeezing shut, hips driving into your own with a hard plap!plap!plap! as your lips trail down the length of his neck, moaning into it as the hand holding his shoots down in favor of rubbing the hood of your clit in quick circles, your legs beginning to shake, thighs quaking as your whines heighten in pitch--

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” He huffs, your pussy tightening and fluttering around him as you cry into his neck, the dam in you breaking as your teeth bite into his neck and he lets out a strained groan, his head tilting back, neck straining as he fucks you through your orgasm, your walls squeezing and milking him into his own as he lets out a ragged gasp and his own orgasm breaks. Thick ropes of his cum fill you, your hips continue to move to ride your orgasms, the creamy ring of your cum, along with his own, coats his shaft, your wetness dripping down his balls. 

His thrusts slow to a stop, your heart ringing in your ears as the two of you settle down. You’re breathing heavily, and his chest is heaving before he swallows his spit and rests his temple against your head. Your thighs tremble a little still from your orgasm and his thrusts, and the fuzzy feeling of the high of your orgasm is still buzzing your brain as you nestle your face into his neck. “Mmn..” you grumble, and he brushes his lips over the top of your head as you rest against him. The two of you allow your breaths to calm, bathing in the afterglow. 

When he goes to wrap an arm around you, he’s stopped by the hemp rope and he nuzzles your head. “Babe..the rope..” With heavy arms you reach above you and untie him from it. He rubs his wrists gently, luckily they weren’t chaffed or rubbed too hard, just sore, and then winds them around your body. 

“Thank you..You were so good...” You mutter, pressing your lips to the hickey you’d left earlier. He shudders, fingertips gently gliding over the length of your back. 

He lets out a huff of a laugh, “You were good, princess..” his voice a little hoarse, just as yours is as he tilts your head up with one hand to press a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle your nose to his cheek. “Can’t believe you kept it up..” He laughs and you hum. “I told you I was gonna change your mind..I can dom..” He smirks, and you can hear the smugness in his voice as he cups the back of your neck and angles you in for a gentle peck of the lips. “I didn’t say you couldn’t..Just said I’d get payback when you were done,”

He cooes, half-hard length pulsing gently in you before he rolls the two of you over and his calloused palms slide up the length of your arms to lace fingers with yours and pin them above your head. “and I hope that you’re ready for your turn.” 

[adheidth]

Dainty hands clutch at the bow around her neck, evoking an image of a lady clutching at her pearls. Alice's brow furrows.

"Kh-! Those devils! They should be ashamed of themselves."

In turn, she scoops a handful from her pocket, showing Matthias her own paltry collection.

"As a lady, it would be unbefitting of me to not share when I have more than you. 'tis the duty of the wealthy to share with the poor, after all! Make your pick, and then share with me who you suspect."

A pause, a little huff.

"I think Randal has been lying to me."

more tricks than treats

toajuicy round 3 || cont.

[izaswritings]

kh fic - the sum total | chapter two

Title: the sum total

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Synopsis: In another world, Lea and Isa succeed in breaking Subject X out of the castle. Some things change. Others stay the same.

Chapter Warnings: cursing/strong language, mentioned past imprisonment, child abuse, dehumanization, human experimentation… the usual KH things. If there’s anything I missed, please let me know!

AO3 link is here. 

First Chapter | Next Chapter

.

chapter two: the second day

.

It takes a while for them all to calm down. Their friend keeps on crying, even when she tries to stop; Lea, now that they have had a moment to truly breathe, looks like he might pass out right here in the alleyway. Isa keeps his hands on both of their shoulders, holding tight. He isn’t sure what else to do. 

He can hardly believe they’re here at all.

They can’t stay here, but Isa isn’t sure where to go. He’s not sure where they are, except somewhere vaguely southwest from the castle, far from the section of the city where Isa and Lea live— and they probably shouldn’t go that way, either, especially after the scientist and guard both caught them fleeing. So home is out. 

We were supposed to have a plan. The thought rises, sudden and sharp; he grips their shoulders a little tighter. Isa was supposed to be ready for this, for breaking her out—instead he feels more unprepared than ever before. He keeps trying to plan where to go next, and instead he just keeps thinking stupid things, like, I have school in the morning. How long until my parents notice I’m gone? Wasn’t there a group project due soon? 

Useless. School and his parents and annoying his classmates are the literal least of his worries now. But somehow, it’s all he can think.

He doesn’t know what to do. The frustration burns.

“We have to keep moving,” he says, at last. Lea exhales a heavy breath; their friend sniffles and tries unsuccessfully to stop crying again. At least she isn’t hyperventilating anymore. That had been awful, and the whole thing had nearly made Isa start crying too. “We can’t let them catch up.”

“We should hide,” their friend says, voice rough. She wipes at her eyes again, breathing ragged. “I… I don’t know if I can keep running like that for much longer.”

Anxiety twists in his chest—but she is shaking, and her face is bloodless, and on second thought, she looks a little like she might pass out too. His own feet are stabbing with an aching pain. Isa swallows his objection back down. “Okay,” he says.

“What about the warehouse district?” Lea wonders, and shrugs when they look at him. “We’re close by, I think. We could hide out there.”

