#to whoever reads my tags: sorry again for being late

[theealbatross]

Sebastian x Reader: come one, come all (One Shot)

Plot | Five years after graduating, two kindred spirits are finally getting married and their friends reminisce on their brilliant histories.

or, Lucas Brattleby interviews their friends on their memories and opinions of the future Mr. and Mrs. Sallow as a little gift for the couple.

Tags | None, fluff, overuse of the name Merlin, mentions of slight torture (hexes), lowkey bullying, lowkey codependency if you squint, obsessive behavior (but it's okay cause theyre in love), cursing, Lucas lowkey has a crush on Sebastian lol

[A/N: A line from this story is not made by me, "I would follow him to hell but I wish he wouldn't go there" so to whoever wrote that first just know your quote is the inspiration for this story!!]

“What is this again?”

The brat, Lucas Brattleby, had grown obscenely taller the last time Imelda had seen him, which was about 3 years ago when he was a rookie reporter covering her latest game. She heard he is now a publisher in his own right but didn’t seem to brush off that annoying lint in his voice back when he was still a Gryffindor matching illegal unsanctioned duels in the Clock Tower.

“A small gift of mine for the couple,” he grinned (still as irritating, she’s seen that grin enough times before she got her ass handed to her so forgive her for not being enamored), pushing the pen (recorder?) to her that she reflexively pushed him by his face. “Sorry.”

“And why should I do this?”

“Oh come on, Imelda. It’s just harmless questions to take us back down memory lane. It’ll be played at the reception and I promise I’ll send you everything before I finalize it just so you can make sure –”

“Alright!” She stopped walking, rolling her eyes when Lucas quickly assembled his camera, even quickly conjuring a chair and putting it at the center of the frame. Clearly, he knew she could change her mind at any moment.

“My lady,” he bowed dramatically, pointing a palm to the seat.

“Don’t call me that. You have 10 minutes before warm-ups start.” Lucas raised both of his hands in the air before quickly running behind the camera and clicking the button to start recording.

“I’ll be out of here in 5.” Lucas flipped a paper in front of him. “Let’s start with your name, a little something about yourself and where did you meet them.”

She took a deep breath, putting on the poker face she usually plasters on her face when talking to the media before her many games instinctively. “Imelda Reyes, Vice-Captain of Puddlemere United, and I had the misfortune of being in the same boat as Sebastian Sallow during our first year. She, however, was a little late to the party and wreaked havoc on my life when I was a fifth year.”

Lucas was meticulously writing notes in his fancy notebook.

“What’s the fondest memory you have of the couple?”

She scoffed, not even needing to think about it. “Sebastian? Definitely when he caught a bludger … with his face.” The memory of the cry he emitted pulled a real smile on Imelda’s face. “We almost lost and I would’ve killed him for it but oh was it glorious.”

He remembers this game.

“Didn’t he fall off his broom midair?”

Imelda waved a nonchalant hand in front of her face. “That girlfriend of his caught him with an Arresto Momentum so no harm done – well, except the crooked nose he sported for a week.”

Lucas chuckled with her, “And for the future Mrs. Sallow?”

“Nothing much, most conversation we’ve had was her beating me – beating me in a race, beating me in a duel, Merlin, she even beat me with the class ranking on her first year in Hogwarts. I had a five-year head start how was that possible?!”

Lucas smiled, reading that as bitter her words were she truly held no grudge over it. He was caught off guard, however, when Imelda suddenly had a small, serene smile on her face, her voice when she spoke softer. “She was … it was like I was always chasing after her. We all were, Sebastian always first in the race but … it was fun. I had fun. She made Hogwarts fun. A true competition, yknow? Didn’t have much at that point in my life.”

“Competition?”

“A friend.”

Lucas couldn’t help but be surprised – not everyone can be considered as Imelda Reyes’ friend as picky as she is, though he quickly fixed his face when she shot him a look that told him not to probe. “Did you ever think they would both get married?”

Imelda scoffed out a laugh, crossing her arms. “I knew the only way they wouldn’t get married is if Sallow got assassinated by one of her many admirers and even then I wouldn’t put it past him to somehow turn into an Inferi just so he can still be the one to marry her. I’m honestly surprised he held on for this long, pretty sure he would’ve popped the question the moment we graduated.”

“Technically, he did. They just decided to get married this year.”

That one made her laugh out loud, shaking her head at her old friend’s antics. Of course, she knew those two would get married, basically tied to the hip, always getting in and out of trouble with each other and for each other. Bloody hell, they’d been married since fifth-year and just didn’t know it.

“Typical Sallow,” she caught herself. “Well, Sallows now, Merlin help us all.”

Lucas rechecked everything on his notes, making sure to mark any and all important details of the words his enchanted pen has written for him as he spoke with his former Senior, Garreth Weasley, who was once a thorn on the side of Professor Sharp but was now a renowned Potions Master actively getting scouted by Hogwarts, his blends sought upon by the most respectable wizards and witches all over the world.

“Did I think they would get married? Mate, Sebastian almost bit my head off when I tried to ask her if she would like to be partners for one potion class. One! And we were sitting next to each other! I’m sorry if I thought I was being friendly?!”

Lucas has heard and has unfortunately been a victim of Sebastian’s … tendencies. You, despite being the top duelist in Hogwarts was always, more often than not, partnered with Sebastian in every duel. The one time Lucas had agreed in a quiet solo duel without letting Sebastian know his senior had caught him on his way to his potion's class and nailed him to the wall by his cloak while threatening him to never let it happen again or he will turn him into a pretty outline in the walls of Hogwarts with Bombarda.

He thinks that was the closest thing he had been to peeing his pants.

“Yeah, Sebastian doesn’t have the best track record with friendly males around his girlfriend.”

“They weren’t even courting by then how would I bloody know that –”

“Ready, Poppy?”

Surprisingly, the sweet woman in front of him has been the most difficult to track down. Amongst their mutual friends she was the one he had no idea where to start, especially after his only lead, her grandmother, had no other information to give him aside that the last she heard Sweet Poppy was down South Clagmar Coast ‘doing Merlin knows what’.

Thankfully, the citizens of Cragcroft were a bit more helpful and he was able to send her an owl about his little project.

“Where should we start?”

Lucas made sure she was framed perfectly in the shot before nodding to himself. “Nothing complicated Poppy, just first impressions or any memory you have of the young couple.”

She pursed her lips in thought, nodding to herself, “The two of them have always been terrifyingly intimidating, especially for someone like me. Seemed to just attract attention and trouble on their own – I mean, killing a troll in Hogsmeade on the first day – just a bunch of troublemakers they were. Brilliant troublemakers – which only made them scarier in my eyes.”

Lucas nodded in total agreement but he couldn’t help but squint at her.

“You aren’t exactly innocent, Ms. Hid-a-Hippogriff.”

Her eyes widened, blushing at the accusation. “In my defense, future Mrs. Sallow helped me take care of Highwing.”

Poppy recounted the memories with a smile on her face.  Her dainty smile grew bigger as she recapped happy memories she had with her classmates.

“But they’ve always been lovely. Lovely people and an even lovelier couple. Sebastian has always been bright and charming and surprisingly kind for a Slytherin and she … she’s always been unapologetic of who she was. It also meant she never judged anybody for who they are either.”

The woman paused, the smile on her face remained frozen as if she was in deep reflection.

“A true friend – one of the truest I had.”

Lucas was never in their circle, hell, aside from each other and maybe Ominis nobody was truly ever in their innermost circle despite their popularity. At every explosive trouble the two were always caught in he couldn’t help but wonder just what they get up to when they weren’t caught. Even back then he knew he would’ve risked his life and followed them no question asked if it meant his young self got to go to one of their death-defying adventures with them.

But being two years younger was a barrier he could never overcome.

It is refreshing to hear of stories from their friend’s perspective and not in passing in the Central Hall in Hogwarts where it’s all half-true, fabricated, or painfully hyperbolic. Maybe that’s why he had thought to do this, a reporter’s disease of needing to know the truth, the dark side of the coin they hid with their secrets and anonymities passed only in hushed whispers and clandestine meetings with each other.

“Are you excited about the wedding?”

Poppy nodded eagerly. “Oh, I’m extremely happy for my friends! It’s not every day two souls find each other and just not let go. I’m glad they didn’t. After all they’ve been through, they deserve to have each other.”

He couldn’t have agreed more.

“That they do.”

Mr. Lucas Brattleby,

I have received your owl, unfortunately, I will not be able to go back there till the night before the wedding as I still have a business to wrap up here in America. For the questions you sent, I shall send this Howler and you may record it.

I have nothing good to say about Mr. Sebastian Sallow, that boy had done nothing but torment me in my youth. It’s a bloody miracle he had managed to snag the Hero of Hogwarts as his girlfriend – terrible lack of judgment on her part I must say, we all have our flaws – much less agree to be his wife. If there’s one good thing he did do, it was willingly become a lowly servant to such a lovely witch. Least he could do, really.

However, despite their blatant differences and unfortunate similarities I, for one, knew immediately that not even Death could sever such a connection – not if Sebastian Sallow had anything to say about it, and trust me I speak from experience. They’ve fought through detentions, goblins, dark wizards, and a damned troll – I’m sure marriage will be a breeze in a park.

Well, if I’m wrong, then let the future Mrs. Sallow know I would be more than willing to offer a comforting shoulder.

Leander Prewitt Department of International Magical Cooperation

PS. To my darling wife Leonora, light of my life, the last part was a joke and If I somehow disappear it was Sebastian Sallow who did it.

“They give Sebastian too much credit when my dear friend was equally as obsessed about him. Do you remember Allia?”

Lucas snapped his fingers when he finally put a face to the name he hadn’t heard in a while but made sure to look around lest one of the younger students managed to hear such … delicate matters in the DADA classroom. “Didn’t she transfer during your 6th year? Something about personal … complications?”

Natty laughed out loud, doubling over with tears in her eyes. “Oh, that excuse was all thanks to Ominis swinging around his name. Our dear witch hexed poor Allia while she was asleep for trying to poison Sebastian with Amortentia! Sneaked straight into the Ravenclaw tower and cursed her to grow the features of a rat every time she even thought about Sebastian! The only way Ominis could convince our friend to take back the curse and avoid expulsion was at the condition of her transferring and never letting the couple see even her shadow again.”

He never even noticed that his jaw was hanging off his face.

“Oh, if everyone only knew that fights I had prevented if a Junior so much as fluttered their lashes at Sebastian,” she shook her head, still laughing to herself.

Now all the pieces he hadn’t realized were part of the same puzzle clicked on his head. The flat smile on her face that never quite reached her eyes every time they were surrounded by strangers, the grip she always held on Sebastian’s arms no matter where they were going, the ‘promise ring’ Sebastian also wore when traditionally it was just the girl who had it, and the absolute absence of Sebastian’s name when girls talked about boys they fancied in the common room when he was undoubtedly better looking than most students in Hogwarts.

“A jealous witch she was, thinks she’s good at hiding it,” Natty chuckled.

Lucas realized in horror that she had scared off the entire female student body.

“But by the gods was she better at hexes.”

When Lucas had heard that Ominis Gaunt had been working closely with the Minister for Magic and was undoubtedly being groomed to be his successor, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Everyone knew he would be someone important someday so Lucas had damn near lost all hope as he sent an owl to the man.

When he received a reply in a fortnight brought by a regal-looking owl, Lucas thought he must have some soft spot for his fellow alumni. But it would seem the man just had a lot to let out of his chest.

“Oh, the stories I could tell! If I had a knut for every time I had to rescue one of those idiots out of a horrific situation they found themselves in I would be richer than the Blacks!”

He’d never seen his hair this undone in the 7 years they had been on the same campus. Maybe Lucas was just that good of a journalist or maybe it was the half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey that was the reason for his loose lips.

“I mean, Sebastian was bad enough, but once he found someone who would willingly dive with him to whatever dangerous expeditions he found interest in and I was outnumbered it was a bloody nightmare.”

For the first time in his life, he felt pity for the man. It was never really a secret why Sebastian didn’t serve half the detention he deserved nor why neither of them had ever been expelled when a trail of evidence led to the both of them red-handed and always at the scene of the crime. But he has to give it to Ominis … a lesser man would’ve cracked at their mischiefs.

“And Sebastian … everybody knows he would’ve willing let himself be target practice for all sorts of curses if she had asked.”

Lucas can’t even defend his childhood hero. Especially, of the things he had learned from his previous subjects. It would seem even the mightiest of men would always buckle in the face of their true love.

“I-I’m sure they’ve done the same for you,” Lucas winced.

“Oh, they better, with the flaming hoops I had to jump through to make sure we graduated alive,” Ominis waved him off indifferently. “They are my best friends. I would follow them to hell but I just wish they would stop going there for one damn semester.”

Lucas snickered, unfortunately unable to hold it in with just how stressed the memory of the mischiefs his favorite couple got up to has brought Ominis. He was sure the older man would choke him but he just sighed out a laugh until the two of them were laughing to each other.

“I guess they have always been the perfect person for each other.”

Ominis nodded, leaning his head on his fist. “Yeah …”

He threw Lucas a look.

“Do you think they won’t make me their children’s godfather if I begged?”

Lucas bit his lips. “My money is on the eldest getting named after you so …”

Ominis groaned.

Lucas refilled his glass.

[promptthebear]

🐰 Edmund Pevensie #14 please

Edmund Pevensie x Reader- "Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Part 1/2 <- ***UP NOW!!!!***

Summary: Soulmate AU. Set during the "Golden Age", Edmund thinks he's doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. Until his fated match appears in the most unlikely of places. 2nd person, reader is written as "you"

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I've been go so long. Part two for this is literally being written right now and will hopefully be up very soon. I just thought I should give y'all SOMETHING to end the dry spell. Enjoy!

TW: None that I know of, but please message me if you need something tagged.

Rain was falling in sheets outside his study window, and the sound of the drops against the panes had soothed Edmund into a light doze. It was late, most likely past midnight, and his candles had burned down to almost stubs in their holders. He’d been reading for hours, lost in tomes of Narnian history and retrospects on ancient magic traditions. As fascinated as he’d been, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from growing heavy, and the blue velvet chair felt almost like a lover’s embrace.

Not that Edmund would have any idea what that actually felt like, though he could muster up a pretty good guess. Over the years, he’d watched his brothers and sisters find partners, wed, and have children of their own. Even little Lucy had been married last summer, leaving Edmund as the last bachelor among the family. That was one of the many reasons he’d been taking solace in his study over the last few weeks. He was plenty used to being alone, but there were only so many nights in a cold bed one could take before it started driving him a little mad.

Another man may have sought out comfort in the village pubs, but the idea of a hot, stuffy room and the press of drunken, sweaty bodies held about as much appeal to Edmund as driving straws under his fingernails. So, instead, he filled his waking hours in the company of books, often choosing to fall asleep among them than make the long, solitary walk back to his dark and empty chambers. This would be the third night in a row he’d spend here, and regardless of how Susan chided him that sleeping in his chair would ruin his back, Edmund also knew it wouldn’t be the last either.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door startled the young king from his near stupor. With a snort and a grumble, he rose from his chair, rubbing at his stiff muscles and silently cursing whoever chose to disturb him at this hour.

The hallway felt far too bright after the dim, golden light in the library, and for a moment after he opened the door, Edmund stood there, dazzled and blinking away stars from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the face of one of the city guards. The young man seemed nervous, shifting from side to side and not quite able to meet Edmund’s gaze. Aside from the familiar uniform, the young man was little more than a stranger to him, and Edmund wondered why the captain would have sent someone so young to speak with one of the high kings.

“Your majesty. I beg forgiveness at the disturbance, would this matter have waited until morning I assure you I would not be here now.”

His voice betrayed his age, confirming Edmund’s suspicions that he was a new recruit, barely older than sixteen and almost twelve years his junior.

“Speak your piece and be on your way,” he replied, running a hand over his face to try and clear away any drowsiness that still clung on “It is far too late for either of us to be away from our beds”

The guard jumped at the sound of Edmund’s voice, and did some sort of half nod, half bow that made him look like a fish jerking around in a net.

“Again, my most sincere apologies your majesty. Once more, if it were not for the urgency of the situation I would not have caused you upset. My captain insisted that you be spoken with directly and that this message reach no ears but your own. I tried to tell him you’d be abed by now but-”

“Out with it, lad. The longer you speak, the longer the hour grows and the more weary I become.”

The edge to his words almost made Edmund wince. He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with the boy, but Susan had been right. Spending nights in his chair had made him incredibly sore, and had kept him from having a decent rest for far too long. The combination of both was not providing him with an overabundance of courtesy.

“We caught a pick pocket, your majesty. In the market, earlier this evening.”

Edmund reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ease the throbbing that was starting to grow behind his eyes.

“Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Yes, Edmund acted as the King’s Justice and presided over all cases brought into court, even trifling ones like pick-pocketing. However, as far as he could tell, there was no reason something that simple would bring a guard to his door in the middle of the night.

“It is, your majesty”

“And? Have you all suddenly forgotten how to do your jobs? The thief can spend the night in lockup with your other petty criminals, and I’ll be there to preside over their trial in the morning. If that’s all you came to tell me, then I suggest you be on your way before I take it upon myself to serve you with a demerit and suspend you from service for the next week.”

The door was halfway closed when the young guard’s boot wedged itself between the door and the wall. Edmund stared down at it for a moment, trying to process the sheer gall of this otherwise seemingly placid young man. Nobody, in his recent memory, had ever kept him from closing a door when he wished. If he wasn’t contemplating sending this man to scrub out the barracks privvies for the rest of his natural life, he almost would’ve been impressed at his tenacity.

“Alright, that does it, I’m giving you until the count of three to get out of my sight and if you aren’t gone by two then so help me-”

“She has the mark, your Majesty”

It felt as though someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water upon Edmund’s head. For a moment he stood, still as a statue while his mind raced at frantic speeds to try and make sense of what he was hearing. The lad had to be joking, there simply was no other explanation. This was all part of an elaborate prank someone was pulling on him, like Peter maybe, and Edmund would walk all the way down to the dungeons only to find a sow or donkey painted with a mark that matched his own rather than the girl he’d been promised.

He opened his mouth to tell the young guard he was a liar, along with a few other choice phrases, only to find his voice had left him. What was the worst that could happen, if he followed this boy? Experience told Edmund that he could end up being the kingdom laughingstock the next morning, but what of it? Most of his subjects, noble and common alike, either ridiculed him behind closed doors or pitied him to his face, which was somehow worse. The Lonely King, they called him. A solitary man in a world where everyone was fated to find their perfect match at some point or another. Would a lifetime of isolation be truly worth avoiding a few moments of ridicule?