Isa presses his lips, but… he can’t think of anything better. The warehouse district is closer to the edges of the city, by the empty fields used for flight testing and such. Big, empty… and it’s mostly for storage, right? If they find one run down enough, it might not even have an alarm.

It’s their best bet. Isa pushes to his feet and holds a hand out to their friend. She takes it gratefully. 

On the ground, Lea groans. “Come on, man. No hand for me? Did I make you mad or something?”

Isa kicks at his boot, scowling. “I’m not mad.”

“You look kind of mad.”

They don’t have time for this. Isa turns away. “Let’s go.”

“Isa—”

Their friend holds out a hand for him. Lea huffs and takes it, and then gives Isa a look, like, see? 

Isa resists the urge to kick a rock—he is not going to be the one that gives away their position—and starts making his way to the warehouse district.

Behind him, Lea lingers back. “Need some help?”

“Yes, sorry… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Locked up for a year is what’s wrong with you. Here, give me your arm. We can shuffle-walk.”

She laughs, surprised into it. Lea grins, and slings her arm over his shoulders.

Isa winces, and slows down. Their friend is walking stiffly, pain tight in the corners of her eyes; she steps lightly, like her feet are on fire. She doesn’t have any shoes, Isa realizes belatedly. She has been running barefoot all this way. It’s a wonder her feet haven’t started bleeding.

The guilt sinks deep in his chest, sharp as a blade. He looks away, and keeps going—but this time, he keeps Lea and their friend in the corner of his eye, and lets them set the pace. 

(He was supposed to be ready.)

They creep their way through the shadows and the back-alleys, inching their way to the edges of the city. The burning adrenaline from escaping the castle has left him, but the fear stays, knotted tight in his chest. The air burns cold, and the darkness settles; every odd noise makes him flinch. It’s as if the world had been whited out and faded as they fled—and now that they’ve slowed down, it has returned with a vengeance. Every flicker of a light makes his breath catch.

But somehow, by some miracle: no scientists round the bend. No guards follow in their footsteps. They make it to the warehouses unseen, hidden by the unyielding dark. 

When they pass from the well-lit streets into the inky dark of the warehouse district, their friend shivers. But she doesn’t tell them to stop.

The warehouse district is almost pitch-black—the lamps are set sparse and far-apart, and the shadows are dark and deep. There are almost no lights here at all, and the clouds still hide the stars; he can hardly see at all. They don’t have light or time enough to be choosy. Isa takes a breath and  squints through the gloom. Not the first few warehouses, that seems too obvious… someplace they can run from, if they get cornered…

There’s an open flight field fenced off, and a row of big, hollow structures settled about half-way down the row. The flight field is old and getting overgrown—the warehouse, near decaying, well-worn. The lock is rusted and old. Isa scans the building best he can. No way to tell if its alarmed.

No other options, either. Isa takes a deep breath, and starts looking for something to break the lock.

One broken pipe and a lot of effort later, the lock is broken and the door is open. Isa pushes Lea and their friend through, and then drags the warehouse door closed behind them. It’s dark. It’s so dark he can’t even see his hand in front of his face, and when something grabs at his shoulder he jumps.

“Just me,” Lea whispers. His voice sounds thin. “Come on. Lets find a corner.”

Isa reaches out. Lea takes his hand, and then someone else takes his other hand—their friend. Her hand is as cold as ever. He can feel her shaking.

“I think I’m by the wall,” she whispers. “I’ll lead.”

He can feel her limp with every step.

They reach the corner after what feels like ages—boxes just barely avoided, pipes on the floor and the smell of oil thick in the air. Lea almost trips more than once; every noise feels amplified, made echoed and damning by the space and the silence. Their friend hits the far wall and then slides down to sit, dragging Lea and Isa down with her. They kneel there in the dark, all three of them—just sitting. Just breathing.

He can’t see a thing, but he knows they’re there. His hand is starting to sweat; Isa holds on tight anyway. It is all beginning to catch up with him. Everything they’ve done— everything they’ve left behind.

He falls asleep right there, in that endless darkness, holding tight.

.

He’s not sure how long he sleeps; when the door of the warehouse slides open with a bang, daylight streams through bright as a beacon. Isa jolts awake with a snarl already on his face. Lea mumbles, and rolls over. 

Their friend slams herself back against the corner of the warehouse so hard, even Isa can feel the impact. Her face has gone white. 

Realization dawns a second too late. Isa scrambles to his feet, no longer breathing. Lea grumbles again, turning over as if to snuggle into blankets, and then blearily pauses when he smushes his face into concrete instead.

“Damn shit lock!” says a voice at the warehouse door, rough and heavy and thick with an accent. Their friend isn’t breathing anymore; she’s tucked herself so far into the corner she seems entirely taken by the shadows, and her face is tight with pain. She is blinking too fast at the daylight. Isa stands, trying to hide her as best he can. His mouth has gone dry.

There is a man in the warehouse entrance— stooped back and oil-stained clothes, with pale yellow hair cut close to his scalp and a pinkish, squinting face. He shoves the door open further, grumbling. Then he turns and sees them. 

“The fuck?”

Isa scoots back. The heel of his foot smacks into Lea’s side on accident; Lea yelps, lurching upright, and says, so loud it makes Isa flinch, “Geez, I’m up, I’m up! What’s your—“

Lea’s voice abruptly dies in his throat. Color and irritation both drain from his face. He scrambles to his feet, stiff and wired, eyes a little too wide. He looks to Isa and then snaps his head back to their friend, and then whirls on the man in the doorway, fists clenched, hands shaking.

The man pauses. His scowl darkens to a frown, and he looks at them for a long moment. He shifts. Daylight glances through the door; their friends makes an involuntary noise of pain, and then smacks a hand over her mouth, looking horrified. 

Lea glances back; Isa’s fingers dig into his palm. He keeps his eyes on the man in the doorway. His mouth tastes like ash.

The man has heard the noise too. He goes very still. A strange range of emotion crosses his face, and then he lifts a hand and drags it over his eyes. “Shit,” he says, lowly. “Damn fucking fool, not replacing the lock, checking out the damn alarm… should have just stayed in bed. Bah.”

He turns and exits back outside, still muttering. Isa blanks. What?

He looks at Lea. Lea looks helplessly back. Their friend is similarly frozen. How nice that they are all on the same page. 

Reason reasserts itself. Isa bolts for the door. “Wait—”

The man is already heading back inside the warehouse. Isa just barely keeps from slamming into him. “Don’t tell the guards,” Isa says, fast, trying to sound sharp and mostly just sounding desperate even to his own ears. “We’re leaving now, so don’t—”

“Calm the fuck down, kid,” says the man, and then, “Shit. Crap. Da—Dang it all. Calm down. I ain’t calling any dam—dang guards.”

“Yeah right,” says Lea, incredulously, from the back.

The man already looks irritated; somehow, the irritation deepens. “You know my mind better than me now, kid? I said I ain’t calling the guards, so I ain’t calling any guards!” 

Isa takes a moment to consider that. “I… I don’t understand.”

The man mutters something under his breath and shoves past him. There’s a box in his hands, dented and rusted—dull red paint and a peeling logo of a staff with two snakes. A first aid kit, Isa realizes, belatedly. Beyond the door he can see a beat-up truck; had the man left to grab it?

Lea has thrown himself in front of their friend, arms outstretched. “Don’t—”

The man huffs and puts down the kit on the ground. Lea stops mid-sentence, faltering. There is a long moment of silence. 

“Hm,” says the man, looking sour, and then he turns away from Lea and their friend and heads back for the door. Dust drifts through the air, glowing in the sunlight; in the shadows of the warehouse, crates pile high, surrounding an open space in the center of the room where a strange aircraft rests, half-covered by a molding tarp. Beyond the door, there is a rusted truck and painfully blue sky, too bright to bear.

The man pauses in the doorway and then glances back to survey the warehouse. Isa stares at him. The man catches his gaze and crosses his arms. “What?” he snaps.

Isa doesn’t say anything. The man’s mouth twists, and then he shoves past Isa for the door again. “Don’t touch anything, you hear?” he calls back. “If the Shera has so much as a scratch I’m taking it out of your hides. And I will know.” 

The man looks at Isa as he says this. Isa stares back. The silence stretches. Outside, somewhere far away, a bird titters.

“…Got it,” Isa says, at last, weakly.

The man grunts. “Any allergies?”

“I— what?”

“I said—”

“No allergies,” Lea says, cutting him off. His hands have lowered back to his his sides. He gives the man a very strange look, and must find something—because then he grins, crooked and sideways. “Not very fond of spicy things, though. And—” He glances back behind him, their friend hidden in the shadows. Isa can’t see her. Lea turns back. “Um.” He clears his throat. “Can we get… something warm? Like, fresh bread, or something.”

“Do I look like a damn restaurant?” the man snaps, but his eyes trail behind Lea and his frown twists. “Whatever.” 

An awkward pause. The man directs his frown back at Isa again, says, “And not a single dang thing out of place, you hear me?” and then, before Isa can even think to respond to that, the man turns away and drags the warehouse door closed behind him. 

Silence. Isa can hear the man muttering as he walks away. Isa… doesn’t move. He feels a little bit like he’s been slapped.

Just. Just— what?

Behind him, Lea sighs heavily. Then there’s a muffled thud as he apparently falls boneless to the floor. Isa turns to look at them. Lea has fallen to his back, arms out, eagle-spread on the ground. Their friend is still frozen and blank-faced in the corner. 

“That went well,” says Lea, to the ceiling.

“…He’s hiding us?” their friend says, quietly, uncertain. 

“I…” Outside the warehouse, he can hear a car start, and then drive away. Isa clenches and unclenches his hand. “I don’t know.” 

The uncertainty locks in his throat. For a moment he feels— he is not sure what he feels. He is not sure of anything. Their friend is free, but... they were supposed to be ready, Isa thinks, and the thought burns bitter behind his eyes. His hands clench. Instead they’re hiding out in a random warehouse, no plan and no destination, nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. They couldn’t even escape right; that one-eyed guard had seen them, and what proof do they have he’ll stay quiet? He couldn’t even— they couldn’t even hide her for a day. Already, someone has found them.

What if it hadn’t been that man? What if it had been someone else?