The carved animals in the wooden door stared blankly back at Edmund, and though the flickering candlelight made their faces seem to dance and move among the shadows, they had no more answers for him than the young King had for himself. With a sigh, he clasped the edge of the door and pulled it open. It creaked loudly, a sound made louder still by the otherwise hushed air in the sleeping castle. The young guard waiting beyond started at the noise, and took a step back towards the far wall as though he expected Edmund to leap out and bite him.

Now standing in the full light of the hall, Edmund saw in earnest how young the guard really was. He may have been a youth of sixteen, but he had the face of a twelve or eleven year old, making him look like a squire rather than the soldier he was. A light dusting of fuzz across the boy’s cheeks, a hint of a beard, was the only thing to suggest he was near manhood and it made Edmund feel all the more guilty for being so hard on him.

“Come on,” he said, clapping a friendly hand down on the guard’s soldier as he moved past him “Let’s get this over with.”

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hiiii, hope u're doing well :)

Can I request a slow burn-strangers to lovers connor stoll x mortal reader please?

( no headcanon, just a one shot 🫡)

Like how they met, their first kiss... AND connor reveling he's a half blood

A fem reader or gender neutral is okay

Okay so this has been sitting in my drafts since the stone ages but I had a burst of motivation so here's 2.9k of teasing and fluff

It's not really a slow burn because it's a one shot but it's implied that it happens over time so yk yk. And I checked all the boxes you get first interactions a make-out session and the big reveal :)

<3

Cafe au but it's not an au--- Connor Stoll x gn mortal!reader

»»————-　★　————-««

“We’ve got a new kid today, you wanna show him the ropes?”

You finished ripping the receipt out of the machine and smiled politely at the customer who took their change and moved to the side. The receipt made a tearing sound as you pushed it onto the metal spike [you didn’t actually know what it was called, you realized], and then spun around, “oh thank god, yes please.”

“That’s what I thought,” Maria chuckled, wrapping an apron around her middle and pining his name tag to the front of the green material that had an odd shaped stain on the pocket. “You hate the till.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“Hopefully the new kid, he should be here in a minute, I did say four thirty.” He looked up at the clock behind the queue of customers waiting for their coffees that read four forty, and then glanced towards the glass doors.

“What’s his name?” You ask, resetting the price on the cash register and taking off the stupid little cap whoever was at the til had to wear. You groaned, “oh please don’t tell me it’s his first job, i can’t explain how to count change to another pimply little-”

“It’s his first job, just moved to New York,” she said, lifting up a sticky note and reading the note underneath it on the whiteboard near the mops. “And his name is… Cecil Markowitz.”

“I’m here, I’m here!”

“We noticed.” Maria muttered drily, pulling the cap over her jagged strawberry blonde hair. 

A blonde kid, maybe fifteen or so, panted on the other side of the counter. He was in a school uniform that he tugged a black hoodie over the top of as he spoke at the speed of light. “Sorry, my brother had to drive me and he ran like four red lights so we wouldn’t be late but then-”

“Then you shut up so your amazing big brother —who did not have to drive you here by the way, I have other things I could be doing— wouldn’t get arrested?” Another boy asked with a raised eyebrow, swinging car keys around his pointer finger. You had to pay a little more attention to him than the bouncing blonde currently eyeing the tip jar, because wow, the jawline he had…

“You have to look after us Connor! That’s the whole agreement!” Cecil hissed up at his brother. 

“Zip it, short stuff.” Connor [you liked the name] smirked, then turned to you. His eyes widened for a moment and you ignored the fact you immediately noticed they were blue. He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat, “Um. uh, I’ll get a black coffee… please.”

You just shrugged at him, and motioned for Cecil to follow you into the kitchens, where the fridge foods were whipped up. “Don’t order from me, I'm showing short stuff around.”

A look of horror dawned on the new employee’s face. “No, not you too!”

»»————-　★　————-««

“I’m sorry, but we don’t serve pizza here, there’s a dominoes a few blocks away if you-”

“No, I want to order one here, thank you.” The customer said to you with a frown and that patronizing look you got ten times a day just for being a teenager. “I know what I’m talking about, I’ve gotten pizza here a million times, and I'd like two large meatlovers.”

You stared blankly at the woman in front of you for a moment and wondered if it was too late to drown yourself in caramel sauce just so you wouldn’t have to deal with this lady. You take a deep breath and bring out that perfectly fake smile again to-

“Oh Fucknuggets! Miss, that chick just ran off with your purse! You’d better go chase her down!”

“What?” She shrieked, and reached for her big red leather bag and went pale under her orangey powdered face. “Oh for heaven's sake!”

The woman was out the door immediately, chasing down four different people that had just left the cafe. She waved her arms wildly and wailed like a duck that had just been stepped on.

Connor watched her leave with an amused expression on his face you had to quickly pull your eyes away from. He reached into the pockets of his spiderman hoodie [SpiderHam, to be specific] and pulled out a blinged up silver purse, flicking through the contents with interest. 

He turned to you and held up an ID card with that smug expression that made your stomach feel like you’d had too much bubble tea. “I reckon I could pull it off, in the right lighting.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.” You said quickly with your eyes narrowed, but Connor pulled the wads of cash out and stuffed it into the tip jar as he turned to the glass double doors. 

“Hey!”

Cecil nearly stumbled into another customer and you motioned to the back of the cafe, pulling his apron off the rack and handing it to him as he took off his yellow beanie, which for some reason had a lot of little sun’s sewn around the edges. “Hey short stuff, you can start by taking the trash out.”

He visibly sunk, tying the apron around his middle and sighing. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Definitely don’t go over the fence to the back of the dollar store because it would be a terrible idea to see the baby racoons living in the recycling bin.”

Connor grinned, watching his little brother speed out of the room with black bags of rubbish in his hands. “So… Can I order from you today?”

“As long as it’s not a pizza, go ahead.”

“...What’s your favorite?” Connor asked, leaning on the bench littered in plastic cup lids and receipts, with his chin in his hands. He was lucky there wasn’t a queue behind him, but you probably would’ve let him sit there and distract you anyway.

You just tapped away at the ipad, sending the last of the order’s over to Maria, who was making one of the matcha teas. “Not a black coffee, if that’s what you're asking.”

“No seriously, what is it?” he said, and you felt yourself get hot when he glanced somewhere a bit lower than your eyes. Not in a gross way, but holy shit when did his own eyes get that lidded? “Maybe I’ll try it sometime…”

“Are you asking to kiss me or do you actually want an iced strawberry tea?” You blurted out, hand frozen over the screen in front of you. 

Connor went red in a matter of seconds and shot up, his eyes certainly not lidded anymore. “Oh look at the time I have to go make sure my goldfish doesn’t drown,” He yelped, tripping over untied shoelaces and scrambling to the door. 

“Careful… You’re looking at him like you look at those racoons.” Maria muttered as he walked past with a little grin.

»»————-　★　————-««

You dumped your school bag on a bench in the corner of the kitchen, but before you could ask Jerry if there was a new order you were supposed to pick up some new ingredients [the amount of times Connor ordered a black coffee when he dropped off Cecil meant they were seriously out of it[, someone banged on the back door. 

It was pouring with rain outside, but you eased open the door and peaked out into the stormy weather, then frowned at the figure. “What are you doing back here-”

You stopped in your tracks and choked, nearly dropping the drink in your hands. Cecil rubbed his hands together to avoid frostbite, a thin line of blood down the side of his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and thin patches of golden powder covered it, and his clothes.

He grinned, wiping his nose. “If it’s any consolation… This isn’t my blood?”

“Maria’ll clean you up, go.” You open the door properly and shove him into the warmth, then shut it behind you and step out into the biting wind that ripped though your green apron, and marched up to the car parked near the dumpster.

Holding your hand over your eyes so you weren’t blinded by the headlights, you yelled at the driver. “Why the fuck did short stuff just come out of a fucking apocalypse movie?”

Connor leant over the passenger seat and opened the door with a totally fake innocent smile. You didn’t think he could look innocent. Hot, on the other hand…He still looked hot with blood smeared across his cheek and something shiny underneath his fingernails, apparently. He shrugged one shoulder “I mean, it isn’t our blood?”

“Connor.” You muttered, crossing your arms and squinting through the mist swirling around your feet. You looked down and had to step out of a puddle with a grimace. 

Connor blinked and replied instantly, as if this was something he had to do a lot. “Do you want the technically legal version, the version that’ll make you happy, or the-”

You cut him off and glared, rain clinging to your eyelashes. “The truth.”

Connor thought for a moment and then gave you an apprehensive look. “There was a feral Harpy in the backseat of the car that popped out when we got to the intersection two blocks over.”

You sighed. “I said the truth-”

“You don’t believe me.” His voice was faint, and somehow hurt. He sounded resigned though, like he was expecting it. The look on his face made you want to climb into the pretty beat up car and grab his face and tell him you believed him so much and forever just so he’d look happy again.  

Maybe if you let him talk. He could be referencing something you hadn’t seen, you reasoned. “Was the harpy like a monster or a furry?”

“Well when you think about it harpy’s really are just furry’s, but yeah it was an actual monster.” Connor said simply, and then he chewed on his thumbnail nervously “Uh, do you wanna… hop in? You look like my brother when he stuck a huntsman in Annabeth’s pillow case.”

“What does spider pranks have to do with being soaked?” You mutter, not really meaning for it to be a question. You climbed into the passenger seat, brushing pools of water off you and wiping your nose. 

“You can’t even imagine.”

You raise an eyebrow at Connor. “I work in customer service, try me.”

“My dad is a god.” He blurted out, then froze and turned away from you with an odd expression, his gaze trained on the rain outside.

“Are you talking about the Romans and the Egyptians, or are you Jesus?”

“Greeks, actually.” Connor said through gritted teeth, then his eyebrows shot up and that familiar tone you might have thought about a few times seeped back into his voice. He untensed and grinned at you“One of my buddy’s did come back from the dead actually… but I don’t think Jesus would like him very much.”

“Why?”

“He’s dating one of my other buddies.”

“Oh.” You blinked, but you weren’t really sure what this conversation had to do with Connor and Cecil being attacked. “Good for him.”

“My dad’s Hermes.” Connor said suddenly, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes. When you didn’t answer, too focused on the way his face looked when he scrunched up his eyes, he glanced at you again with a cautious smile, as if your reaction really mattered to him.  “Surprise?”

You thought for a moment, actually considered it, and “Yeah. That checks out,” 

“Whaddaya mean? I don’t have wings on my shoes!”

“Isn’t he the god of like, traveling and stealing shit?” You ask, smiling back at him as reassuring as you could, soaked to the bone sitting in a boy’s car six minutes before your shift started. “Dude, you drive your brother back and forth across New York four times a week. And you stole that lady's purse.”

‘Oh yeah. That was fun,” he sighed, and sunk in the driver's seat. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and closed his blue eyes, relief painted across his face.

You wiped your nose again, sure that you’d get a cold tomorrow just from standing in the lovely New York weather for more than a few seconds. A song played on the radio quietly, and you recognised it from the playlist Maria played on the speakers in the cafe sometimes. 

The lyrics went something like ‘I rob and I kill to keep him with me,

I'll do anything for that boy’. When you looked over at Connor, you gulped.

Connor glanced at you from underneath his hand, and then looked down at the drink still clutched in your hands. The pink tone of it matched the fluffy strawberry’s hanging from the rear view mirror, and it was making your fingers hurt with the cold. 

He smirked. “Are you supposed to drink while you’re working?”

“You make it sound like I'm doing shots behind the counter.” You shot back with a glare, and then felt your face heat up as you spoke. “And uh… it’s not… I didn’t make it for myself.”

“There’s an angry old lady in there, you know?”

This was excruciating. You ducked your head and bit your lip a little, looking out the window so you wouldn’t have to see Connor’s face when that stupidly hot smirk spread across his lips. “Uh… I didn’t make it for a customer, either…”

“Is that-”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Connor was wide eyes and slack jawed when you turned back to him, a dark blush across his cheeks that you wanted to take a photo of because goddam he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t be forgetting the sight any time soon. He opened his mouth to talk, his eyes no longer at, well… eye level. 

You put the drink into the holder between the seats and followed his gaze. “Just kiss me.”

You hadn’t seen that smile before. 

His hands were so warm on your jaw, as hot as the tight feeling in your chest that melted quickly. It happened so fast you couldn’t really register anything until you realized Connor was halfway between your seats with his teeth on your bottom lip and his soft hair threaded between your fingers. 

You used it to tug him closer, as close as he could and then more, because he was warm and soft and you could feel his grin through his lips that moved against your own in rhythm that ebbed and flowed. He slid his hands off you and you nearly pulled them back, until Connor was hugging you tight around your middle, his fingers knotting through the bow tied on your apron. 

You chewed on his lip, which felt puffy and pulsing under your touch, but you kept kissing him, breaking away every few seconds to breathe, but you couldn’t not press your lips along his jaw. He was just too much. You had to kiss him everywhere and pull on his hair and tilt his head back and melt into his touch like you’d die if you didn’t. 

Connor sighed into your mouth and gulped, you could feel his Adam's apple bob under the palm of your hand as you pushed him back gently by his neck. You got up on your knees as he blinked once or twice, like he’d been in a trance. “You took that all very well,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll freak out later when it sinks in.” You muttered back, pushing him back into the driver's seat where he’d begun. He made an odd noise and tightened his arms around your waist, ducking his head and when he pouted you couldn’t help but slide over the cupholder and sit on his lap, as if you hadn’t been planning to do so the whole time. 

Then he frowned, “Wait, you’ll freak-”

“Shhhh,” you said, pressing a finger to his soft lips. He shut up immediately. You glanced behind you at the console, checking the time. “I have four and a half minutes til I have to start, we can discuss this later.”

“Deal,” Connor breathed, dragging your hands down to his neck again and looking up with vague out eyes. You grinned at him and went back to wiping that stupid smirk off his lips.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Your boyfriends here.”

You looked up from the kitchen counter you were wiping down after an accident with the tub of coconut shavings, “Why?”

“I’m assuming he’s here for you, short stuff doesn’t have a shift til the weekend.” Maria checked the whiteboard and glanced out the swinging doors. You moved to peek over her shoulder and saw Connor standing by the doors, swinging his car keys around his pointer finger absentmindedly. He was wearing that spiderman hoodie again, the one you’d accidentally tipped black coffee down the front of once when you’d worn it. 

You grinned, if you finished up cleaning and took the trash out, you’d be done in five minutes and you���d get to follow him to his car that surely wasn’t road safe and then go wherever it was he’d planned this time. 

“Go. But tomorrow you have to stop the racoons from eating the tires off my Harley.” Maria sighed, crossing his arms and motioning to the exit.

“I love you.”

He raised his eyebrows “Was that directed towards me or the boy-”

“Both.”

»»————-　★　————-««

[acerathia]

two birds || Act II

Summary:

Hanahaki: A disease stemming from bottling up romantic feelings, as these decide to grow inside the lungs and the blood system of the sick person, resulting in flowers. Thus the first symptoms are the coughing up of flower petals accompanied by pain and breathlessness, as the flower continues to grow as long as the affected does not confess their feelings. Alternatively, the growing flower can be removed via surgery, but it may affect the ill person’s ability to feel love in various forms. Or How do you react with falling in love with no real chance? Simple, a tragedy in five acts.

Wordcount: 2.8k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Obito Uchiha / Reader

Tags/CW:

features of a tragedy, hanahaki disease, childhood friends, some degree of isolation, No War AU,

Note:

Please note that I choose to not tag some stuff, as it contains heavy spoilers, proceed with caution and with the knowledge that everything is either connected to the tragedy aspect, or the hanahaki disease itself. !! I didn't forget abt this!! Here!!

Scene I. – YOU, KAKASHI HATAKE, RIN NOHARA and MINATO NAMIKAZE, and afterwards OBITO UCHIHA, sitting between the grass, enjoying the cool breeze of remembrance

The scene: The training field, the whispers of the trees around you, where everything truly started.

The grass blades tickle your wrists as you lean, rest yourself on them, face stretched towards the sun, eyes closed flashing orange. Someone shifts behind you, shoulders brushing, tipping your balance, barely. A pop cracks, the joints of Kakashi shifting after this wait, minutes laying down on you heavy as hours. 

“I can’t believe he’s actually late. Again,” a husky voice starts, Kakashi, his expectations bleeding through his complaint. 

And you can’t help but turn to look at him, his face pulling a straight line to Rin, trying to connect, convey something. Instead, you’re the one answering. “Hm, you know as well as we do that he just gets busy, you know? Teaching a team and all that.”

Don’t you know how exhausting being a team is. Well, Minato-sensei does, but whoever belonged to that team had lived with the quarrels and arguments of the two boys, men. As much as they had learned to trust each other all these years ago, they still keep a hand deep in each other's hair, ready to drag, to rip, to tear. So you have every right to protest and to protect. It’s not fair otherwise. 

His head had turned to look at you, his dark eyes bore into you, searching for something in the blemishes of your skin. Maybe he found something, as his jaw works and opens, but before the words could even coat his tongue, the grass crunches, alerting you of the newcomer. A pair of sandals start nudging your hips and you look up, meeting an embarrassed grin and a hand rubbing the back of a neck. 

“Hey, sorry for my tardiness, the kids wanted to try one last mission today, and I couldn’t refuse them,” Obito immediately apologizes, eyes wandering over the spread group before landing on you. But only for a brief moment, as it jumps back to Rin. 

You unlink from whatever argument is currently arising, taking a swing to lift yourself onto your feet, standing up, stretching until you hear a couple of tiny pops. Continuing with your movements, you work on the musculature, feeling the pull in your calves, hips, arms. 

After you feel ready, you simply grab Obito’s arm, disrupting the heated fight about their ideals and expectations, dragging him to the middle of the field. Depositing him in a spot before taking your place a couple of steps away. 

“C’mon, like we used to do!” you demand, sliding your foot behind you, lifting your hands in front of you. No weapons, no Jutsus. Just raw power, just the two of you. 

The pout caused by Kakashi melts off and a bright, excited grin takes its place, and he too takes his position, bending slightly forward. His arms flex with each movement of his wrists, his thighs tauten, the band of the little bag around it stretching. You let your eyes roam over his shoulders, waiting for any indicating flinch, proceeding to glide over his biceps, his neck, only to stop over his plush lips, still puckered into that grin of his. You feel yourself trip, freefall, your heart drops, and yet you remain in the same position. 

You take a breath, trying to calm your heart down, the beat rising to your head, thumping words into your ears, whispering something you cannot discern. The echo only intensifies as you glance over his nose, his eyelashes squinting over his dark eyes, as if space had taken residence inside them. And you can’t help yourself but drown in them, the stars inviting, coercing you. 

And the taste of iron coating your tongue rips you back, out of that thought. You have been biting the inside of your cheek, tearing the tissue apart, popping blood vessels. Only because you have been distracted for a moment. But you’re glad about it, as it brought you back to your senses. 

So you couldn’t miss the kick aimed against your head, blocking it, grabbing his ankle, and yanking him to the ground, trying to gain some time. But he catches himself with his hands, kicking his other foot, and barely missing your chin, as you let go of his other leg to take a step back. Taking advantage of his open position, you decide to throw some of your own kicks in, trying to make him lose balance. And he does, but he’s able to latch onto your lower leg, pulling you onto the ground with him. You immediately just grab his hair, attempting to put him into a triangle chokehold. To your misfortune, he has a talent for evasion, leading to him being able to grab both of your wrists, pinning you down, knees heavy on yours, pressing on a nerve. 

His face lingers above yours, grinning, gloating about his win. His breath fans over your face, herbs and spices, and your eyes jump from his pearly smile to his crescent eyes, to his arm stretched over you. And you finally understand what your heart has been telling, thumping you all along. 

I love him. I love him. I love him

The air escapes your lungs with this realization and you have to force yourself to calm down, to act like your breathlessness is due to that fight. Yeah, there’s no other reason for you to almost choke on the air around you, his presence suddenly too overwhelming, pressing over your insides, squirming. 

Acting like nothing is wrong you swing forward to act like you want to bite him, or to headbutt him. Thankfully he takes the hint and he releases you from his hold, flopping onto the grass beside you. You have been observing him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes immediately jump to Rin, and the echo in your head gets warbled, wrong. You knew of his crush on your friend, it’s obvious, and he’s been looking at her like that for years at this point. And you also knew, the conversations under the clouds, just the two of you, Rin had started to reciprocate those feelings. And who are you to interfere with this blooming relationship? With this you decided to keep the thumping of your heart a secret, may it travel along your veins and unfurl between your bones, until it withered with time. 

You stay laying on the ground, watching as Obito finally stands up to join Rin, both their smiles brilliant under the shining sun, complementing each other, eyes roaming and accepting. With a snort you avert your eyes, staring at the clouds passing by. Of course you won’t tell, won’t even think about whispering those words to him, your pride heavier than the echo between your ribs. Your friendship heavier, your dignity heavier. You don’t dare think about the repercussions of these simple words, what could shatter, what could break. You aren’t even sure how you would handle the rejection, the rejection which is certain as the grass beneath your fingertips. 

Something nudges your ribs and your gaze wanders to the source. Grey hair meets you, not the ones you want to see, but you grin nonetheless, heaving yourself into a seated position. 

“What? You wanna make fun of me for losing?” you ask with a small giggle, aware he wouldn’t outright do so. Rather he would simply tell you what you did wrong, maybe offer you to show you how to execute whatever move he explained to you. 

But he just sighs, shaking his head. “Let’s fight.” Was the only thing he says, cocking his head to tell you to stand up. And you do, you’re almost glad for the distraction, and you wonder if he has noticed something, but his gaze to the conversation at the edge of the field tells you something else. 

You bump slightly into him, bringing him back to the current situation, exchanging a quick look, to which he frowns. You don’t give him enough time to truly grasp the situation and get into position at the other end of the field. He eventually does too. 

This fight is more intense, as you could concentrate a bit tiny better, than you earlier had. Doesn’t mean you necessarily win, rather Kakashi actually used the same move you wanted to use, to end this fight, indirectly showing you how to actually carry it out without worrying about slippery enemies. You have to tap out of the chokehold because you knew if he had been serious, you would be passed out by now. 

He releases you and you just flop, going limp on top of him. A scoff escapes him, the equivalent of a giggle for him, before he shoves you off not ungently. Your face meets the sandy ground and you close your mouth to not inhale any grains, and you had no other choice but to actually move and roll around. In this movement you catch sight of the pair still deep in their conversation, his hand on her knee, her body leaned towards him. 

A sudden urge to cough overwhelms you, and you clear your throat. It seems like you still inhaled some sand. You raise to your feet to grab some water, helping with the tickle at the back of your throat. While you were almost drowning in your water, Kakashi had joined the other two, vying for her attention in his own way. And you can’t help but snort, surpressing a laugh. Then your eyes meet Minato-sensei’s, his eyes laughing and yet overwhelmed, almost like the very first day he met that particular group. And now you can’t help but giggle, the tickle in your lungs just bursting out, almost forgetting everything troubling you, almost feeling like a little kid again. 

So you quickly join the group, leaping at Obito’s back, trying to convince him to carry you to Ichirakus, and he’s attempting to throw you off, complaining about how you always make him carry you, and how you never carry him, how about that?

That’s how you end up jumping off, grabbing him and throwing him over your shoulder, despite his larger frame. You laugh and just begin walking with him like that, answering his complaints with the reasoning he gave you, you never carry him, and now it’s your turn. 

Scene II. – The foregoing, the smell of herbs an echo of the past, the taste of promise coating the tongues

The scene: Ichirakus, the imprints of your shared history, the place where everything happened

On the way to the ramen place, you were forced to put him down, as his movements made it near impossible to properly carry him al the way, so you had no other choice but to comply, at least for now. 

That’s how you still ended up at Ichirakus with no bruises or empty laughter. Because you’re quite sure he would have started tickling you if you refused to put him down, and that would’ve lead to you both tumbling down the road. But you showed restraint and so you both could sit at the booth with no aching bones. 

As usual the boys frame around Rin like a rim from the outside world, you and Minato on the outside, forming concentric rings around her. And you all order whatever you’re craving at the moment. Waiting for your food another argument breaks out, and you miss the reason, but you help Rin and Minato-sensei to calm them down nonetheless. And due some miracle, they actually stop, even if both turn their noses up. 

Once the food arrives everyone gets chatty again, surrounding the center like a magnet. But your gaze wanders back to Obito, his back turned on you, a smile as bright as stars, eyes only for her. And you grin cheekily, trying to come up with something to tease him with, hinting about their feelings in the most obvious, most embarrassing way possible, when you suddenly have a cough fit. Your lungs rustling with every inhale, with every rasp they tickle. 

With watering eyes you try to grab some water, but there’s no glass of water on the table yet, and you have to turn around to avoid disturbing the others. It seems like you’re actually getting sick, rather than having inhaled some sand. Some kind of luck you have. At least you manage to grab your water bottle, letting the warm rest rinse your throat. 

You turn back around to see that your food has been served. Digging into your ramen, you momentarily forgot about your cough, not giving it more meaning than it probably has. And you try your best to ignore how barely anyone had noticed your problem just a few moments ago; only Minato-sensei has send you a worried look, to which you slightly waved with your hand, mouthing the words ‘sick’. With that he reluctantly nods, steering his focus to his own food, as the two fighters are momentarily distracted. 

Usually you would initiate some kind of eating contest, but you feel tired and drained for some reason, so you stuffed yourself full, enjoying the spiciness of the food, the way it fills your craving insides, almost like calming something inside of you. 

Warm and comfortable, you pay for your meal and stand up, telling the others that you’re going to head home. And you repress a flinch, as Obito decides to join you, you don’t know why, he always joined you home. 

So you make your way home, the street lamps slowly flickering to life. And what else are you doing but pestering him? 

“Man, you’re really whipped for her, aren’tya? Getting really bad at this point, ugh,” you act as if you’re gagging, until he slightly shoves you aside, hand in neck, skin pink under the dim light. 

“Hm, do you think she would accept if I ask her out?” he asks instead of denying it, because for how long you two had known each other, he would wonder more about why you wouldn’t know about his feelings. You always have been good at reading him. 

You hum, acting as if you’re deep in thought, even though you knew her response very well. But you wouldn’t tell him, that’s a secret you got, and who are you to share it? “Well, who would want to go out with you,” you finally answer in jest, not able to stop your shit-eating grin from emerging at his pout, before avoiding another shove. 

And you try to avoid the thumping inside of your head. I would. I would. I would

“Hey, I’m being serious here!”

“Me too! You eat like a little kid! No one wants a person who eats with their cheeks.” You stick your tongue out and giggle at him feeling his face, looking for the nonexistent food there. 

Upon realizing you’re making fun of him again, he stops and groans in frustration, only for a grin to spread over his face as he suddenly pounces on you, hands on your ribs, luring screams and laughs out of you. And you immediately start running away, trying to get him to stop tickling you. 

“Fine! Fine! Stop! Please, I will tell you what you wanna hear!” you beg as he has you locked between his armsl, torturing you with his nimble fingers, as you try to kick and shove him away. 

Immediately releasing you, he asks: “Yeah? Tell me how awesome I am!” A cheeky grin sits on his face, illuminated by the moon. 

And you only sneer at his request, just staring at him with disgust until he relents. 

“Okay, okay. Just… Tell me if it would work out?”

You sigh, clearing your throat, your breath tighter than it’s supposed to be, than you’re used to after such a small exercise. And you curse this random sickness. 

“Well, I think it wouldn’t hurt to try, yeah?” you rasp, throat suddenly feeling clogged, but you manage to swallow just fine, getting your voice back. “Trust me, just do it.”

He brightens up at your response and it feels like you stepped into the sun, blinking and squinting. You gag and continue your walk home, which surprisingly doesn’t take much longer anymore. 

At the door he wraps his arms around you, a goodbye hug, like always, like your bodies are used to. But this time it doesn’t feel like every last time you hugged him. Your heart is working overtime, screaming at you, and you hope he can’t hear the choir of confessions. And he doesn’t, as he breaks the hug with a bright grin and a goodbye, before going his merry way. 

And you stand in front of the door, trying to dilute these words into your veins, trying to push them out with every breath of yours, every hurting breath, every tickling, wheezing cough.

[clockwise-works]

So this is a concept of an TotK AoC follow up, which was inspired and somewhat building off the idea of this post by @skyloftian-nutcase, only DELUXE edition! There's not much dialogue at all, and is more so the broad strokes of things.

EDIT: Like half of my tags just... DIDN'T save, I guess? I'll try to see If I can re edit them in

Dearest Mipha,

As we reach the ten year anniversary of Calamity Ganon's defeat next week, I write to you out of worry. The illness Purah refers to as "Gloom" has seemingly only gotten worse in the last few months. Many of the knights, both trainees and royal guards, have become unresponsive, Castle Town itself seeming more and more like a ghost town as of late. The additional aid from the Zora and Gerudo platoons have helped immensely, but we worry this illness will soon spread to the rest of Hyrule.

I tell you this in confidence and with direct permission from Queen Zelda that King Regnant Rhoam has most certainly fallen ill as well. He appears to be in good spirit and health, but the initial symptoms appear to be present. With the estimates of the previous patients, Doctor Purah estimates he has a few months left to hopefully treat this illness, whatever it is.

We have determined that this "Gloom" is originating from beneath Hyrule Castle itself, with traces seemingly traveling through the sewer systems to Castle Town. By the time you are reading this, Zelda, Impa, Terrako, and I will journey beneath the castle to hopefully uncover the root cause of this tomorrow, and with that, develop some sort of counter measure. Unfortunately, this means I will be staying the night here once again to limit any potential contamination. I am truly sorry and miss you and everyone else dearly. This should all be over soon.

With love,

Link

____________________________________________________

Link awakes, deep within some mysterious cavern. The room was dark, lined with pulsing green trails and markings upon the walls. With a deep breath he attempts to pick himself up, faltering in the process. Wha- what happened? Looking over his body for any ailments, Link's eyes freeze where his right arm is... No.

Where his right arm was.

His eyes widened in surprise, a million thoughts and questions running through his mind as rapid as a raging river. What happened to his arm?!?! Where was he?! How did he get here? Wha- ...what happened to Zelda and Impa?

Sitting there for a moment to call his nerves, Link closed his eyes, attempted to run through his memories. The last thing he recalled... the four of them were descending down beneath Hyrule Castle. They had discovered some sort of mural depicting a war... the Imprisoning War, as Zelda called it, before continuing further down the caverns.

Unable to recall anything beyond that point, he slowly reopened his eyes, hesitating but ultimately staring at his missing arm. Looking over where it seems to have been removed, Link determined that whatever... whoever did this had done a rather decent job, properly amputated with minimal room for tears.

As he slowly got himself up, a nearby door he had missed in the frenzy slid open, sunlight pouring in, blinding him momentarily. Through the haze were two figures, their forms... odd, to say the least.

As his eyes settled the figures approached, Link tensing up in response, only to be caught off guard by what he was seeing. These two were no living being he was familiar with, no, they looked closer to the Sheikah made Guardians than anything else. Only smaller and blocky, with green and orange-ish hues comprising their bodies. What had he gotten himself into?

______________________________________________________________

It took some time, but thankfully with the help of the two figures, the Constructs, as he had been told by them, most of his questions had been answered.

The Great Sky Island, high in the sky above Central Hyrule and home to a large settlement of these Constructs, was where Link found himself. It... it was a beautiful land, no doubt about it, but even more fascinating was the implementation of this mysterious technology all throughout the island. It was described to him as Zonai made, a name he was sure he had heard of in passing before, something to do with the Faroh Woods, but that was all he could recall. No, what fascinated him was the perfect harmony between nature and machine, a stark contrast to the scattered Sheikah tech remains across Hyrule.

While they weren't sure how Link had appeared, they were the ones to find him in his current condition and determine he needed their aid, placing him in their healing chamber. His arm, having been "damaged beyond repair" and inflicted with a deteriorating condition, was removed by them to ensure his safety and survivability, using this "Zonai Tech" to speed up his recovery time. The ailment that inflicted his arm... it sounded a lot like the Gloom and its effects other have experienced, Link thought. If whatever or whoever did that to him, what could have possibly even happened?

Everything else was still a mystery. Where his allies were and why his memories leading up to all of this had seemingly been erased, as well as a new question arising. How was he meant to get down?

At least, it was a question for only a matter of seconds. One of the constructs to first find Link went on to inform him that during his recovery time, they had begun to construct him a replacement prosthetic but had run into some troubles before his awakening.

Across the island there are four Zonai workshops, each one tasked with constructing a portion of Link's arm, using the Zonai technology to "imbue it with new and powerful magic." When asked why even do this, all the Constructs tell him is they were commanded to do this, not answering who it was that had told them this. Great. Another question.

But all of Link's questions could wait. As described to him, the four workshops have faced recent attacks from monsters, something the Constructs haven't experienced in ages and has as a result slowed their process. Provided with a rusted sword from the Constructs, Link sets off to begin his journey.

______________________________________________________________

Commentary Notes 1 time! So there were a few changes, and I'm going to go through some of them and my reasoning behind said changes. I ultimately decided to place the awakening of Ganondorf around 10 years after Calamity Ganon's defeat for a few good reason. For one, I wanted to give a good amount of time in-between these two events to allow the characters a good decade to grow and change. This also ties into the original premise as brought up by Skyloftian, who concepted this as a father/son TotK story set after AoC with a Miphlink child, so for this child to be old enough to walk/talk/be somewhat independant, I pushed Ganondorf's awakening further back. Sure, there's not much of an in universe reason as of now for WHY it took longer in this timeline, but a good amount of changes occurred in this timeline already, So we could chalk this up to CG not being trapped for 100 years in Hyrule Castle in this continuity.

Another change was the overall beginning of The Great Sky Island. Especially with Link not getting Rauru's arm but instead a Zonai made prosthetic. While the main functionality of the arm is the same as TotK, I kinda prompted this changed idea because I'm not certain if I would include Rauru in this AU to the degree he's used in TotK. Instead, I wanted to play with a different idea. It's SONIA who's been looking out for him, her spirit perhaps trapped similarly to the Champions in BotW, using her latent time powers to use her ghost to save Link and appear in different places in time. I'm still not certain on HOW she would appear, but I think it would be interesting if she was perhaps tethered to Link after his initial confrontation with Ganondorf. Perhaps fragments of her soul were trapped within her stone when Ganondorf killed her and took it, and when using the stone against Link it latched those fragments to him. Idk just an idea for now. If it doesn't play out that way then it can be reverted to Rauru's arm and dropping this Sonia angle.

Another part of the change was to go about how Link acquired his Zonai abilities. In TotK, the arm and the abilities serve as the Sheikah Slate and Runes respectively, which worked really well for BotW, in how it taught you how to use each ability. For this AoC sequel concept, I adjusted this section to better fit a theme of TotK: Community. Instead of Link getting the arm by Rauru and doing it all himself, I thought it would be neat if the Great Sky Island was home to a village of friendly constructs, who took Link in their care and healed him. Link is only able to get this new arm and chance to save Hyrule through the aid of others. I also imagine this serving as a interesting tutorial battle segment similar to AoC missions, where Link must go to 4 points on the map, clear out a stronghold, and in return acquire a new ability and more of his arm. He would start out limited, only able to swing a sword with his non dominant hand, with each cleared stronghold unlocking more moves to learn (shield, bow and arrows, flurry rush, etc). Somewhat similar to the opening battle of AoC and when Link gets Terrako and the Runes.

One last change was Link's memories. I ultimately wrote Link losing those memories of Ganondorf's awakening to better build up his reveal, to build him up as this mysterious and downright dangerous threat. In TotK Link watches as Zelda disappears, this weird Demon King that knows him awakes and raises Hyrule Castle, and nearly kills him. This does lead to some... critiques of TotK and how it feels as if the game acts like Link and everyone are too foolish to figure out what's going on, what with the Puppet Zelda and especially if you did the tears first. So instead, Link doesn't remember Ganondorf. He doesn't remember what happened to Zelda, Impa, and Terrako, so if something weird happens with maybe a random Zelda appearance, it only leaves more questions.

______________________________________________________________

It took some time and effort, but he had done it. The Constructs were safe, and in return he had acquired this new arm. And my, what an arm it truly was. It almost felt natural to him, only taking Link seconds to adjust to the prosthetic, admiring the handy work. But only for a moment. There were questions to be answered, people to be helped, and he had to find his family. They must be worried sick, he figured.

With the arm completed, Link meets back up with the Constructs that first aided him in the Sky Temple of Time, looking for any ideas of a direction to go next. Determining he is ready, the Constructs inform Link that he has been in their care unconscious for three months. Panic overpowers Link, but before he can ask, they state that they waited to tell him this until now to give him time to adjust and steady himself. It... he hated to admit it, but it did work. But still, three months? He couldn't even bring himself to think how this had affected Mipha and Rus (temp name for their kid).

This was all he needed to hear. Thanking the Constructs, Link turns to leave and find a way off the island, only to be stopped by the Constructs. They tell him they have one last thing to gift him, as thanks for aiding them against the unsuspecting monster attacks. Before he can respond that he didn't need a reward, a somewhat larger construct swoops down to where they were, landing right next to the others.