Lea sits up, looking at him now. “Isa?”

Something flares white-hot in his chest. Isa presses his lips against a snarl and marches past, not looking at him. “I’m fine,” he says, clipped, and heads for the corner. Their friend is still staring at the warehouse door. “Are you okay?”

She blinks, then looks up at him. She seems almost dazed. Cold, too—she is shivering—but of course she is, Isa thinks. Barefoot and wearing nothing but the white patient’s clothes the scientists had given her. Of course she’s cold. He should have expected that. He should have been prepared. 

“I—I’m fine,” she says, belatedly. “The light, I… I wasn’t expecting it.” She goes quiet. Something bitter casts across her face, what little of her he can see in the shadows. “It’s so bright.”

“Definitely a different experience to the lab lights, huh?” Lea is on his feet again; his voice is light, but there is something angry about the set of his shoulders. Isa doesn’t look at him. Lea doesn’t look at him either, just approaches their friend and holds out a hand. “…Wanna take another look?”

“Take this seriously,” Isa snaps, unable to stop himself. “That man—”

“Look, man, what do you want from me?” Lea glares at him. Isa looks away. “The guy sells us out or he doesn’t. It’s not like we have anywhere else to go. It’s morning, the streets are crowded, the stupid apprentices are probably looking for us— what else are we supposed to do?”

Isa doesn’t say anything. Lea makes a muffled noise in the back of his throat. “Whatever,” he mutters. He turns back to their friend. “So? Ready to go into the light?”

From the corner of his eye, Lea can see her hesitate. Then she reaches up and takes Lea’s hand. “Is that a reference to something?”

“I mean— it’s a dumb joke, never mind. You okay to walk?”

She stands gingerly, testing her feet. “I can make it.” Lea nods, heads for the warehouse door. She goes to follow—then hesitates. Isa can feel her eyes on him; he stares at the wall and doesn’t acknowledge her. His chest feels wound tight.

“Isa,” she says, softly. “Are you—?”

“Fine,” he snaps. He sounds cold to his own ears. He clenches his fist, frustrated.

She is quiet a beat too long. She looks as frustrated with him as he feels; Isa hunches his shoulders.

She exhales, hard. “Fine,” she echoes. He hears her walk away.

Isa stays where he is. The shadows of the warehouse seem too deep. For a moment, he looks into the darkness and wonders. 

They have been spotted; they have been found. But where, exactly, can they go? Lea is right. The sun is up. The city is awake. If they leave now… they will be seen again.

He doesn’t know what to do. Behind him, he can hear Lea and their friend, speaking quietly— (“Should I like… crack the door open? Would that make it easier?” “Mm… maybe?” “Or we could blindfold you.” “Lea. Wouldn’t that would just make it worse?”)— but the shadows hold no answers, and for once, their voices at his back bring no comfort. They are in danger. They are all in danger.

But no matter how hard Isa tries, he can’t think of anything.

.

Isa isn’t sure how long it takes before the man returns. It feels like an age, but in truth the sun has barely budged in the sky. Lea and their friend experiment with the light until she bows out and backs away, eyes watering. All that time the cell, in the shadows, with only those washed out lab lights… it makes sense. Her eyes are slow to adjust. It does not stop the bitterness in her voice when she admits this, and neither does it help the frustration, rootless and undirected, tangible in the air. 

(They should have gotten her out sooner, they should have waited, they should have… Isa is not sure what they should have done.)

But the man does come back— they hear the rumble of his truck coming, and in any other circumstance it’d probably be funny, watching Lea and their friend literally scramble away from the door. It isn’t funny, though. Their friend has gone still again, barely breathing—and Lea is standing in front of her, like that will do anything at all, if someone really is here to harm them.

Isa positions himself by the door, in the shadows. If he has to, he’ll throw himself against it. Buy them some time, maybe.

But when the man walks back into the warehouse he is alone— and there are bags hanging off his arm, a duffle and a paper shopping bag. He gives Lea and their friend a long hard look, and then tosses them the duffle. Lea yelps, and barely catches it.

“Name’s Cid,” says the man, gruff, and then frowns. “Where’s that third one?”

Isa hesitates—and then steps out. “What’s in the bag?”

“Motherfucking—” The stranger— Cid—nearly jumps out of his skin. “Fuck! Make some goddamn noise, would you?”

“I just did,” Isa says.

“Pah,” replies Cid, and shoves the paper bag at them. Isa looks at it. Cid shakes the bag irritably. “It’s bread. Not a damn— dang guard.”

Isa has no idea why the man keeps trying to censor himself; they’re fifteen, not eight. He still doesn’t take the bag. “Why are you doing this?” he says, unable to help himself. “Why—”

“Why are you still here?” says Cid, cutting him off. Isa snaps his mouth shut. Cid looks at him. Looks back over at Lea and their friend. No one says anything. He mutters, wordless, then clears his throat.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” he says, and when Lea opens his mouth, adds, “And I don’t want to, shit, don’t tell me.” Lea closes his mouth, grinning. Cid scowls. 

“…But you’ll let us stay?” their friend says, stepping out from behind Lea. She is still squinting a little from the light of the door; she is standing taller now, though, and her feet are firm on the ground. 

Cid’s eyes turn to her. For a moment he is very quiet. Isa stays still too, suddenly struck. It is stupid, but— this is the first time, he realizes, that she has ever stepped toward the light. This is the first time Isa has ever seen his friend outside of the shadows. Her eyes are a lighter brown than he realized. 

She is barefoot and dressed in the white clothes of a hospital patient; she is pale in a sickly way, and in the daylight the shadows under her eyes look like bruises. Her hair is tangled with split-ends; even now, in the daylight, she is still shivering. For the first time, Isa wonders how they appear to this man— Isa, and Lea, and their friend. They have barely slept. Lea has dust in his hair and dirt ground in his clothes; little bleeding scrapes from their crash through the gardens. And Isa…

Isa doesn’t know what he looks like, right now.

“There’s some proper clothes in the bag,” is what Cid says, at last. “And use the damn first aid kit already, shit.” He turns for the warehouse door again.  This time, Isa doesn’t try to stop him.

“Bring us stew for dinner one night, old man!” Lea calls after him.

“I said I’m not a goddamn restaurant!” Cid bellows back, and slams the warehouse door behind him. 

“He says all that and brings us fresh bread anyway,” Lea says, once the sound of Cid’s footsteps have vanished. He is already digging through the duffle. “Hey, there are clothes in here! Sweet.”

Isa looks at the warehouse door for another moment. Something has lumped in his throat. 

Footsteps, behind him. Their friend says, a little wary— “Isa?”

He swallows hard. Then he turns away from the door. “Fresh bread,” he says, and tries to keep his voice even. “Want the first bite?”

Even in the shadows of the warehouse, her smile lights up her face. Isa does his best to smile back. Lea, pulling a shirt from the duffle, shouts, “Check if there’s jam!”

Nothing has changed, really. They still have nowhere to go. He still doesn’t know what to do. But maybe, even if only for today… maybe they’re safe. Maybe.

Isa can only hope.

.

They spend the day in bated breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does. No guards knock on the warehouse door; even Cid stays away. They crack open the first aid kit and duffle bag both; their friend changes in the shadows. The t-shirt is like a dress on her, the old sweatpants rolled up at her ankles. The socks swim on her feet. She gives a little twirl when she’s done dressing, and both Lea and Isa clap. The clothes don’t suit her at all, and yet— they suit her better than the hospital clothes ever did. She seems more solid. She seems more real. The relief in her face is unmistakable. 

They eat fresh bread and jam with their bare hands, and somehow it is the best thing Isa’s had in a long time. He can still barely swallow it. 

The sun sets. The warehouse shadows grow long. They cluster back in the corner, the duffle bag as a pillow. Lea and Isa shoulder to shoulder, their friend curled next to Isa with her back against the wall. Night falls slowly but surely. The silence is comforting, for once. Isa watches the shadows until their friend’s breathing finally evens out, soft and steady in sleep.

“Lea,” he says, quietly.

He can feel him inhale. Lea keeps his voice quiet too. “Isa.”

He doesn’t know what to say, suddenly. “…You awake?”

“I mean, obviously.” He doesn’t sound angry though— just sort of amused, and Isa can feel him shift against the ground, sitting up a little. The floor is cold against Isa’s back, hard and uncomfortable. He’s never slept on the floor before. He aches all over already.

A moment of silence. At last, Lea says, “You ok?”

Isa closes his eyes. “Yeah.”

Lea snorts. 

“…Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” He can feel the duffle bag move a little as Lea shifts again, the fabric dipping as he leans back against it. “I mean… we’ve all been on edge. It’s whatever.”

Isa holds himself very still. Their friend’s breathing hasn’t changed at all, dead weight on the bag. The words bubble up. “We were supposed to be ready,” Isa says, unable to stop himself. “We were supposed to— to know what to do, where to go—”

Lea sounds tired. “Yeah.”

“—and I just…” Isa stops. He’s lost the words for it; he grits his teeth, and then sighs, harsh and frustrated. 

“I get it.” In the darkness he can just barely see an outline of him, Lea’s hunched shoulders, one knee drawn to his chest. “But we couldn’t wait.”

Maybe we should have. But he can’t say it. He can’t even make himself believe it. Shame burns in his throat. “I know.”

“…Yeah.” Lea goes quiet too. The warehouse district is a silent place; something creaks from far-away, and the wind rustles the latched shutters of the windows. No birds, though. Isa rarely hears birds at all these days, even in sunlight. Never at night. 

Mostly all he can hear is their breathing. The floor of the warehouse burns cold against his back, but their friend burns warmer still. The fact she is there at all—it feels like something from a dream. It has been almost a year now since they first met her, and yet in all that time Isa has only ever known her behind the cell door, in the middle of the night, in secret. To see her outside of the lab’s cold shadows—to have her here, back to back to with them… it feels right. It feels fragile. It feels like something they could so easily lose.

“We can’t go home,” Lea says, at last, into this silence. “Can we.”

Isa stares up at the darkness. “No.”

“…It’s funny,” Lea says. His voice has gone really quiet. “I mean, I always kind of figured… I mean, the moment we decided to break her out, you know? Like, you can’t just go home after that. That’s the first place they’d look for us. And I definitely got that memorized, but—“ 

Yeah. Isa gets it. “It’s different,” he says. “Actually doing it.”