This construct... it was different. Unlike the others this one was a lot more... animalistic, looking almost... almost like a large bird. And Link's assertion happens to be correct, as the Constructs tell him that this is an ancient Construct Companion, made in the image of an ancient race of companion birds that once lived alongside the Hylians that came before them. Before Link could question the implication that Hylians once lived upon the Sky Island, the bird hops over to him, stopping in front of him before turning into a green particle energy similar to that of the blue Sheikah tech. In a moment the particles shoot into his arm, the Constructs explaining that the Companion has chosen Link as it's rider, turning itself into energy and storing itself in his arm to be called upon when needed. With this the Constructs dismiss him, wishing him a safe descent and success in whatever it is he needs to do.

Link makes it to the end of the temple, locating what he speculates is a diving point ancient Hylians used to call upon their Companions. Determining that there happens to be a pond below him, he rationalizes that if all else fails he can dive into the pond, should it come to that.

Taking a running start, he dives. The feeling... it's incredible. The open and strong wind on his face, the adrenalin, he... hadn't felt this in a long time. He knew he would never trade his life, nor is he making light of this situation, but years of continued back and forth between the Domain and Hyrule Castle had definitely been a stark contrast to his life beforehand.

Allowing himself to enjoy the dive for only a moment longer, Link stretches his arm out before himself, tapping it in different spots to summon his Companion. It takes a few tries, but eventually the Companion responds to his call, forming below him and gliding them down to the surface. They would be landing near New Castle Town, Link figured, and hopefully he could find someone, ANYONE, who could give him a rundown of the situation at hand.

But as the two got closer, he just couldn't help but notice the dark smoke coming from the town...

______________________________________________________________

Commentary Note 2! So this segment was relatively shorter, but there is one thing I want to address. The Companion. So yes, the Companion is a very clear callback to the Loftwings, and honestly I'm shocked there wasn't some sort of callback to them in TotK in the first place! Like, they let us make a hover bike, just cut the middleman and give us a Loftwing or hey, a Zonai made one, that lets us fly around before needing to recharge! It was right there! You could even have collectable paint job schematics that let you change its color palette!

...That aside, I decided this is one of the Zonai changes that helps the narrative of this concept. I haven't fully mapped out how SS would fit into this, as I haven't played much of the game, but considering that both SS and TotK attempt to offer a story on the founding of Hyrule, I think it works best to adjust TotK's story to work around SS. And with it, the Zonai Loftwing being made in image of the originals, placing the Zonai AFTER the events of SS.

As for the bird itself, I think it fits as the equivalent to Terrako, where Link has a little buddy that follows him around. In a gameplay sense I imagine battlefields would have two layers to them, and the Companion would allow you to switch between layers and perform combos. However, since this is just a story concept, I envision this as a more convenient way for Link and eventually Rus to scale the Sky Islands. Sure, this means Link ends up with Rus, the occasional appearance of Sonia's spirit, and a Zonai Loftwing, but hey, AoC had multiple people for each mission as well. Oh well.

I think for now I'm going to end the narrative writing here, with the bare essentials of the rest of the original post jotted below for memory. This was getting rather long, and was the heftiest change to the original idea, said idea kinda just skimming over this portion. The last thing I want to addresss, when it comes to Impa and Zelda, I'm thinking of breaking each one up into three different campaigns in a sense. This is just a stray idea, but maybe each one represents some concept of time and history, like Link representing the present, Zelda the future, and Impa the present (which any one of these can be changed, just an idea).

______________________________________________________________

[ So the rest of the original idea was Link landing in New Castle Town and seeing everything has gone awry. The town is in flames and all citizens are seemingly missing, replaced with hundreds of monsters like Redeads and Moblins. What was once the rebuilt New Castle Town is now the Demon's Dominion, in which Ganondorf has stationed the monsters there as a buffer between him and the rest of Hyrule, preventing Link from storming the castle.

So Link retreats to the nearest settlement hoping to get aid and find his family. To Zora's Domain. It isn't an easy journey, as Ganondorf has seemingly undone all their work cleaning up the Calamity's mess, re-stationing monsters all across the land to slow his journey. Initially he thinks he can fly to the Domain, but quickly learns that he and Companion will be shot down by the newer flying monsters.

Eventually they arrive at the Domain, but the once brilliant shimmering blue kingdom is now in disarray. The place is coated in a strange and dense muck substance, with multiple Zoras laying sprawled out and unresponsive and what few nurse Zoras they have tending to the injured.

Soldiers run in and out of the Domain, rapidly exchanging shifts. Link overhears talk of preventing further monster onslaughts from breaching the Domain, leading him to believe the Domain is on the brink of collapse. He attempts to ask what's happening but is met with distrust and accusations of causing all of this, many Zora turning away from and and some knights getting aggressive.

Left confused, Link seeks out Bazz, figuring if anyone would tell him what's going on, it'd be him. Eventually he does find Bazz, who seemingly has risen a rank or two in Link's absence, most likely in response to this disaster. Link asks his questions, and while Bazz initially attempts to remain neutral, he waits for when nearby guards are gone to break rank and get Link up to speed.

He informs Link that a lot of Zoras have been lead to believe Link had begun this assault, although the exact details are unclear, even to him. Before Link can attempt to plead his case, Bazz reassures Link that he knows this isn't true and that he can find King Dorephan in the secure royal hideaway.

Eventually Link determines where this hideaway is, uncovering the king... only to see he's in bad health himself, being tended to and monitored by multiple Zora. The same muck as before is all over him, clearly impacting his breathing and mobility. The Zoras hear Link's arrival, the elders moving to intercept Link before Dorephan awakes.

Dorephan informs Link that when he went missing three months ago a dark figure that looked like him attacked the King. Luckily Sidon was still at Yona's Domain visiting her when this occurred, and has remained there in response to the Domain's struggles. (That's right Dark Link's a part of this! He replaces Puppet Zelda so far, going around and working against our heroes and trying to keep them weakened. This is so now there's an aura of doubt surrounding Link during his travels)

Ever since then the King has been here in hopes of recovering, all the while Mipha runs the kingdom and the soldiers fight back against the growing monster attacks. It's... it's a bad situation, overall.

Link then asks of where Rus is, worried for his boy's safety. Dorephan falters in response, rationalizing that the boy must've snuck off. He explains that Mipha has Rus remain with the King while she is off protecting the Domain, but Rus occasionally grows to miss her and sneaks off to find her, being brought back each time. With this Link goes to find Mipha and Rus, to see his family before Dorephan stops him.

Dorephan looks upon his now son-in-law, the same boy he's watched grow up, and reassures Link he knows it wasn't Link that attacked him, and is confident Link will save their family and Hyrule. It... it's nice to hear, giving Link reassurance that not everything is lost.

So he leaves, making his way to where the muck seems to be originating from, Ploymus Mountain. It's a tough climb, especially with his heavily damaged Zora Armor, which thankfully the Constructs thought to preserve for him, but eventually he makes it. The sight is... certainly something.

A large and dense onslaught of muck is pouring from the heavens, pooling at the top of Ploymus Mountain and threatening to travel down into the Domain and reservoir, potentially polluting all of Hyrule's water. At the center of this is Mipha, who is seemingly using her Water and Healing Magic to clean the muck and prevent it from traveling further.

As he approaches Mipha spots him, overcome with immense hope and joy at seeing him again, moving to embrace him before stopping immediately. It catches Link off guard, but only for a moment, as he quickly rationalizes that if she stops then the Domain is certainly doomed. So he moves to her instead, stopping just short to not distract her further.

It takes them a moment to regain their bearings, Mipha taking a deep breath and attempting to explain what has been going on. Around when Link went missing, monsters arose all over the land, and massive earthquakes shook everything up. Shortly afterwards mysterious Sky Islands appeared in the sky, with the muck falling immediately. When asked why no one else has aided them, she explains that the other tribes are facing disaster as well, the last letter from the Rito Emergency Mailing System having to suspend their efforts to help with the growing storms and low rations.

She then details how some figure had attacked her father, and the guards present were certain it was Link, even Dorephan himself unable to deny the uncanny likeness. In response this has spiraled into a tale of Link betraying the Zoras and using Mipha to get closer to the throne, hoping to topple their kingdom. She tells him she never once believed these accusations, and only prayed everyday for his safety and eventual return.

In the meantime she's been handling running the Domain, spending most her time cleaning the water, and once her magic drains she focuses on directing support troops and reassuring their victory. Link then attempts to explain what happened to him, but struggles with the blank spots in his memory. These blank spots... with the knowledge of this figure that looks like him, it couldn't be him... could it...

Cutting his worry off, Link hears a nearby cry, a cry of excitement, one that he instantly recognizes. Him and Mipha's heads shoot over in the direction of the voice, spotting Rus running over to them. The young boy, overcome with excitement at seeing his father, immediately jumps into his father's arms, Link catching him in response. Reunited. Finally.

The happy moment doesn't last long, unfortunately, as something begins to form from the muck. Catching them off guard, the monster shoots a strong muck projectile at them, Link, quickly hands Rus to Mipha and tosses himself in front to shield them. Only for the attack to never connect.

Opening his eyes he finds a shield surrounding the, but not the one of radiant oranges from Daruk's shield, but rather the shimmering blue of water. Water magic.

He turns, expecting to see Mipha casting a shield around them, but instead finds Rus with outstretched arms, said arms shaking as the shield falters. Link... he's never seen Rus do this! His boy can perform magic! ...Just how much has he truly missed in his absence?

He isn't given much time to ponder, as the monster fully forms and grows in size, threatening to spread the muck in spite of Mipha's efforts. Luckily, Bazz, Gaddisson, and the recently promoted Rivan arrive with a small platoon of soliders, offering aid in the coming fight. They tell Link and Mipha to focus on the monster while they control the muck.

After that I'm not so sure how the rest would play out. I think the Water Temple plays out relatively the same, but perhaps the Brigade goes with them, since AoC always has multiple soldiers on the battlefield. Once Mipha acquires the Secret Stone of Water, she uses it to clean the Domain and the inflicted Zoras, including her father.

Mipha decides it is best for her to remain in the Domain to strengthen their forces for the coming battle, while Link determines it's best to go out and aid the other Champions to grow their numbers. It's a struggle to leave, as he has only just reunited with his family, but both he and Mipha understand this is what their lives call for.

That's what made it even harder thought, as Rus didn't understand this yet. Link attempts to explain this to him, but it falls on deaf ears as Rus pleads for him to not leave them again. How... how could he possibly leave. Sure, it's for the best, but that face...

Dorephan suggests that perhaps Rus could travel with Link for the time being. Link is utterly against this, until Dorephan rationalizes that the Domain still isn't safe, and at any moment another attack could be upon them. The King tells Link that he is by far the most competent warriors he's seen (besides his daughter), and believes Rus would be safest under Link's care.

So we get a father/son journey across Hyrule, uncovering the mysteries of the Zonai Age, the Imprisoning War, and the locations of their lost allies. A journey in which Rus learns to have faith in his skills and capabilities, in which he learns how to thrive given his hearing disability and how to find connections with others in spite of his "one of a kindness." There are no other half/half residents in Hyrule, in which Rus perhaps feels like an outsider to his own people, and makes strong bonds and friendships that go beneath appearance.

A journey in which Link learns to put his trust in his son and recognize that his boy is growing up, that he's becoming his own person. At this point, Link is stressed. Everything's gone to hell, and he's trying to rush things to save everything they fought desperately for. But in that, Link is ignoring the smaller problems. He needs to focus on the bigger issues, less Hyrule falls. But he learns from Rus, a lesson he himself and Mipha taught Russ, to always help people. That there is no greater strength than from those we help and care for. To always find the beauty in life wherever it may be.

Also I'm thinking about half way through, Link and Russ run into Impa and Abel, and the teams switch up a little. Impa takes off with the Champions to aid the Yiga, while Abel sticks with Link and Rus as they make their way to the 5th temple. Basically for a while we get a three generational team, with Abel getting to experience his son's journeys and watch his grandson's growth.

[maxineholtzmann]

just fall in love with me (this Christmas) - complete on ao3

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hallmark AU, References to Sexual Content but this fic is not explicit, Misunderstandings, Healthy Communication, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Platonic Soulmates Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson, Hawkins is a Christmas Town, Christmas Store Owner Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley's Parents Are Dead, Car Crash Discussions, Parent Death Discussion, Mild Angst, Happy Ending, Christmas Parade, Background Steddie

Word Count: 7,102

Chapters: 1/1

Snippet:

Robin woke up naked–which was not completely unusual but it was unusual for it to happen in a stranger’s bed in Hawkins, Indiana. She stretched out her arms and legs, the bed empty but still warm–clearly whoever she was had only just got up. What was her name? They’d had a lot to drink the night before and Robin was a bit fuzzy on the details other than that the woman was probably the most beautiful woman Robin had ever seen and her name was something with a “K” maybe. Kristine? Keri?

Robin sat up, her head swimming. Going out last night had been a mistake. She had to meet Steve and Eddie in– oh shit. Robin looked at the clock. It read 8:30 am. She had less than an hour to meet Steve and Eddie at her parents’ house and she had no idea how far away from it she was.

She started searching the room for her clothes. They had had some very enthusiastic sex the night before which had apparently involved her bra ending up on the other side of the room from her shirt. She was unfortunately not able to find her panties, so she was going to have to just put her jeans on sans underwear– yikes –and hope for the best. Maybe that was her punishment for being a horny idiot in her hometown at Christmas.

She pulled on her socks, hopping on one foot as she opened the bedroom door to see the woman from the night before running around her apartment in sweats and a tank top, clearly panic-cleaning.

“Oh good, there you are. I’m so sorry to do this and I swear I’m not usually like this but you have to go. Like, now,” the woman said, her strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun,blue  eyes wide in panic. She had hickeys all over her neck, courtesy of Robin.

“That’s totally fine, I actually am late to meet someone. Have you seen my jacket?” Robin asked, casting her eyes around the living room of the small apartment.

“Yes, here,” the woman said, thrusting Robin’s jacket, bag, and shoes into her hands and subtly pushing her towards the door of the apartment. “Again, so sorry but I have friends coming over in like, an hour, and this place is a mess and I’m a mess and I had a great time last night uh…”

“Robin,” Robin supplied.

“Right, of course. Robin. So fun, so great to meet you, great sex, thanks for the orgasms, et cetera,” the woman said as she opened the front door of her apartment, depositing Robin in the hallway.

“Right, uh–” Robin said, standing in the hallway, shocked at how efficiently she had been ushered out of this woman’s apartment.

“I hope you have a Merry Christmas!” the woman said, smiling brightly as she shut the door in Robin’s face. Robin heard the lock click as she stared at the wreath on the door.

read the rest here

written for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge! Prompt was: "All the movies make this look so much easier."

[postalninja]

Fic Author Q&A

Tagged by @cicaklah - thanks babe! (sorry if my answers end up vague or unsatisfying, it's past midnight and i would be in bed if there wasn't a music festival currently happening outside my window - I"m not exactly at my best lol)

1. Why do you write fanfic?

It started from the desire to make fictional characters kiss, which is still a large part of why I do it, so let's go with that.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

I don't really know - I tend to think about a lot of my stories pretty often after they're finished, I'm not sure that there is a specific one I fixate on. They all get a bit of time in my brain, and i tend to go and re-read stuff too.

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

S l o w d o w n. Don't be afraid of big word counts, it'll take as many words as it takes, and rushing toward the finish line will just make the pacing suffer. Make room for the moments in between, let the story breathe.

4. What’s your relationship to fic stats?

Lately I've found that not looking at them in too much detail is better. Over the summer I found myself looking at my stats for validation, and of course, not finding it there. But the problem is in my head, not on the stats page. So they are just numbers that are there, and if I need to check something specific, then that's a useful thing to have.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

I've really fallen off of writing for Hitman over the past couple of years, with only one short ficlet as a recent offering. It's one of the fandoms were my muse has been fleeting, but the fandom is so wonderful that I miss being a more active participant in it.

6. What motivates you to write?

Lately I have a pretty hard time writing without having clear inspiration, so that's the most surefire motivation is just being struck by an idea that grabs me and won't let go until I get it down on the page. But that sort of inspiration is hard to come by, so I haven't been writing very much in its absence.

7. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

In most cases it's because I have a ship I'm obsessed with, and if not that than just general love for the game (it's almost always a game, let's not kid ourselves) and the characters. It's hard for me to write for a fandom unless I'm at least a little bit unhealthily obsessed with it.

8. If you’re stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

Normally I will take a break, and some of those breaks have turned out longer than others... I have a few unfinished wips that are an albatross around my neck, and I'm not sure how to go about finishing them.

9. What do you wish people knew about comments?

They are all an author wants! We want to hear about what you liked and why, and given the chance we would talk your ear off about our fics, so don't ever feel like you're bothering an author by commenting something nice on their fic, we are looking for that engagement and validation.

10. Maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. What’s that question (and answer)?

What's something you've been excited about/feeling good about recently with your writing? One thing I will mention is that a few days ago I went back and read a bunch of free writing exercises I did for a class last semester that i hadn't looked at since - I had completely forgotten about most of them, but when I read them again the majority of them were so good! It kind of bolstered my confidence that I had that kind of quality output from 10-minute warmups where I wasn't thinking too hard. Like, even though I haven't written much lately, I still know how to write!!

Not tagging anyone specific, just whoever want to do it because I am too tired to think and decide :)

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Bonus: The Siblings, Partners

I AM DOOOOOONE.

First of all: Sorry that it's late. This was supposed to be a special for Cloudia's 151st death day after all. Actually, this bonus was done on July 13, but I didn't have time to revise it because I had to go somewhere. In the end, even if I had taken my laptop with me, I wouldn't have been able to finish this on time because the revision took WAY longer than anticipated. That's why I am two days late.

But, nevertheless, I am done now - and I hope you'll enjoy this one-shot which got far too long.

“Everyone grieved differently.”

Countryside, England, United Kingdom – August 1866

  The manor felt empty.

That’s what he thought every morning right after waking up. That’s what he thought while walking through the corridors and when he went to sleep at night.

The thought was with him every second of the day.

It planted sadness in his heart, made his limbs tired, caused him to lean against a wall and just stare ahead.

Vincent Phantomhive had not cried when he had found out. Had not cried when they had been buried or when he had walked towards the Queen on his decoration day.

The tears did not come when they ate alone or walked through the manor void of joy – and he wondered if he had always been so cold.

  The probability that such a tragedy could happen – the death of one parent, and, shortly afterwards, the death of the other – was so small. How could it have happened to us? Why had it had to happen to us?