“…Yeah.” Lea sighs a little. Isa can hear him lean back against the duffle. “Well. No need for our folks to keep worrying about our grades dropping anymore, at least.”

Oh, yes, because their children vanishing is clearly a better thing to worry about. Isa shakes his head, biting back the sudden and inappropriate urge to laugh. It really is just… so silly. All this time, all these months of sneaking into the castle at night and sleeping through their classes in the day; all this time Isa has spent utterly apathetic to his parent’s rare disapproval and the way the teachers tutted at his failing grades. Hasn’t he already made this choice? Hasn’t he always known, deep down? They had promised to get her out, but that was never a promise they could make without losing something else. 

It had seemed so easy, back then. Because what did it matter? His parents’ anger, the falling grades, the future he’d once imagined for himself— it was nothing, in comparison. There were people locked beneath the castle and their friend lived in a cage. Held up against that… nothing else had really seemed all that important, anymore.

They made their choice long ago. So it shouldn’t matter now, Isa thinks, and yet—

And yet.

He will likely never see his parents again. His teachers, his school, his other friends. His whole life, everything he’s ever dreamed for himself… derailed, utterly and entirely, from this one choice.

But their friend is here, beside them. He can hear her breathing in the dark. Only earlier today they saw her in sunlight; they saw her smile. And earlier still—the three of them, in that back-alley, hiding in the shadows. His hand on Lea’s shoulder and their friend clutching at their sleeves. Together. Together, all three of them, no bars or cells and cold metal walls and—

And he can’t regret it. He can’t. No matter what happens next, Isa never wants to regret that moment.

“Lea,” he says. 

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

He cannot see him in this darkness, but Isa can imagine his smile. 

“Don’t worry so much,” Lea says, and this time Isa can hear the grin in his voice, too. He closes his eyes against the warmth. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together. Got it memorized?”

He can feel their friend shift. She takes his hand. Isa stills, eyes widening, something like shame locking in his throat— how much has she heard, how long was she awake, was she listening?—but all she does is squeeze his fingers. 

Isa doesn’t move. His breathing shakes. He swallows hard, and then he squeezes her hand back.

“Yes,” he says, quietly. His voice is rough. He clears his throat. “Got it memorized.”

Lea laughs—sharp and surprised, a little sheepish. Fabric rustles; a second hand finds his in the dark. If their friend burns cold then Lea has always burned warm—holding his hand now is like cupping a flame. It is comforting. It is familiar. 

“Together,” Isa echoes, and the word settles in the silence like a promise.

[captmickey]

Six Sentence Sunday and for once I have the upper hand in tagging. But before that, here are some sneak peeks:

From Brotherhood:

He stopped and looked at Matt. “Beg your pardon?”

“You read this book and that’s usually a requirement when doing an apprenticeship, yet here you are as a guard.” Matt rested his arms on the box. “So something had to have happened or you’re that much of a bookworm.” 

“You definitely don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Ken grumbled. 

“And now that you’re being this huffy means I’m right.”

The two stared at each other before Ken broke the contest first, letting out a huff.

“That is a pretty good observation.” He muttered under his breath.

From a prompt I have that features Sora from KH and the 3ADV:

Realizing he was a few steps behind, he jogged over to the others. Sora leaned close to the pirate and looked at the map. “Any idea where we’re heading next?” He asked.

“There’s a nearby town from the look of it?” Guybrush tilted his head slightly. “At least I hope it’s a town. I don’t want to walk into another piggy monster’s base… again.”

“For the last time, bokoblins.” Link corrected.

Guybrush shrugged. “I like piggy monsters better.”

“Why not just call them goblins?” Sora asked. “They kinda look like one.”

Graham made a face. “You… never met a goblin, have you?”

“Nope!” Sora answered too confidently.

To tag, @thewatercolours @goddessoftechnology @nexttrickanvils @gerbiloftriumph @kursed-curtain and @toonysart

[aealzx]

It's funny. I was gonna to ask about Ephemer sooner or later, but it seems I was a little late as we now know. So.... maybe a stupid question, but whats Ephys condition (like what happened to him and stuff)? And you say Vanitas shot Strelitzia? Geez thats rough. These poor children i wanna hug them! 😭

Reaching out to gently rub Ventus’ back as Strelitzia held him, Riku wasn’t sure what had just happened other than it seemed to have been one of those points where Ventus remembered something. Only this time it seemed that Strelitzia knew about it too. It was like there was an instance that had been shared between the two of them, but it was hard to imagine what. As far as he knew no one had ever kidnapped Strelitzia before. And also as far as he knew until Terra’s team had rescued the boys Ventus and Vanitas hadn’t gotten to see much freedom before. It was probably a little insensitive to ask about what Ventus meant by Vanitas having shot Strelitzia, so instead Riku exchanged that question for another one. “Who’s Ephemera?” His gaze when over to the young man in the bed, assuming that was the owner of the name but not sure.

Blaine’s voice came from behind Riku in the doorway, causing the younger one to flinch. “... Hey,” Blaine then offered as a greeting, and shifted forward to kneel in front of Ventus. For a moment Blaine just examined Ventus to see how he was doing, gently brushing his hand on the boy’s hair.