  “Young Master?”

Vincent blinked and turned around to the source of the voice. He had not even noticed that he had drifted away again.

“Yes, Tanaka?”

Tanaka Warashi was the Phantomhive family’s head butler. Vincent’s mother Cloudia had employed him after he had come all the way to England from Japan to steal something from her. He had challenged her to a sword duel and had lost – and because Vincent’s parents had needed a butler at that time, they had hired him. Tanaka had accepted his faith as Cloudia had impressed him and as he had been rather thankful not to have to be a thief anymore.

“Mr Redbird has arrived, and he as well as Lady Francis is waiting in the drawing room right now,” Tanaka informed Vincent who nodded at his words and followed him.

  At the beginning of August, I had been officially made the “Earl of Phantomhive” and Her Majesty the Queen’s Watchdog. One week ago, I had received my first task with an apology as it had come rather soon and we were still mourning. Redbird would inform me about the details of said task as he, an officer of Scotland Yard, had been concerned with said task before it had become a Watchdog matter.

Tanaka had told me that it would be fine if I declined – the time wasn’t the best, and the Queen would understand. Francis had been thinking the same but hadn’t wanted to voice it.

I had still accepted the task. I knew that Tanaka was right – that it wouldn’t have harmed my new status, wouldn’t have tainted the Queen’s favour, but I needed the distraction.

  ***

  Vincent followed Tanaka to the drawing room whose door was opened by one other servant. Just like the rest of the small household, they were still in mourning clothes. And they would be for another eleven months.

  Eleven months of continued blackness. And afterwards, nothing would return to its old colour.

  Francis sat at a small round table in the middle of the parlour. With her was a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. He was wearing long clothes matching his hair and eye colour even though it was summer. A summer in England didn’t mean much – there was always rain; you couldn’t escape the rain –, but, even in England, the temperatures could reach rather high numbers during the summer. Today was one of those hot days.

  If he was mocking us with his attire, he would be out of the Phantomhive premises faster than a star could fall.

  The two servants who had been standing in the corners of the drawing room bowed at Vincent when he entered before leaving and closing the door behind them. Now, only the man, the siblings, and Tanaka were in the room.

The man stood up from his seat and bowed. “Ruadh-Éan Redbird – it is such a pleasure to be able to meet you, Earl of Phantomhive; and I offer you my condolences for the sudden and early passing of your parents.” While he spoke, he gestured a lot with his hands, and Vincent could see something metallic shimmering on the ring finger of his right hand.

“I am also pleased to meet you, Mr Redbird,” Vincent said, sitting down. “I apologise for my tardiness. I forgot the time.”

Redbird sat back down. “You do not have to apologise, Mylord. You are a busy man, and it is an honour that you agreed to give me some of your precious time. Besides, it was a pleasure to converse with your dear sister for a while.”

Vincent gazed at Francis – and the look in her eyes told him that their conversation had not been as much of a pleasure to her as it had been to him.

“Speaking of Lady Phantomhive,” Redbird continued to speak. “I do not want to sound rude but should she not leave the room? What we have to discuss is certainly not suitable for the ears of a young lady, Mylord.”

If Francis wasn’t the epitome of self-control, she would have scowled and yelled. Vincent, however, had never been as dignified as his sister.

  Lately, I was tired all the time, but I would gladly wake up for that.

  “My sister has won countless fencing tournaments,” Vincent said, a shadow in his eyes. “As the only girl, she faced many boys and men – and never came off second best. And even though the probability that she would ever become the Watchdog was almost non-existent, she learned alongside me. My sister may be a lady, but she is certainly not a fragile daisy, and I don’t have to speak for her – she has an own voice which she can use. It is just that she doesn’t want to be a bad host and brag and talk you to the ground. I will never be as much of a good person as her – if I find the opportunity to brag about Francis, I will – because she is wonderful. If I have to talk someone to the ground, I will talk this person to Earth’s core. Do you want me to talk you to the ground, Mr Redbird?”

Redbird swallowed. “No, Mylord.”

“Then, Francis will stay – and if you treat her as less than she is again, I will not be friendly anymore, Mr Redbird. Personally, I would chase you out of the manor and this forest and let the chair be burned on which you are sitting. No – not the chair. The chair is innocent. I would chase you, and if I found you, I would burn you.”

He slowly nodded, having lost all colour from his face, but he couldn’t hide the disgust in his eyes.

  Mother would have hated him. Father was not a person to hate a lot of people, but he would have hated Redbird.

And I hated him too. I hated and despised him.

  Vincent smiled. “If that’s settled, then we can finally come to business.”

  ***

  “You came to us because you assume that Brent Reservoir is haunted?” Francis said sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

“I am not assuming it,” Redbird replied, “I am certain of it.”

The Brent Reservoir was a reservoir between the London Boroughs of Barnet and Brent. Its construction had been planned since 1803, but because of various obstacles, it couldn’t be completed before 1835. Afterwards, the reservoir had to struggle with even more difficulties.

Among the common folk, the reservoir was known as “Welsh Harp” after the Old Welsh Harp Tavern which was located in Edgware Road near Brent. Said tavern was the primary reason why the reservoir had become a place of evening entertainment in the first place despite the fact that only a couple of months before its completion and during its first years, many people had drowned in it.

“I am sure that we all know what occurred at Brent Reservoir,” Vincent interjected, propping his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers. “And I don’t want to sound unprofessional, and I don’t mean to ridicule you, but I think the same as my sister. There are no such things as ghosts. There are no such things as demons or Grim Reapers either.”

“I know that it sounds unbelievable,” Redbird admitted, “but what am I saying is true. The area around Welsh Harp was always very lively but since a few weeks, the Old Welsh Harp Tavern is closed, and no one can be seen around it. The inhabitants of Brent and Barnet are collectively avoiding the reservoir. I was confused by that sudden development and began to ask those who live close to Welsh Harp about it. It took me a while until I found someone who was willing to speak. He entrusted me that the reservoir was haunted by no other ghosts than the ones of the four Sidebottom brothers. Due to Welsh Harp’s former popularity, the Queen is concerned about this development.”

“August 1835,” Francis said, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Four brothers, the eldest being thirty-one and the younger three aged between eleven and seventeen years old, entered the construction area of Brent Reservoir to bath. The eldest watched over his siblings and died himself when he tried to save them when they had been about to drown. It isn’t known how exactly it had come to this tragedy – neither the reason for the brothers to bath at a construction area nor the reason why it had come to the drowning accident had ever been found out.” She looked at Redbird, her green eyes sharp. “Eight years ago, in 1858, a man called W.P. Warner became the owner of the Old Welsh Harp Tavern, and the reservoir rapidly became more and more popular. Do you intend to say that the ghosts of these four brothers returned because their ‘last resting place’ was constantly disturbed? But why only now? Eight years have already passed – why would they come back only now? Why would they come back at all? They had been buried in their home, Mount Pleasant, after all.”

“I asked myself the same questions,” Redbird claimed. Ever since Vincent had threatened him earlier, Redbird paid more attention to Francis. He still didn’t like him, but, at least, he didn’t avoid her gaze anymore. “I couldn’t find out anything about it though.”

“The man or the boy,” Vincent started, “the one who told you about the ghosts – what is his name? Where can we find him? It would be helpful to speak with him again. He could know more than he said to you. It is always better to press people to make sure that they didn’t withhold something from you.”

“And perhaps he knows more persons who have seen the ghost and who would be willing to speak to us,” Francis added.

Redbird smiled. “In fact, I have arranged a meeting with Mr Paul Heffer at Welsh Harp. I couldn’t bring him with me as it would have been rude because I had missed announcing his presence beforehand.”

  I did not like this man. But, he was able to use his brain. At least, a little bit.

Also, the name “Paul Heffer” sounded rather familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember where I had heard it before. But, of course, just because this name seemed familiar didn’t mean that it was the same person. After all, there were definitely more people named “Paul Heffer” in the world.

  Vincent clapped his hands together and smiled. “Very well. It is a long way to Brent, so it would be better if we left right now.” He stood up and looked at Tanaka. “Tanaka, would you be so kind and prepare the carriage?”

  When Franny and I had been very young, we had a lot of different servants. But, nowadays, we only had Tanaka, a cook, a footman, a gardener, and two maids. At some point, Mother and Father had dismissed rows of servants and had only hired replacements for a few of them. Franny and I had been sad about this change, but, at least, our parents had kept Tanaka. Until now, I wondered why they had done that.

And now, I would never find out.

  Tanaka bowed before leaving the room, and Vincent walked around the table and playfully offered Francis his arm. She scowled at him, but still linked arms, and Redbird followed them into the corridor.

“I hope you understand, Mr Redbird,” Vincent said, “that, rationally thinking, that it is very likely that what Mr Heffer and, maybe, other people saw was nothing more than a fever dream caused by too much alcohol or drugs. After all, Brent Reservoir is a gathering place of those frequenting Old Welsh Harps Tavern – it is the Eldorado of Dionysus’ favourites.”

Francis rolled her eyes when Redbird didn’t look into her direction but focused his eyes on the paintings and other decorative articles in the corridor.

“You know that Dionysus isn’t the drunkard most people believe him to be – in fact, his teacher, Silenus, was the drunkard. Not him,” Francis replied. “Silenus is the god of drunkenness after all. Dionysus, however, is the god of wine, grape harvest, religious ecstasy, fertility, and theatre among other things.

“And I have to add that the metaphor you have used, Vincent, is more fitting than you might have thought when it had come to your mind: The cult of Dionysus is also called the ‘Cult of Souls’ as Dionysus possesses the ability to communicate between the living and the dead. And if what Heffer and Redbird say is true, Brent Reservoir is a place where the dead and the living are colliding.”

Vincent smiled at Redbird. “Didn’t I say she’s brilliant?”

His guest slowly nodded before he looked at Francis. “This reminds me, Mylady, that ever since the Earl mentioned your talent in fencing that I wanted to go further into this topic, but didn’t get the opportunity to do so. So, I will ask now: Why did someone like you start engaging in such a, for ladies, unusual activity?”

“The late Countess, our mother, Cloudia Phantomhive, encouraged me to start fencing,” Francis answered him. “She as well as our father knew how to fence, how to use a sword. It is something of a Phantomhive family tradition that every member regardless of gender learns to fence beginning at age six. I learned alongside Vincent under the guidance of our parents. To us, this was nothing unusual at all.”

“Interesting,” Redbird said. “Does this mean that you have a separate room for fencing training?”

She nodded. “Yes. Almost all our swords and epées and rapiers are displayed there too.”

Redbird stroked his chin-beard. “Truly, truly fascinating,” he mumbled.

“You intentionally did that mistake about Dionysus earlier to be able to say ‘Didn’t I say she’s brilliant’ and grin like an idiot, right?” Francis whispered to Vincent with a scowl on her face when Redbird was looking around the corridor again. Vincent only smiled at her.

  After our parents’ death, Francis couldn’t stop crying for a very long time. In-between, there had been short periods of time when her tears had been able to dry before she started crying again.

When she had burst out into tears as soon as I had stepped over the entrance’s door sill after hurrying to the manor from Weston College, I had been shocked – in my world, Franny was the stronger one out of us. In my world, Francis Phantomhive never shed a tear.

We had slept in the same bed for two weeks because none of us had wanted to stay alone at night. One night, after Francis had exhausted herself from crying and fallen asleep, I had held her hand and stared into the darkness, unable to find sleep myself, and realised that, perhaps, you weren’t weak when you cried. That crying wasn’t a sign of weakness but strength – because only the truly strong could face what caused them sadness and allow themselves to cry.

Perhaps, I had never been wrong with my assumption that Francis was the stronger one out of us.

  ***

  Vincent and Francis waited with Redbird outside in the courtyard for Tanaka to drive up with the carriage when Vincent noticed a man hammering against the manor’s gate. He walked towards him, and Francis followed him. None of them cared if Redbird came too – and he didn’t.

“What is wrong?” Vincent asked when he opened the gate for the man who was trying to catch his breath. He was rather young with fair hair and a ridiculous taste in clothes. Without taking a look, Vincent knew very well that Francis was glaring at the man because of that. He had to suppress a smile.

Furthermore, Vincent remembered that he had seen this man before – he would never forget a man who clothed himself like that. His name was Ash Pocher, and he lived in St Lacey, the little town closest to Phantomhive Manor and which stood under the Phantomhive family’s patronage. Despite being a simple shepherd, Ash liked to think of himself as a prince.

“What is wrong, Ash?” Vincent repeated, and Ash leaned against the gate.

“A woman,” Ash struggled to say. Even now, he didn’t forget to hold his chin high. “I was wandering through the forest when I saw a woman lying on the ground. I approached her and saw that she was unconscious and injured. I was afraid that I could make it worse by moving her – that’s why I left her there. But I know how to get back to her. I hurried to you, Mylord, as fast as I could because the manor was closer than St Lacey.”

  What he wanted to say was that he didn’t carry her to the manor like a true gentleman and left her in the woods because he didn’t want to stain his shirt.

  Tanaka had arrived with the carriage, and Vincent saw him approaching them from the corner of his eye. Vincent turned to Francis. “Fran, I want you to get a few servants and go with Ash to this woman. Bring her to the manor and send someone to get a physician.”

Francis shook her head. “I will not stay behind while you and Tanaka go with Redbird.”

“Please, Franny, that’s a life we are talking about.”

“Then, let’s not talk about it any longer: I will come with you, and you inform a servant about the woman and instruct him or her.”

“We all cannot just go when there’s an injured guest in the manor, Francis.”

“According to Ash, she’s unconscious – she won’t notice it anyway.”

Vincent ran a hand through his hair. “I need someone to welcome the physician.”

“What about the other servants?”

“I need someone I trust.”

“You don’t trust your own servants?”

“You know what I mean, Francis. I…” Vincent took a deep breath.

“What happened, Young Master, Lady Francis?” Tanaka asked when he reached them.

“Ash found an injured woman in the forest. I told Francis to stay here and help her while we go with Redbird to Brent.”

“And I told him that I would accompany him to London,” Francis added. “I cannot let him do this alone.”

“Young Master, if you allow it, I will stay behind and do my best to look after and help the woman,” Tanaka said without hesitation.

Vincent’s eyes widened, and Francis looked rather surprised at his suggestion too. “Tanaka – I need you by my side. You are my butler,” Vincent replied.

“I’ve accompanied your predecessor on only a handful of missions; you do not need me by your side, Young Master.”

“But it’s my first task…”

“And I know that the two of you will be able to handle this wonderfully on your own. I am afraid, Young Master, but time is running away from us – a woman is dying in this very moment.”

Vincent bit his lips and sighed. “Very well. Francis and I will go.”

“All will go well,” Tanaka meant. “The two of you will be fine – I know that, and the Mistress and the Master knew this even better than me.”

  ***

  They spent the three-hours carriage ride to the reservoir in silence – and Vincent was grateful for it. He didn’t feel like talking and only looked out of the window, seeing the landscape passing by.

  I didn’t want for the carriage to stop, for the ride to end – I wanted to continue seeing the landscape change outside and think of nothing.

I wanted to look out of the window and see the colours blend and forget all the pain, all the sadness of the past month. At least, for a while.

This was my first official task as the Queen’s Watchdog, and I needed to focus, but I found myself unable to clear my mind – my thoughts spun in my head and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but my parents.

I thought about their deaths, I thought about the time they had been alive.

I thought about all they had taught me – I couldn’t disappoint them today. I wanted them to be proud of me even after death.

  ***

  Paul Heffer was all Vincent had expected him to be. He was not very ugly, was not very beautiful either. He did not smell, but he did not seem to be very clean too. Neither tall nor small; neither intelligent nor dumb. Paul Heffer would have been terribly average if there wasn’t that slight sharpness shining in his eyes.

  I was certain that I had heard his name somewhere before, but I had never seen this man.

  “Mylord, may I introduce you to Mr Paul Heffer?” Redbird said, gesticulating with his hands. “Heffer, may I introduce you to the Earl of Phantomhive? And his sister, Lady Francis Phantomhive?”

Brent Reservoir was just as deserted as Redbird had told Vincent and Francis. The nature of the big reservoir’s shore grew wild and green, the ground seemed to have been dug over, and there weren’t any marks of people to be seen. There were hardly any houses in the area of the reservoir, and Old Welsh Harp Tavern was still closed which meant that Vincent, Francis, Redbird, and Heffer were the only people around. It was so oddly silent for London that Vincent could even hear the quacking of the ducks who swam in quite a distance from the shore where he stood with the others.

“A pleasure, Mylord, Mylady,” Heffer said and bowed in front of them.

“We gladly return the pleasure, Mr Heffer,” Vincent said, and Francis nodded politely at his words.

“Mr Redbird told us that you had seen a ghost in this area. Can you elaborate a bit on it?”

“I haven’t seen a ghost,” Heffer replied. “I’ve seen a group of ghosts. The Sidebottom boys.”

“There is no proof that they are the ghosts of the Sidebottom brothers,” said Vincent. “Or that, well, there are ghosts here at all.”

Heffer looked at him as if he was an idiot. Vincent would have loved to kick him in the shin but knew that he shouldn’t do it now. Perhaps later. “Bo – pardon me – Mylord, there were four ghosts. Four Sidebottoms died in the reservoir. It matches. Just like it matches with the fact that there isn’t a soul except us here.”

“You have just contradicted yourself, Mr Heffer,” Francis interjected. “You claim to have seen four ghosts, but now you have said that no other soul except those of ours are here. Ghosts, however, are often seen as ‘the souls of those who have left their dead body but couldn’t carry on to Hell or Heaven and have to stay in the mortal world.’ I hope you didn’t count us as the ghosts of the Sidebottom brothers? Just because we are four and standing by the reservoir? That would be highly ridiculous as the four of us are neither brothers, are ‘souls with no bodies’ nor we are so foolish to die by bathing in a restricted construction area – well, at least, Vincent and me, and to some extent Mr Redbird.”

  Francis had heard comments about her gender and her “untypical” activities for years now – that’s why she had learned to be calmer and more patient when it came to this topic and not to let the words of others affect her.

However, her self-control was almost non-existent when it came to different matters – for example, the claim that ghosts existed.

  Heffer narrowed his eyes. “What’s the little girl doing here?”

  If he kept on being such a nuisance, he would quickly become a “soul with no body.”

  “The ‘little girl’ has a name,” Francis replied, slightly narrowing her eyes. “Her name is Lady Francis Phantomhive, and it would be wonderful if you could remember this. Furthermore, I am barely younger than my brother – and if you seem to have no problem with calling me a ‘little girl,’ then why aren’t you consisted and call my brother the Earl ‘little boy’?”