“You remembered something scary, huh,” Blaine said quietly, giving a tiny huff of attempted mirth at the end. “I didn’t think you would, it was a while ago and you weren’t doing too well.” When Ventus ended up lowering his gaze to the ground, Blaine sighed in relent and got back up again to place the vase of flowers he’d brought on the table in the room. “Ephemera is this guy here,” Blaine began to explain, fluffing the flowers a bit and nodding towards the comatose lad. “A long time ago he and I grew up together. A bunch of silly adventures and all that. There used to be this company that would provide fake murder mysteries and such for people to solve. Ephem and I used to love those, and the idiot had a hero complex that also meant he loved helping people.” He spoke fondly, but kept his focus on the flowers for now. After giving a sigh, he stopped fussing with them and exchanged the task for sitting on the bed, putting his hand over Ephemera’s.

“A couple years ago… like six years or something, we got lost trying to solve one of those mysteries, and ended up finding a real one instead,” he admitted, bringing his gaze over to Ventus again. “A couple of little boys trapped in a cage through the window of a building we had no idea what it was. Of course Ephem couldn’t leave them alone. And unfortunately while he was able to get the cops to listen to him, he also found out they were planning on moving the boys in a few days. Soooo we all got the bright idea to rescue them ourselves. A bunch of dumbass teenagers thinking they could stand up to big thugs.” Rolling his eyes at how dumb they had been now that he could see the event in hindsight, Blaine shook his head in disbelief. “And we actually did get them out. But the blond one wasn’t doing so well, and couldn’t really run very fast. Even with his brother helping from behind. The bodyguards eventually caught up, I assume, and everything went downhill from there. All we heard was a gunshot, and then we found Ephem and Strele unconscious and bleeding in an alleyway. It wasn’t until a few months later that Stele was able to tell us that Vanitas was the one who shot her. Having picked up the gun from the bodyguard after Ephemera hit him over the head with a crate. And… unfortunately Ephem hasn’t woken up since then…… We’re not sure exactly what happened to him. But… he got pretty hurt.”

Letting that be the end of the story, Blaine looked absently at nothing while his foot betrayed his unease by swaying side to side. He tried to make lighter of it, but it was easy to see he still had lingering guilt over all of it.

_______________________

Ephemera was a hard one to fit in because for a long time it was really vague what happened to him in the canon KH story XD. It just didn't seem to fit quite right for me to put him as one of Eraqus staff like the others, so eventually after thinking awhile I came up with this.

Obviously Strelitzia didn't die in this AU, but I wanted to keep that part of the story in, and that resulted in Vantias just shooting her without killing her.

Vanitas actually hinted at this situation in a different post, but I just realized that it's in the one I put a gore warning on XD.

Here's the clip though where he mentions them:

“…..It’s common for people to do terrible things in the mind of self preservation. You felt threatened, so you performed actions that would keep your captors from harming you. The fault lies with them.”

“Even for the girl I chose to shoot on my own?” Vanitas asked, a smile splitting his face when Vincent’s fingers twitched. “You know, we actually got out once. Some do gooder hero broke us out of the cells. But then there were the bodyguards behind us, chasing the little girl with pigtails as she ran with Ventus. She wasn’t going to get anywhere like that, dragging his half functioning body around. So when they caught up to us I took their gun… and I shot her, for being so stupid. That should have taught her a lesson for ruining everything I built up. Her and the other guy. Can’t say I know what happened to them, for they took us back soon enough.”

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Ff7 and kh pacifist alternate timeline:

Anya: *huffs in an "I told you" way before walking out*

Hana: to be honest, the thought of pushing a baby out of me is terrifying

[allycryz]

2. Open your eyes. for either all of the ot6 or just emet-selch x y'shtola.

Surprise, I found a way to do both :D

Post SHB, A Beach Episode With an Extremely Vague KH Reference

Rated: T-ish for implied sex

Y’shtola approaches from behind and lays her hand atop his head, fingers sinking into thick hair. “Close your eyes, Hades.”

He goes still and quiet beneath her. The only sounds are the wind, the waves, and distant shouts of laughter from their loves. She pushes at the limit of her aether sense to perceive them: Thancred and Nerys on Haurchefant and Urianger’s respective shoulders, fighting to knock the other off into the water. ‘Tis late for such games, given the setting sun and the dangerous undertow but…

...There is a reckless quality in all of them that draws her. Perhaps because it means they’ll accept that same trait in her. She has spent a lot of time pondering the forces that draw the six of them together. No easy answers, but many promising theories.

Hades sits on the porch in his shorts and open floral shirt, dark glasses pushed up into his hair. Much of the garment’s pattern is lost to her–she recognizes the distinct aetheric signatures of purple and black dye, vague flower shapes, and gaps the pigment variations are too subtle to catch without concentrated focus (It is rare for him to be understated in his clothes. She suspects a floral print at the beach needs subversion before he will don it.)

She spends a moment assessing the correct point of entry before perching herself in his lap. At once–as expected–his hands seize her hips to steady her.

“May I open them now, darling?” His eyebrows shoot up to the hairline and glasses, but his lids remain firmly shut. 