Vincent stepped forward. “Mr Heffer,” he said to try bringing the situation under his control, “where exactly did you claim to have seen the ghosts? And do you know of other people who saw them as well?”

  ***

  I had always liked boating – liked the pitching and tossing, liked the feeling of having no firm ground under my feet. And when I lay down and looked up, there was blue above and underneath me.

When I was out on the water, I could forget all the troubles on the land.

Francis, however, had never been a boating enthusiast like me.

  “Can we please return? We will not find anything – it is ridiculous to keep on going,” Francis said to Vincent, glancing at the small waves which were produced due to the boat’s movement.

“We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t provoked Mr Heffer,” Vincent replied.

  My try to control the situation and prevent the argument between Francis and Heffer to turn into a feud had backfired when Heffer had said that he had seen the ghosts when he had been out alone on the water, and Francis had commented that it was rather “convenient” that no one but him had seen the ghosts.

Their argument had ended with Heffer making us get on a boat and put out to the reservoir so that he could show us the ghosts.

 Quite a while had passed, and we still hadn’t encountered any ghosts though.

  “This is silly, Vincent,” Francis said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at Heffer. “We will never find anything. It’s all in vain. You should tell Mr Redbird and the Queen that you cannot investigate this case because there is no case. It is more likely that W. P. Warner either closed his tavern for some reason and that’s why people don’t come here anymore – after all, the tavern seems to be the only attraction here – or that he is a murderer and killed everyone. We will die on this boat before we find any ghosts, and then, we won’t become the ghosts who haunt the reservoir because there is nothing supernatural in the world.”

“That’s what Mother used to say.” The words came out of Vincent’s mouth before he could do anything, and his and Francis’ gaze saddened immediately.

  “There is nothing supernatural in the world,” she would say whenever strange noises could be heard in the manor, and Franny and I had concluded that it could only be a poltergeist, or whenever we noticed something odd.

As children, we had never believed that a monster could live under our beds, but we had kept wondering. And, every time, we had gone to Mother to tell her about our speculations, she would always say the same words: “There is nothing supernatural in the world.”

But even though, I had grown up with this sentence in my head, deep down in a part of my heart I knew that it couldn’t be true. It was the part of me which would stay a child forever – a hopeful, wondering, curious child. It was the part of me which would shrink and shrink with each step I wandered deeper into the Underworld. It was the part of me I hoped would never fully vanish.

I knew that Mother’s words were true on a rational basis, and still, I wished that today, Fran and I would encounter the ghosts.

And something told me that, secretly, Francis wished for the same.

  “Mr Heffer,” Vincent said, wanting to focus his mind on something else than his mother, “I seem to have heard your name before, but I am not certain if it was really you I had heard of – so would you be so kind and tell me what your occupation is?”

“Of course, I will be so kind,” Heffer said and cleared his throat. “You see, Mylord…”

Suddenly, Heffer brought the boat to standstill, and Redbird took a gun out of his jacket pocket.

Vincent raised his hands. “Gentlemen, I know that the answering of questions is often not an easy task, but brain work needs to be done – preferably without reaching for violence.”

Redbird laughed. “I think there’s a misunderstanding who is the moron in this situation, Phantomhive.”

“At least, I am not a heathen who brings a gun to a good, old fist fight.”

“You have no idea how pleased I will be to blow out your light.”

“No! The girl first,” said Heffer, glaring at Francis. “That nasty little girl deserves a bullet between her eyes.”

The next moment, Francis took a knife out of her sleeve and jumped at Heffer, letting the boat shake. For a second, Redbird’s attention was not focused on Vincent but Heffer and Francis, and Vincent used this fatal mistake to knock the gun out of Redbird’s hands. Redbird turned around, but before he could strike, Vincent landed a punch against his face.

  Welsh Harp was not a very deep reservoir. Its average depth was only two metres, but we had rowed quite far, and I estimated that if we dived, the ground would be around five metres below us.

  Heffer had lost grip of an oar when Francis had attacked him and cursed when it vanished in the dark water. He held his second and last oar with both his hands and lunged out at Francis with it, nearly hitting Redbird and Vincent. Francis ducked down before the oar could collide with her head and stepped forward, trying to slice with the knife across Heffer’s chest, but his action had brought the boat into fluctuation, and the four of them fell down.

  If Francis and I jumped and swam, would we be able to endure it until we reached the shore? The waves weren’t strong but we both wore heavy clothes, and the dry land was rather far away. I was especially worried about Francis as she wore a dress with a crinoline.

  Vincent hit his head hard against the boat’s bottom and when he looked up, his vision still blurry and his head spinning, he faintly saw Redbird picking up his gun and pointing it at Francis who was about to stand up again. And even though his head was still not working properly, he rushed forward and shielded his sister. With the boat still swaying, the bullet did not hit, but it did not miss either when Redbird pulled the trigger of his gun.

The bullet grazed Vincent’s right arm and made him stumble back and against Francis – then, Heffer hit Vincent with the oar, and he and his sister fell off the boat and into the water which was coloured red where they hit it and vanished into its depths.

  But, I guessed, now, we had no choice anymore.

  ***

  “Vincent.”

Mother? I looked around and saw her in front of me – my beautiful mother with the sad eyes.

“Vincent.”

I opened my mouth and wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“Vincent – every task has to be done whole-heartedly. If you are not focused, if you focus on something else but the task at hand, you raise the possibility to fail.”

I wanted to say something – I wanted to tell her that I missed her. I wanted to reach out to her. But my body was not working, was not responding to any of my commands.

This was a fragment of my memories – my sub-consciousness had made me remember something my mother had told me long ago.

The woman in front of me was only a recording of this memory, and I knew that my words would never be able to reach her. But I wished there was a way they could. I wished they would.

“But, Vincent, keep in mind that failure is nothing to be ashamed of. Because just because we fail, just because we make mistakes, we can grow. We can learn. It doesn’t matter if we fail – what matters is what we do with the experience of failure. If we can go on or if we cling to the mistakes we have made.”

  “Vincent, Vincent…”

The sound of someone calling his name woke him up.

He opened his eyes and saw Francis kneeling next to him. They were on dry land again.

  She had done it. Francis had managed to swim back to the shore in her heavy dress and with me as additional weight to carry.

Mother used to say that there was nothing supernatural in the world, but every time, I saw Fran demonstrating her strength, all I could think of was that, at least, even if everything else wasn’t her strength was.

I smiled a little smile.

My special, special sister.

  The clothes of his sister were drenched. Algae and leaves clung to her, and there was a stick in her hair. Vincent could not say if she had cried, but he saw how shaken she was.

  I wondered how I looked like.

  “You are awake,” Francis said to him and rubbed her face. She might look dreadful, but, at least, she didn’t seem to be injured. “And you didn’t want me to go with you. That’s exactly why I have insisted on coming with you.”

“Hello, Franny.” If he could wave, he would have had.

“Mother…” she started before biting her lip, but he knew what she had wanted to say: Mother had died alone. If I hadn’t come with you, you would have died alone too. If I hadn’t come with you, there wouldn’t have been anyone to prevent this from happening.

Vincent wanted to sit up but when he tried to move his right arm, pain ran through his body, and he remembered the fight on the boat. Francis helped him sit up, and he held his arm. The bleeding had stopped as, apparently, Francis had cut off his sleeve and tied it around his wound.

“Where are those bastards?” Vincent wanted to know, and Francis smiled a bit at his words.

“When I reached the shore, they were already long gone.” She pointed to the boat which had returned to the jetty. Only now did Vincent realise that they weren’t on the same side of the reservoir where they had started.

“I guess they thought we had died when we didn’t surface right away,” Francis continued. “They’ve made a crucial mistake.”

Vincent grinned. “‘Always check the corpse if you don’t want an unpleasant surprise later on,’” they said in unison and laughed.

“Why do you think did they do this?” Vincent said, but just when the question had left his mouth, his brain had found an answer.

“The manor,” he breathed, his eyes widened. “Fran – the manor. They are heading to the manor.”

Francis frowned. “Why should they be doing this?”

“Think, Fran – Redbird looked around a bit too intensively when we walked through the corridors. And ever since he told us Heffer’s name, I knew that I had heard the name ‘Paul Heffer’ before, and now, I can finally remember why: He’s the owner of Heffer’s Antiquity Shop where Father was a regular customer.”

“The woman in the woods,” Francis added. “Ash finding her was not a coincidence then.”

Vincent nodded. “Exactly. She was only brought into the play so that we would be forced to split up.”

“They didn’t aim to kill us,” she said. “Not primarily, at least. They only wanted us as far away as possible from the manor.”

“So that when they move to the next stage of their plan, they would have to face fewer opponents.”

“And they are striking now because the household is still in mourning and all of our minds are with Mother and Father.”

“That’s how they got us,” said Vincent and clenched his left hand. “They exploited the fact that none of us is at their best right now to set their plan rolling.”

  At least, I as the family head should have kept my mind focused and sharp. It was my fault that all of this had happened. How could I have been so stupid to let my mind wander restlessly?

“But, Vincent, keep in mind that failure is nothing to be ashamed of.”

And suddenly, I recalled the words Mother had told me in my dream.

“If we can go on or if we cling to the mistakes we have made.”

  “Fran,” Vincent said, jumping to his feet. “We have to go back to the manor.”

“But how should we do it?” Francis replied. “There is nobody around – they had made sure of that. You are injured, we are both drenched and dirty, and the manor is fifty kilometres away. We can only hope that Tanaka and the other servants have not been stabbed in the back by this woman Redbird and Heffer planted into our home, that they will be able to defeat them, and Tanaka comes to get us.”

He shook his head. “We cannot just hope and wait, Franny. I am surprised to hear that from you – usually, you are the one who chooses the reckless route.”

“I don’t usually choose the reckless route – I choose the rational route. And this isn’t the reckless one anyway,” Francis countered. “This is the ridiculous route. We cannot walk fifty kilometres back home in our condition and expect that they would wait for us to foil their plan.”

“We don’t have to walk all the way back home, Francis,” Vincent replied. “They aren’t gone for long now – they can’t have come far.”

“Vincent, even if we weren’t tired and drenched, even if you weren’t injured, we wouldn’t be able to catch up with a carriage. If only there was a way to contact someone and…” She suddenly cut herself off.

“Hm? Is anything wrong, Fran?”

Francis didn’t answer his question. Instead, she frisked her neck and sighed in relief. Then, she reached into her dress and took out a necklace with an unusual pendant in the shape of a skull.

“Just before she went away,” Francis told Vincent, “Mother gave me this necklace. She told me always to wear and never lose it because if I ever got into trouble, the necklace would be helpful to me. According to her, I should only put my hand around the pendant and think a message like ‘Help me’ or ‘Find me’ or anything like that, and then, after a while, I would get help. She also told me that if I didn’t wear the necklace and only held it in my hand, it wouldn’t work.” She lowered her voice. “Then, she said goodbye to me – these were the last words Mother had ever said to me.”

Vincent couldn’t help himself but grimace for a second before he examined the pendant in greater detail. It was surely a very strange pendant not only because of its shape but also because it was covered in scratches.

  It looked so old.

  “But how should that work?” Vincent asked, incredulous, to avoid voicing the question the necklace truly brought about. “Over the years, Mother never missed an opportunity to tell us that supernatural things don’t exist – and then, she gives you a necklace which, if it works, is clearly supernatural? It doesn’t fit.”

“I know, but that is all we have. I have no idea why Mother gave me this necklace or why she told me all these fantastic things,” Francis replied. “All I know is that part of me trusts her. That even though she said those things throughout her life, she still believed in this necklace – and I want to believe in it too. Just like Mother. And it won’t hurt to try.”

Slightly hesitant, Francis embraced the skull pendant with her hand and closed her eyes. When she was done, she opened them again and let the pendant vanish under her dress.

“What now?” Vincent said.

“Now we have to wait and hope.”

  ***

  The last time, I had seen my parents before their death had been on the two days of the annual cricket tournament at my school.

They had come with Francis and Tanaka, and I remembered how happy I had been when I had seen them in the crowd of incoming guests. I had not interacted much with them though. Now, I wished I had stayed more with them and hadn’t continued vexing Diedrich von Weizsäcker.

At least, they had smiled the last time I had seen them.

 The love of my parents had never been loud – just like every other romance in our society too. But it didn’t have to be loud.

At the tournament, I always saw parents who visibly didn’t like each other, who had only come together because of society or duty or both. But in every word, in every smile they had exchanged, it was clear that my parents had married for more than that.

They had shown their love for each other in small, subtle gestures – and they had shown their love for us in the same way.

We Phantomhives weren’t subtle or shy, but we were when it came to love.

  “She knew,” Vincent said the words he had avoided earlier. He was sitting next to his sister now. “Mother knew what would await her.”

Francis put a hand on her chest, right above the skull pendant. “And she still went away – but why?”

“That’s the question.”

“What…” she started and paused before continuing. “What if I had been able to stop her? If I had told her to stay when she had bid goodbye to Father and me?”

“Franny – this is not your fault,” Vincent replied. “No one is at fault but the person who did this to her. How could you have stopped something you had no idea that could happen? In retrospect, it may appear that you, we could have done something but, actually, it isn’t like that. She lied to us where she would go. If we had known, this would have been different, but we hadn’t. We hadn’t, Francis. And Mother said goodbye like every other time she went somewhere – that was not an indication that she would knowingly put herself into danger. I would say that while Mother knew where she was going and what she was doing and that it was dangerous, she didn’t know that she would die. Franny, she didn’t give you the necklace in the knowledge that she would definitely die on that day – she gave it to you in case that something would happen to her.

“Mother was the only person who could have prevented this – and even she hadn’t known all. Not even she had known enough to keep this tragedy from happening.”

Francis leaned against Vincent, and he leaned against her.

“I miss them, Vin,” she whispered.

“I miss them too.”

They stayed like this for a while until they heard the sound of horses walking on grass and the rattling of a carriage’s wheels. They looked around, and their eyes widened when they saw who was riding the carriage.

“Undertaker?” they said at the same time and struggled to stand up to approach him.

“How did you find us, Undertaker?” Vincent asked when they reached the carriage which had stopped in the meantime.

  The necklace, the necklace – it had worked. It had really worked just like Mother had said.

  “I had the odd feeling that I would find you here. I didn’t think that our paths would cross so soon again,” Undertaker replied and leaned down. When he spoke, his voice was full of concern. “What happened to you, little Phantomhives?”

  ***

  They had met the odd mortician for the first time at their parents’ funeral. Back then, Undertaker had approached and offered them his help when no one else had. Vincent wondered why of all people, the man he had only met once before had come to help them after Francis had used the skull pendant necklace.

  Perhaps, it contacted the closest available person the bearer knew? Francis rarely left the manor, and Undertaker was one of the few persons she knew besides the members of our household, my schoolmates at Weston, and the boys from the fencing school. Was that the reason why Undertaker had been the one who had come? Or had all only happened by chance and the necklace wasn’t really enchanted?

  “A lot of people vanished around here,” Undertaker suddenly said on their way back to the manor a while later. Vincent had wanted to leave as soon as possible so that they wouldn’t lose any more time, but Undertaker had insisted to thoroughly examine him and, after asking, Francis to make sure that they weren’t injured somewhere – because, sometimes, you didn’t notice it yourself if you were hurt or not. Also, he had cleaned and re-bandaged Vincent’s wound.

“Some corpses were found all around London; the whereabouts of the remaining bodies are still unknown. The owner of the Old Welsh Harp Tavern was taken into custody because the only connection the victims had was that they were regulars at that pothouse. After Warner was declared a subject in this crime and was taken in, Scotland Yard forbade the few residents living here to come close to the area around the reservoir.”

“How do you know all of that?” Francis wanted to know.

“Lady Phantomhive, can’t you guess? I am the mortician who conducted the post-mortem examinations on the corpses and buried them. I care for those who died, and nobody else cares about – I am the undertaker of England’s Underworld.”

Vincent closed his eyes. “Redbird and Heffer murdered those people for their story to have more basis. I wonder for how long they have planned all this.”

“But the Queen’s letter,” his sister added. “What about Queen Victoria’s letter? She sent you one in which she apologised, told you that she had a task for you, and that you should meet with Ruadh-Éan Redbird to find out more.”

“It is easy to find out if the letter was real or not,” Undertaker said to their surprise. “I hear and see a lot, and thus, I know that, as long as it is not a short note, the Queen likes to add more to her letters than needed – personal anecdotes, for example. This isn’t something you can find out when you have only one of her letters. Also, when it comes to work regarding the Watchdog, she prefers to write the letters herself over letting someone else write what she dictates.”

Vincent opened his eyes again and stared at Undertaker – something which he couldn’t see because he was facing away from Francis and Vincent.

  At our first and only encounter until now, I had already noticed that Undertaker was not a normal mortician, but I wouldn’t have imagined that he would be even more than what I had thought he was back then.

But, I guessed, that humans were always more than they initially appeared to be.

  “The Queen didn’t add more than what Francis said,” Vincent told Undertaker. “And when I think about it – the writing in the letter she sent me looked different than the writing in the letters she sent to my father. I was never allowed to read them, but I could glimpse at them.”

“So they forged a letter on the base of an official letter coming from Her Majesty,” Francis said, “but it didn’t come to their mind that the way she writes her official letters isn’t the way she writes her letters to the Watchdog.”

Vincent nodded. “All fits together. I am certain that we wouldn’t have fallen for their trap if they had struck in a few months when our minds are not so clouded anymore.”

“Yes, definitely. But that raises the question why they are doing this in the first place,” said Francis. “Heffer owns an antiquity shop, and this could mean that they aren’t doing all this just to steal our money but for something much more valuable and rarer. Something antique. But the only thing which comes to my mind is the Phantomhive ring which you are wearing right now, Vincent. If they were after the ring, they would have kidnapped you and forced you to hand it over. And if you disobeyed, they would have just cut off your hand – the treasure they seek can’t be the Phantomhive ring because if it was, they wouldn’t be doing all this. Whatever they want, they think it is somewhere in the manor.”

“I also cannot think of anything else but the ring,” Vincent replied and touched the ring’s blue stone. Even if it was eerie that this ring had seen his predecessor’s death, the ring still brought Vincent comfort in a way he couldn’t describe.

“Tanaka had come to the manor to steal something too,” Francis suddenly added, and Vincent turned his head to blink at her. “We were never told what it was he was supposed to steal; we only know that it was neither money nor the ring too. What if Heffer, Redbird, and the woman want to steal the same thing which was the reason Tanaka had come all the way from Japan to England?”

“It… it is possible,” Vincent agreed. “I am certain that Tanaka’s already managed to make them pee in their pants and petticoats when we arrive. I doubt that the woman could do anything against him. Tanaka is incredibly fast and strong despite his age. And he is not so naïve to keep his back unguarded. Not even when he is in mourning and doesn’t expect an attack. When we return, we will pressure Redbird and his henchmen until they tell us the reason for their actions. Also, we can ask Tanaka what he wanted to steal thirteen years ago.”

“Who is that woman anyway? I wished Ash had been enough of a decent person to bring her to the manor so that we could have looked at her before we started out to Brent.”

“My wild guess is that the third person, the woman you are speaking of, is Rhea Simone,” Undertaker interjected. “She is Ruadh-Éan Redbird’s fiancée and a truly unpleasant person just like him.”

Vincent frowned. “You met Redbird and his fiancée?”

“Only Simone, but from what you have told me about Redbird, he seems not to be better than his betrothed.”

  It was almost scary how much Undertaker knew – perhaps, in the future, his knowledge could be very helpful to me?

  ***

  They spent the rest of the carriage drive to the manor in silence, and Vincent did his best not to let his thoughts wander.

  I had been distracted enough for today.

  ***

  The manor looked just like they had left it except that, now, all servants were gathered in the courtyard. They stood around the bodies of three people. Vincent didn’t know if they were only unconscious or already dead. He recognised Redbird and Heffer. The third person, a woman, was just as bruised and bleeding as her companions, and her strangely coloured hair was in a ridiculous braided hairstyle. Vincent saw Undertaker nodding from the corner of his eye, and he knew that the woman was indeed Rhea Simone, Redbird’s fiancée.

Tanaka ran towards them when he saw them at the gate.

“Lady Francis! Young Master!” he called. “I was about to head to Brent to find you – I would have never forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

Vincent gave him a crooked smile. “We fought bravely – but our brave fight made us take a bath against our will. Undertaker was so friendly to bring us home.”

Undertaker waved at Tanaka who bowed at him. “And I thank him for that.”

“What happened to Redbird and his accomplices?” Vincent asked, nodding towards them.

“I am sorry, Young Master,” Tanaka replied. “I know that you would have liked to interrogate them, but when we cornered them, they suddenly started to attack one another. We tried to stop them, but they still managed to kill one another.”

“It is all right, Tanaka – you did all you could.”

  It was over. My first “task” as the Watchdog was over.

And even though I had failed miserably, I knew that my parents wouldn’t be disappointed in me. That they wouldn’t start to love me less than before.

  And then, suddenly, Vincent’s eyes began to tear.

  I hadn’t cried when I had found out. I hadn’t cried at their funeral. I hadn’t cried when I had walked towards Queen Victoria on my decoration day.

All this time, I had felt so numb inside – numb because our sudden loss was still inside my bones, numb because I had always felt and thought that as the Earl of Phantomhive, as the family head, I could not cry. Because, after all, I was the one everyone looked up at and who should watch over all.

But, sometimes, tears could come when you least expected them. When you kept your guard down for even a moment.

And I cried. I cried for Mother and Father and for every other opportunity to cry I had missed.

They were gone, but they were still with us – they were with us when we ate dinner, were with us when we walked through the manor. They were in our memories, in all they had taught us, and in their love to us which we would never lose.

 Francis embraced me, and Undertaker and Tanaka turned away, and I cried in her arms for all we had loved and lost.

I was the Watchdog, I was the Earl and family head – but it didn’t matter if I was the one who should give support, it didn’t matter if I was the one who should lend all my shoulder; sometimes, I still needed someone who could support me and who would lend me their shoulder. I still needed a partner and someone by my side.

At the end of the day, I was still a human after all.

[bxcketbarnes]

A New Appetite

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Darkish!Reader

Words: 2700+

Hey-o! So, uh, I totally love this fucking character. 😅 I'm simping hard, honestly. Here's my first Steve fic! Contains major spoilers for those who haven't seen the movie which I will tag as fresh spoilers. Whoever reads this- I hope you enjoy it! Much love! xox

A sigh leaves your lips as you press your phone to your ear, listening to it continuously ring. It's the fourth time you've tried reaching out to your best friend Steve. "C'mon, where are you?" You mumble while looking out your living room window.

Your call goes to voice-mail again and you run a hand through your hair. You hang up the phone before slipping it into your back pocket. After gathering your purse and keys, you walk out of your house.

It's been five days since you've seen and heard from Steve. You're more than a little worried about him. The two of you have been really close up until late and you have no idea why.

You climb into your vehicle before letting out a deep breath. You chew your bottom lip gently as you think back to the time you and Steve first met.

7 Years Ago

You're walking around the produce section of the grocery store before you run into somebody. A gasp leaves your lips as you press your hand against their back.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize immediately while looking up at them. Your eyes widen as the brunette turns to face you, a smile coming to his lips.

"Oh, it's fine. I know what it's like to be in the zone," he chuckles while running a hand through his hair. "I'm Steve."

You smile up at him before glancing down at the hand he's currently holding out. "Y/N," you introduce yourself while shaking his hand.

"Y/N," he repeats your name, and your heart flutters in your chest, liking how he says it. "Well, I just moved here. Maybe a pretty girl like you can show me around?"

"A flirt, I see," you giggle and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Uhm, I can show you around, sure."

The smile on his lips widens before motioning for you to continue walking. You press your lips together and walk forward and Steve follows you. "So, where's your favorite place to eat?" He asks you and you look up at him.

"Hm, that's a tough question. I like a lot of different kinds of food," you inform him with a grin.

"Then I'll have to take you just about everywhere to find out," Steve jokes while grabbing some fruit.

You chuckle at his offer, shaking your head before shrugging your shoulders. "I guess you will. Although, you don't have to do that," you mention as the two of you make your way towards the registers.

"Does that mean I can get your number?" He asks you with a raised brow.

"You're really straightforward, Steve," you let out an awkward laugh while standing in front of him.

Steve shrugs his shoulders and pops a couple of grapes in his mouth. "I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm not the best at making friends," he tells you before smiling softly at you. "You can tell me to fuck off."

You look up at him again, the beeping of the register echoing off the walls as you seem to get lost in his eyes. "No, you're fine. I'm just… not used to this," you confess to him with flushed cheeks.

"To what?" He asks innocently while tilting his head.

A groan escapes your lips and you hide your face in your free hand. "To- you know- guys flirting with me? Being interested in me?" You mumble.

Steve hums as you begin placing your groceries onto the belt. "Well, I think you're absolutely gorgeous," he mentions and gently trails his fingertips along your arm.

You're shaken out of the memory by the sound of your phone vibrating. A gasp leaves your lips as you quickly pull it from your pants pocket. You answer it immediately without checking who it is first, automatically assuming it's Steve.

"Steve, hey, where are you?" You ask while fastening your seatbelt.

"Sorry, I'm not Steve," your friend mumbles into the phone and your heart drops. "He's still not answering your calls?"

You sigh and mumble a quick no. You glance behind you while backing out of your driveway. "I'm going to his place though. He's got to be there and I'm getting my fucking answers," you mention to her, tired of being in the dark. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Alright. I'll talk to you later, hon," she mumbles before bidding you goodbye.

-

It takes almost two hours to get to his place, never realizing that Steve lived so far in the woods. You grow a bit nervous as you pull up to his house, seeing his car parked in the driveway.

"It's now or never, Y/N," you say to yourself while turning your vehicle off.

You fumble with your fingers as you walk up to the front door before peeking through the window. You bite your lip and knock on the door.

After waiting almost two minutes you decide to knock again, louder this time. The door opens up a minute later and Steve looks through the crack.

"Y/N?" He asks and you let out a relieved sigh.

"Steve," you whisper and try to open the front door, only to have him stop you from coming in. "Steve, let me in."

"What are you doing here?" He asks another question, his brows furrowing.

You tuck some hair behind your ear and you wet your lips. "You… you haven't been answering my texts or calls," you tell him with sad eyes. "I-I thought that I had done something wrong. I mean, I haven't seen you in almost a week."

Steve opens the door further and frowns. "I'm sorry about that. Uh, I've been quite busy with my job," he mumbles as you take a hesitant step towards him.

"Can I come in?" You ask him and Steve nods his head.

You walk into the large place before slipping off your shoes. "You know, in the seven years that we've known each other- I've never seen the inside of your house," you mention to him as he leads you towards the living area.

"I don't invite many people over. I hope you're not upset about it," he mentions and you shake your head with a smile.

"I understand, Steve. You're…. You're reserved," you chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck. "I missed you."

The brunette circles his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "I missed you too. Uhm, I'm just in the middle of cooking dinner," he clears his throat.

You pull away from him and furrow your brows. "Are you okay? You're acting a bit weird," you mumble and move your hand to his face.

He quickly grabs your hand and grips it tightly. A pained cry leaves your lips as your free hand wraps around his wrist.

"S-Steve-" you stutter as tears pool in your eyes. "I-It's me…"

"I didn't want you finding out," Steve whispers while releasing your hand. "You should've never come here."

Your heart pounds against your chest as he walks away from you. "What are you talking about?" You ask him and follow him. You let out a gasp as you notice a leg sitting on his kitchen counter. "Is that-"

"Yes," he cuts you off while he reaches for the knife. "It's a woman's leg."

"O-Oh," you stutter and swallow thickly. "So, where do you get it from?"

Steve tilts his head at your question and lets out a quiet hum. "Do you really want to know?" He asks you and you find yourself nodding your head.

He wets his lips and holds his hand out to you. "C'mon," Steve whispers.

You swallow thickly and place your hand in his. Steve laces your fingers together before leading you down the hallway. The two of you walk down a flight of curved stairs as the sound of a woman's voice fills your ears.

You squeeze Steve's hand at the sound, causing the brunette to glance back at you. "It's okay," he mumbles before bringing your conjoined hands to his lips.

Your cheeks blush at the gesture and Steve leads you further into the basement. "How many are here?" You ask him while quickly stepping up to him.

"Three that are alive," he answers you, his blue eyes looking down at you. "Are you scared?"

"No," you whisper, causing Steve's heart to flutter in his chest. He's glad that you're accepting who he is.

"Good," Steve mumbles and continues leading you towards his walk-in freezer.

Your eyes look into the room you pass by, seeing glimpses of women through the wooden slats. One of their eyes meets yours before they scream for help. You jump at the loud screech and find yourself getting closer to Steve.

His hand moves to the small of your back and glances back at the room you just passed. "It's alright," he reassures you before coming to a stop. Steve brings his hands to your face and strokes your cheeks. "You're okay."

"Sorry," you whisper and Steve smiles down at you.

"No need to be sorry. It's not something you're used to seeing or experiencing," he explains while shrugging his shoulders. "Plus, the girls- they don't normally see anyone new. We're heading upstairs soon."

His thumb drags across your bottom lip before he pulls away from you. Steve moves to open the door in front of him, revealing a freezer full of body parts. "Oh my god," you mumble to yourself while stepping up to the doorway.

"I sell most of it," Steve mentions to you and you glance back at him. "Quite a few men are interested in this kind of stuff."

You hum as the brunette moves to close the freezer door. You're not sure how to feel as you intake a lot of information. "Is… is there a place where I can just lay down?" You ask Steve while fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, you can take my room. C'mon," he motions for you to go first before his hands rest on your back.

The two of you make your way back upstairs as the one woman you passed before continues to scream for help. Once you're back in the hallway, Steve locks the basement door before turning his attention to you.

He grabs a hold of your chin and moves your face around gently. "You're looking a bit pale, gorgeous," Steve mumbles before stroking your skin.

"Jus- It's just a lot to take in," you chuckle awkwardly while gliding your fingers along his arm.

"Why don't you spend the night and tomorrow we can have dinner," he suggests and you're nodding your head without really thinking about it. Steve grins widely, kind of glad he decided against taking you years ago.

You bite your lips as your fingers lace with his again. Butterflies swarm around your stomach while Steve leads you towards his bedroom. Once inside the room, he walks over to his dresser and pulls out a shirt for you to wear.

"Where are you going to sleep?" You ask him out of curiosity.

His blue eyes meet yours while running a hand through his hair. "I can take the couch. It's no big deal," he tells you.

"You can sleep with me, Steve…" you trail off and tilt your head a bit. "It's a pretty big bed and I'm sure it's much more comfortable than the couch."

His gaze moves down your body and bites his lip gently. "As long as you're comfortable with it," Steve reminds you and you're nodding your head in confirmation. He lets out a breathy laugh and grins. "Alright, I'll sleep in here then."

-

Your fingers glide along Steve's bare chest as the sun peeks through the blinds. A quiet groan leaves your lips and you shift your sleeping position, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Steve chuckles beneath you and slips his hand under his shirt you're wearing. "My blinds kind of suck," he mumbles loud enough for you to hear. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you whisper into his neck before pulling away from him.

His blue eyes look down at you and Steve brings a hand to your face. Your cheeks blush as he strokes your skin, a smile gracing his lips. "You're fucking beautiful," Steve sighs, causing your cheeks to redden even more. "I never knew you'd get so flustered."

"Shut up," you laugh while hiding your face in his chest. Steve's hand finds its way into your hair and he gently runs his fingers through it.

"I have some things to do today," he tells you and you glance up at him. He stares up at the ceiling while continuing to comb your hair. "You gonna be okay here by yourself?"

You smile softly and nod your head. "I'll be okay. You do what you have to do," you inform him and lightly press a kiss to his shoulder.

"You're quite incredible, did you know that?" Steve whispers and you shrug your shoulders. "I'm just… really glad you're here now."

You adjust your arm and sit up slightly. "You mean a lot to me, Steve. I don't want to lose you," you confess to him while stroking his cheek.

The brunette leans into your touch before softly kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm not going anywhere, don't you worry," he mumbles against your hand.

You decide to do something bold and push yourself up from the bed before straddling Steve's hips. Your breath hitches in your throat as he looks up at you, an emotion you've never seen him have before swimming in his blue irises.

His hands find their place on your thighs before slowly gliding them upward. "Is this a ploy to get me to not go?" Steve asks with a slight smirk.

"Is it working?" You ask him before biting your lip.

A breathy laugh leaves his lips and Steve adjusts his lying position. "Mm, it might," he grins while gripping your thighs. "But, I do need to go."

You giggle and nod your head before sliding off of his lap. "Fine, fine. I'll see you later," you smile as Steve presses his lips to your cheek.

"You probably didn't bring extra clothes, right?" He asks you and you shake your head in response. "I don't know how you'll feel about it, but there are some woman's clothes in the spare closet."

The smile drops from your lips, not feeling very comfortable about wearing dead woman's clothes. "Uhm, I think I'll just wear what I wore yesterday if that's okay," you inform him while fiddling with your fingers.

"That's fine, gorgeous. Whatever makes you comfortable."

Steve gets ready for his busy day as you stay sitting on his king-sized bed. You watch him quietly, admiring him as he gets dressed. His eyes meet yours a couple of times, causing Steve to smile each time.

"Alright," he mumbles while patting his pockets, making sure he has everything. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely," you smile while moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve walks over to you and grabs a hold of your face. Your heart pounds in your chest as he drags his thumb across your lip. "Wanna kiss you," he whispers, and your breath hitches.

"Go ahead," you tell him and he wets his lips before connecting your lips with his.

You let out a quiet moan as your hands grab a hold of his arms. You kiss him back immediately as Steve pushes you back against his bed.

"I thought you said you had to go," you chuckle into the kiss, your hands moving to his shoulders.

Steve hums and pulls away from you for a few seconds before kissing you again. "I'm going," he mutters against your lips. "You're distracting me."

Your heart flutters against your chest and you let out a deep breath. "Well, I'm all yours when you're done, Steve," you grin while stroking his cheek.

"I'll hold you to it," he smiles and pushes himself off of you. "If you need me, call me, okay?"

"Get out of here," you laugh as you watch the brunette leave his bedroom. A deep sigh comes from your lips as you're left alone.

-

Taglist: @sweetdreamsbuck @marvel-3407@thewxntersoldier @queen-of-mischief

[fluffyprettykitty]

Saturday

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem! reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 1424 words

Outline: Instantiable night session with Frank.

Warnings: smut only, spanking, oral (both), choking, overstimulation, dirty talk, mention of sex toys, slight cumplay, if I missed anything or tagged something wrong please let me know!

Author’s Note: first time writing smut for Frank, I just went with it tbh and it ended up being my first one-shot, thank you so much to @late-to-the-party-81​ for beta reading this!

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics​

🌟 Please reblog and comment, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged and allows me to learn what to work on 🌟

Main Masterlist ・❥・Frank Castle Masterlist

THIS IS A NSFW DRABBLE. MINORS PLEASE DNI.

Sunday morning, seven am, church bells chiming in the distance, and you were still in the same position you had been for hours; on all fours getting spanked and eaten out by the big man in town, the notorious Frank Castle. Tall and broad, large muscular arms, a tongue that worked like the devil wanted to devour you whole, a low baritone voice, and the best cock you could ever dream of.

Frank was relentless. He didn’t come by your place a lot, always lost in the streets, between fights and justice runs, but when he did come by he made sure he left his impact. He loved marking you up and hearing you scream and shout. He loved watching you moan and plead and seeing the blissed-out look on your face when you finished. And boy, did he fucking love making you finish.

On his tongue.

On his fingers.

On his cock.

As long as he was making you orgasm he didn’t care about the method or the technique.

It was around eleven pm when you’d heard your doorbell ring and instead of greeting you with a hello or asking if someone was already inside –as if he wouldn’t fuck you in front of whoever you had brought back home, something he has done in the past actually– he’d taken a step inside in his heavy army boots, grabbed you by the throat and led you to the velvet couch before throwing you on it.

He’d stopped to greet your cat, who was sitting on the armchair next to the couch, for a second before he’d let go of your throat and spread your legs. Frank pushed your oversized hoodie up and immediately licked a stripe over your clothed pussy whilst looking up at you. You always opted out of pants and bras when lounging at home, another thing he loved about you.

“She seems needy and lonely already. You haven’t been taking care of her a lot have you, sugar?”

You mewled, knowing damn well he was right. You hadn’t been touching yourself for a week now,; your period had come and gone, work had kept you busy and you’d spent the whole of Saturday daytime with your family. However, you’d wanted to have some fun on your own this evening and your wand vibrator was charging by your coffee table next to the tv.

I wonder if he can see it? you thought to yourself momentarily, before the sound of Frank ripping off your panties pulled you out of your thoughts, making you moan as he licked another stripe with his big tongue.

“She missed me, darling, look at how she is responding to me already. I’m sorry baby for neglecting you, life has been busy but I promise you, you are going to be filled and pleasured tonight for all the time I’ve been away”

He cooed as he looked at your pussy, placing a trail of soft kisses alongside your belly and pussy. Obviously, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how he loved talking to your pussy and you as if you weren’t the one and the same. His being so obsessed with your pussy made you feel a strange sense of pride.