“Not yet.” One hand continues holding the plate she brought from inside their rented beach house. The other runs over his cheek. The skin feels slightly warm. Hades had been diligent in applying and re-applying sunscreen...until Urianger started a sandcastle contest. 

Nerys was the one to remind him, noting he was getting pink all over. Which sparked a debate about whether the time spent re-applying would be taken from the two-bell time limit. (They ruled against him and also against the use of magic. He still won.)

He caresses her hip, rubbing the fabric of her sarong between two fingers. The other arm locks firm about her waist until her bathing suit top presses against his shirt and bare chest. Y’shtola goes very still, not giving him the slide of bodies he clearly wants.

Hades sighs. “Cruel sorceress, you’ll drive me to distraction.”

“It seems you were doing nothing before I arrived. What could I distract you from?”

“Why…” He leans forward until his mouth finds her forehead. “Watching our lovers of course. It’s cute Thancred thinks he stands a chance.”

“Ah but Thancred need only give one of those smiles at the right moment. And then he can push her into the water.” Y’shtola smiles. “Nerys can only resist such prettiness for so long.”

“I’m aware. How do you think I won her over?”

“I’m certain…” Y’shtola gives her driest tone. “That wasn’t the sole reason.”

“Believe what you will.” His mouth drops down, intent on pressing against hers. She slips the free hand between them, so that his lips press to her palm. Hades huffs a chuckle and slides his tongue over her skin.

“Now,” says Y’shtola. “Eyes stay closed. Open your mouth.”

He gives her a look as best as one can with their eyes closed. But he obeys, full lips parting. There is some type of balm upon them. Possibly darker than the natural shade. If it were more pigmented, the energies would feel different. 

She takes the offering from her plate and presses it to his lower lip. Hades follows the cue and takes it full into his mouth, chewing it slow as he savors it. Juice clings to her fingertips and she offers them in the same way. His tongue slides over, practiced enough to know how to avoid her clawtips. 

“Is this…?”

“Open your eyes.” 

He does, smiling at her and then at the plate. The fruit atop it is so vibrant a red-orange she perceives it as clearly as its star shape and the pith she peeled away in the kitchen. “So that’s where you were this morning. You did remember how dangerous I said the trek would be.”

“Of course. It meant I was well-prepared for the terrain and the monsters. Besides…” She picks up another piece of the fruit. “You knew exactly what you were doing, telling two aetherologists about an aether-rich fruit. And all four of them are hungry for the types of stories you said went along with it.”

“Five of you.” He plucks the fruit from her hand and presses it to her lips. “You cannot pretend you were not captivated.”

She hums and takes the offering, returning the slide of tongue over fingertips. Sucking lightly at the tip of his longest finger. The arm about her waist tightens, presses her nearer. 

“But tell me, darling. Why go by yourself?”

“Because we came here specifically to relax. Not to take quests and errands. I went so that the others can enjoy the…” She wrinkles her nose, realising the unintended pun about to come out. His chuckles says he guesses at it. “So they can enjoy the fruit without the strain. They deserve it.”

“Ah, but don’t you also deserve a reprieve?”

Y’shtola shrugs. “To tell the truth, I found the trek great fun. And I know-” She touches his lips to silence the comment bubbling from his mouth. “That Nerys and Haurchefant would say they also find quests enjoyable. But neither of them know when to pause or relax.”

“Pot, kettle.” He stands, lifting her in his arms. She clutches at him with her free hand, frowning a little at the sudden gesture. (At least she kept ahold of the plate.) “It seems once again, I must save you from yourself.”

"If you drop me into the ocean I will not be held responsible for the consequences."

"Tempting but no, I've something else in mind." He walks into the house, clutching her to his chest.

--

"What have you two been up to?" Thancred asks, poking his head into the bedroom. There is a raucous hubbub below, snatches of Haurchefant and Nerys giggling. 

"Guess." Hades says, drawing his hands over Y'shtola's bare back. She shivers under the touch but does nothing else, says nothing else. For once, she is utterly languid. 

"Room for one more?"

Hades sniffs. "Wash the brine and sand off of you and maybe we'll allow it."

"Spoilsports." But he steps back, just as the other three crowd the doorway. Well. Nerys and Haurchefant do. Urianger hangs back a little. 

"Shtola!" Nerys sounds both awed and stern. "We found the fruit in the kitchen. This morning, were you-"

"She was," Hades answers for her. "Would all of you please go wash up instead of tracking sand into the bedroom?"

"If it wouldn’t make the sheets gritty," she hears Haurchefant mutter. "We could go in now and track sand all over him."

"To the shower," Urianger says. "And then we shall see about the bed."

"Ah Uri, my sweet prince, you are the kindest of us."

"Mayhaps not, for I am sore tempted to vex Hades with my sandy feet upon his person."

Y'shtola laughs, pressing her face to Hades’ chest. The other four move on, voices muffled by the closing of the bathroom door.

"...that shower and the bath are rather large," Hades murmurs. "Do you want to join them?"

"Another time." She says, eyes falling shut again. "I'm resting now."

"I'm pleased to hear it, darling." He strokes the back of her neck and she melts against him, sleepy and content.