Frank’s tongue darted out again and the tip pushed inside your folds. His right hand, which had been resting on your belly, caressing your skin softly and gently, moved down, reaching your pussy to open your lips for him as he begins licking around your folds and across your velvet walls. He chuckled at the way your wetness was increasing, responding to his delicious movements.

Frank didn’t like using his fingers in you when he ate you out. He was a greedy bastard and wanted all of your pleasure to come from his tongue and his tongue alone. So his two fingers had opened your lips up and he was licking across your inner folds rapidly, the tip of his tongue moving up and down as he teasingly reached your clit and then left it cold again. That’s the way he liked it.

Frank liked taking his time. He liked when you were sitting like this, your hoodie pushed up under your chin, your hands on your breasts, playing with your nipples, twirling them between your delicate fingers, with his left hand gripping your thigh down on the couch. You felt so good under his touch as his tongue worked your pussy like magic. And your pussy loved him so much in return: It was a passionate love affair.

When he reached your clit, he made sure to suck hard and fast knowing it wouldn’t take you long to cum, and that’s where you were at, fifteen minutes later. The burning sensation inside your stomach filled you up with unbearable desire, as he sucked your harshly, and your first orgasm escaped from your lips, making your cat run to your bedroom, and your chest rose up and down.

Once wasn’t enough for Frank though, and he sucked your clit all through your aftershocks and straight into your second orgasm, gripping your thigh tightly, his hard fingers digging into your skin, as you tried to squirm away from his touch. The pleasure was getting too much, your heart rate increasing.

Once he was satisfied with ruining your pussy with his mouth, he lapped away all of your juices, taking his sweet time cleaning you up, before he reached up, hovering above you with his big body, and leaned down over your face to finally kiss you for the first time tonight. Something about your lips tasting even better once he has had a taste of your pussy he liked to say. As if you would ever argue with whatever Frank said and oh god his lips tasted like heaven, plump and perfect.

And so the night went on. You gave complete control of your body to Frank, experiencing pleasure after pleasure, him asking you questions about your week between fuckings and laughing when you couldn’t respond, your brain has turned all fuzzy and hazy.

When he pulled out his cock you sucked him like your life depended on it. Your eyes had lit up because you loved sucking his cock, and he loved watching your face look all fucked out, bubbles and saliva dripping from your mouth and chin, but he never let you do it more than once.

Frank liked fucking you and turning your body into his own work of art; cum everywhere, especially on your breasts and your beautiful face, and, as always, when he felt his orgasm coming close he yanked on your hair, pushing you on the floor and pumping his cock over your face.

God, the image made him happy. You knew it by the way he praised you and kissed your lips, cupping your face and calling you his perfect little cumslut. And he wasn’t wrong. You would love nothing more than to be his cocksleeve for the rest of your life if only he’d stay more than one night at a time.

You had no idea how long it had been. You’d blinked and suddenly you were on the floor, on the fluffy white rug, on all fours, his black leather belt wrapped around your neck, holding it in a loop tightly with his left hand, his right hand spanking your ass, marking your delicate skin red with his huge handprint, as he fucked you hard and rough, pounding inside your tight pussy, as the sunlight beaming inside from the window.

The sunlight… Oh, right, you hadn’t drawn the curtains last night because you’d liked the idea of him randomly looking through your window in the middle of the night and seeing you on the couch, grinding on your vibrator and moaning his name, a scene that he had come across at least twice last month. He’d found it delicious each time, you even more so.

The church bells finally stopped as you both lay on the rug, fucked beyond every single thought, your vibrator next to you, the belt on the floor, your hoodie on the other side of the room. He was now cuddled into you, placing soft kisses on your face and neck, finally feeling like he’d given you enough for one night, your body barely moving, the cover from the couch pulled on your naked bodies, the room filled with the smell of sex and a satisfied grin on his stupid face.

If only you could spend each Saturday night like that…

[softmutt444]

thank you @fern-writes-whump for the tag! <3 sorry im getting to it a bit late!

Last song you listened to: "Autonomy" by Boy Harsher, ive had it on repeat fot the last few days its just so good!

Currently Reading: Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo and The Binding by Bridget Collins!

Currently Watching: What We Do in the Shdows, i wasnt caught up with season 5 due to the fact that i was fully unaware it even came out so im getting through it rn

Current Obsession: other than my low key constant obsession with kavinsky from the raven cycle and some slight oc brainrot i can feel coming on not much due to being busy :/ i have however been getting into the sims again lately cause i wanna get better at building so i can make apartments for my ocs, it just sort of gives me time to think about them and allows me to get to know them through a space they would live in if that makes sense??

Tagging (with absoluetly no pressure) @burntcoffeewhump @yet-another-heathen @whumpsical @whump-mutt and whoever else sees this and wants to do it! :3

Tag Game

Thank you for tagging me @those-damn-snippets! I'll just pick a couple of the names I've been seeing around, but if you see this and you want to do this tag game yourself, please feel free to go ahead!

@catloverlawyer @zzrkpfor @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @kittensforbrowncoats @fyrenwater @schedios @blobti @spectruminterests @fern-writes-whump

(I hope you all didn't mind getting tagged!)

*

Last song you listened to: "Welly Boots" by The Amazing Devil. I can recommend that song as well as the song "The Horror and The Wild" that they recorded.

Currently Reading: Aside from Ao3 stories I'm currently reading "The Girl Who Drank the Moon" by Kelly Barnhill and so far I love it and it's incredibly pleasant to read as well.

Currently Watching: I have to catch up on the newest season on shows such as Demon Slayer, The Dragon Prince, The Witcher and I re-watched Avatar the Way of Water a couple of nights ago.

Current Obsession: Baldur's Gate 3 is very quickly climbing the ranks of me really getting hyper fixated. But aside from that, I'm currently actually really focused on my writing since I have some things planned that should be revealed soon =)

[keyz-writes]

～｡☆ | Things You Do That Flusters Them Easily |

°・ლ: Hq Headcannons🏐

(Ft. Karasuno First Years)

Side note: Don't forget to read the note at the end of this headcannon, Thank you!

Hinata Shoyo

Hinata is very loud and chattery especially when it comes to the topic of volleyball, But ever since the first time he met you he couldn't help but fluster every time you visibly beam at him whenever he's near. Of course because of this he is mostly near you all the time and it's for his selfish reason to stare at you as if he could see the little flowers floating around you.

Kageyama Tobio

I totally think this guy has acts of service for his love language. Anyways, imagine his reaction when you start doing things for him like wiping his sweat off, buying some milk from the vending machine, etc. He was very flustered from the feeling of being taken care of by someone/doing things for him. After that he got used to you just doing things for him which he deeply appreciates.

Tsukishima Kei

He really likes to rile you up, like hiding your things or annoying you just to see the cute expressions your face makes never fails to make him blush. He is also a very selfish person if he says so himself, so do expect him to be a bit possessive over you

Yamaguchi Tadashi

He definitely has a physical touch as his love language, Every time you do physical touch things like hugging him from behind or holding his hands and softly tracing the small veins on his hand makes him blush tons but the one thing that makes him go full on red like Kirishima's hair is when you touch his face and kiss his freckles. Since he got bullied because of his freckles, he just feels loved when you do it.

Yachi Hitoka

I'll be straight forward for this, She absolutely likes it when you call her nicknames that make her feel confident and pretty. She gets super shy and stutters sometimes and would mostly likely scold you to not call her that in public but would respond to it unconsciously every time. It makes her feel special when you call her those.

Note: Hello again! I apologize for uploading late!! :') It's nice to interact with you all again lol I would just like to remind you that if you have anything you would like to say to me, please dm me instead because I couldn't really view my inbox right now so whoever sent an ask I'm sorry I couldn't see what you sent T~T and Please note that I do not own the characters and they are all rightfully belong to Haruichi Furudate!! That's all if you have any requests please dm me lol Thank you have a great day/night! :D

Btw Reblogs are very much appreciated so feel free to reblog it lol

Smol edit: My dumb self forgot to do my taglist woops lol aaaa forgive mee T~T. If you want to be part of my taglist, please dm me asap! Thank youu :DD

Special Taglist: @justanunknown

© to Haruichi Furudate for these amazing characters!

Tags:

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

[inhuman-obey-me]

Excuse me! it’s just me, this blog’s stalker because your works amazing. I kinda am in love with your demon’s nature series. I if I could request something. Could you possible do MC seeing the brothers do something that is “demonic”. Similar to what happens in the series. Thank you!!!!

Hello!! Haha, thank you -- we’re so glad you like our content! ;u;

And I’m glad that you enjoy the Demon’s Nature series! It’s been a lot of fun to write.

Sorry this took a bit! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be something with one of the brothers or all of them, so I ended up doing little short blurbs for each of the brothers and MC accidentally catching them doing something demonic/violent. Tried to keep them all pretty short, which was hard.

[Mod Cosmos]

MC accidentally catching the Demon Brothers being Demonic/Violent

content warning: blood/gore, body horror (especially in Beel’s), and general violence

Note: This is through the perspective of an MC that knows that the demons do their thing, but perhaps doesn't want to see it happening in front of them.

LUCIFER

You were supposed to go shopping together after meetings for the day were finished, and he had told you to just wait an additional thirty minutes so that he could finish up some business. Thirty minutes passed, but there was still no word from him, so you decide you’ll go and see what was holding that workaholic up. You soon realize that was a mistake.

You hear muffled cries, and a familiar deep voice. Cautiously, you approach the source of these sounds -- a room located off a dark corridor. You didn’t think there were any classrooms here, and your curiosity got the better of you -- so you approach the door, peeking through the crack. You recognize the intimidating silhouette and --- there’s blood. There was another figure in the room, their body limp on the ground in a puddle of red, the mighty first-born’s claws tearing through flesh. A loss of balance in your surprise results in you tumbling into the room, earning a sharp turn from Lucifer, whose crimson eyes were wide in surprise. His wings spread out to try and shield the unsavory scene from you.

“MC, you were supposed to wait for me.” His voice is stern, but there’s a gentleness to it. He sees the queasy look on your face, and decides he can put this torment to an end. With a swift motion, he fully blocks your line of sight before slitting the lesser demon’s throat. He then turns back to you, lightly embracing your body with black feathers. His voice is soft as he did not want to frighten you. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that. Let’s get you home, shall we? I’ll make you some tea.”

MAMMON

It had just been a scratch. A low-level demon had taken a swipe at you in passing, but hadn’t been able to cut too deep. Mammon insisted he was just running off to get a bandaid after you insisted he didn’t need to go after the other demon. He said that he’d be right back--”I’m just gettin’ a bandage, I swear!”-- and told you not to move an inch. But this bandage quest was taking longer than it should have, so you go after him, pressing a loose cloth against your wound. And there he was, having cornered the offending demon. He seems to be staking the demon in the arm with a sharp metal object, speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand.

You hadn’t even realized you had dropped the Majolish bag from your hand, not until it hit the ground with a thud and Mammon whipped around to see you there. A flash of guilt appears on his features, his eyes going between you and the lowly demon. He drops them, though he can’t resist one more swift kick to their chest before running back to you.

“I told ya I’d be right back!” He’s about to cup your face in his hands, but retracts them as he realizes they’re covered in blood. “Uh, okay, let’s go get that,” he motions to your injury, “...taken care of, yeah?” He mumbles a sorry as he picks up the bag you dropped before ushering you away from the scene, promising he’d do whatever he needed to do to make up for having to witness it.

LEVIATHAN

You’re browsing games at a shop, having tagged along with Leviathan who had been raving about a new release. At one point, however, Leviathan had vanished from your side. You now realize it’s been … quite some time, actually. You wander about the store, unable to find him anywhere. Did he step outside? You decide to check, missing the anxious glance from the clerk behind the counter.

You hear some sounds from the alley by the shop. Is that … someone choking? Worried, you round the corner to make sure whoever it was is okay -- only to see the one doing the strangling was Leviathan himself. He had his tail tightly wrapped around the other demon’s throat, and … what, what was that inky substance leaking from their eyes? Leviathan caught your shadow against the alley wall, turning to you with a slightly panicked look.

“M-MC!” His tail quickly slithered off and away from the demon’s throat, leaving them to collapse to the ground. He’s suddenly at your side, hands on your shoulders as he turns you around and makes you walk out of the alley with him, murmuring something about how the venom will take care of the rest. “S-sorry about that, MC. You look a little sick … let’s get that game and go home and play, okay?”

SATAN

You had been ambling through an aisle in the grand Royal Library, wondering what random book you should pick up next to flip through idly. Satan had wanted to spend a quiet day reading and studying together, to which you readily obliged. But it was easy to forget just how large the Royal Library was -- what floor were you on again? -- and you wonder if you should head back to where the two of you had set up. Then you suddenly hear a distant crash. It seemed to be coming from one of the meeting rooms at the back, and you couldn’t help but want to take a peek to see what had happened.

“Fuck you!” You knew that voice, and you knew that anger. There was a muffled yell, and what sounded like shattering glass. Then there’s a chilling, mocking laughter, and you can feel the goosebumps starting to cover your skin. You nervously approach the slightly ajar door, and there he is, his tail impaling another demon with its sharp ridges. Oh, there is fury burning in those eyes -- ones that shift to land on you, and that glowing fury is replaced with exasperation.

“MC!” Your name comes out as a hiss, but he quickly tosses the other demon, slamming them into the wall. “You…” He’s unsure what to say, his wrath calming at the sight of you, especially with that look on your face. “I … I’m sorry, I just had to take care of something. Please, let’s go. We can talk about this later.”

ASMODEUS

The music is loud, the drinks are pouring, and you’re having an absolutely wonderful night out clubbing with Asmodeus. You were returning from the bar with two drinks in hand for the both of you, thanking one of the security guards on your way for managing the crowd of fans that had now dispersed, only to find that Asmodeus was not to be found at your table. He had left a note-- “BRB! ♡”--with lipstick on a napkin. You waited, sipping your drink as you demon watched from your seat. Some time passes, and you realize you’ve finished your drink a bit more quickly than intended. There’s still no sign of him, so you might as well go get another.

On the way to the bar, however, you pass by what you assumed was the hall to the restrooms, and you hear a desperate “I’m sorry!” cutting through the heavy bass. Should you be concerned? Well, you decide to at least be nosy, so you slip into the hall to see what was going on -- and are met with the sight of Asmodeus holding a heart he had carved out of some poor demon’s chest. In your shock, your empty glass slips through your fingers and crashes to the floor, earning your demon’s attention.

“Oh, MC!” Despite his surprise to see you, he gives you a smile -- one that gives you chills as you see blood spattered on his face. “Ah, what a mess…” He lets the lesser demon slide to the floor, debating on what to do with the organ in hand, but hides it behind his back for now, coming over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m just going to go clean up, so wait for me at the table, ‘kay?”

BEELZEBUB

You had agreed to go with him to Madame Scream’s after finishing up classes for the day, but he was running late. He’s not picking up any calls, either, so you decide to go to where his last class would have been -- maybe they were just running way over, and he hadn’t realized the time? The hall is quiet, and you end up reaching an empty classroom. Walking back out, you decide to try calling him again. Ring, ring. After a moment, you realize you can hear Beelzebub’s ringtone in the distance, and you follow your ears to where his D.D.D. and ultimately he himself must be.

You weren’t prepared for what you saw next. A head of bright orange hair buried in a lesser demon’s abdomen, the sound of squelching and slurping from his feasting sounding so much more insidious than usual.

“Beel!” You can’t help but cry out his name in shock, which causes him to jolt upright -- with intestines still hanging from his mouth. Oh, you were going to be sick …

“MC … sorry, Lucifer always says I need to work on my table manners … “ He gulps down what was left hanging, but his eyes widen when it registers just who caught him in the act. “Oh, uh, guess that’s not the point, huh … “ He sheepishly wipes at his mouth with some torn cloth that you can only assume came from his victim, standing up and walking around to block your view of the mangled body. “I’ll clean this up, and then … well, we can do whatever you want to do. Sorry, MC …”

BELPHEGOR

You’re looking around for where Belphegor could possibly be napping. Beelzebub had to go to Fangol practice and asked that you make sure his twin got home, as he had seemed even more tired today than usual. He’s not in the Western Courtyard, so you head to the Southern Courtyard next. You think you remember him saying that was one of his favorite spots…

You perk up as you spot the ever-familiar cow patterned pillow, but you fail to see the demon that was usually attached to it. Peering around the area, worry starts to set in -- and then you hear a scream. It certainly didn’t belong to Belphegor, but the gears in your mind start turning and you run to where the scream came from. Of course, no one else was around here -- it wasn’t the busiest area on campus in the first place. Turning a corner, you see just what you feared -- Belphegor had his claws at another demon’s throat, his barbed tail wrapped around their body and squeezing them tight. You feel weak, the scenario a bit too close for comfort as you recall what he had done to you in the past.

“MC?” Belphegor turned to see you, his eyes wide. He must have sensed your presence at some point, or maybe your heart was pounding much louder than you realized. He drops the other demon, growling something you can’t make out to them, and then slowly approaches you. He sees you tense up, causing him to stop in his tracks. He averts his gaze, not wanting to meet your eyes as he tries to figure out what to say. “I just … had to deal with something. You … you can head on home first, if you want. I understand.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

how much do i need to beg to get more Poe in a hoodie (with nothing underneath it as dutifully pointed out 🤤) because i am Y E A R N I N G YOUR HONOR

Alright alright I wanna be clear that requests aren't open right now but I've been thinking about this too SO To continue from this ask (and I wrote WAY too much for this so sorry I meant for this to be short I always frickin’ mean for it to be short also because it wound up being longer I tagged people)

Warnings: Yearning; fluff; smooches; sexual implications

You do not give Poe his hoodie back in-person. You give it to Finn to give to Poe—you tell him that Poe lent it to you, and that you'd give it back yourself, but you're late for a meeting, so could he just get it back to him? And Finn’s a sweetheart, so he does—is happy to, even. You spend the next couple of weeks avoiding Poe—well, avoiding being alone with him, anyway. There’s no avoiding him in meetings, obviously, but you manage to avoid him in the canteen, and in the halls, at various functions—when the room starts to drain, you’re among the first to leave. When he catches your eye in meetings, embarrassment bubbles in your gut—at the memory of the way he glanced back at you that night, and the way you walked into your door before you opened it. You always look from him hurriedly, even if he’s speaking to you, or you to him; you distract yourself with some map, or a read-out of some kind.

One night, when you can’t sleep, you busy yourself with a few repairs that you’ve been meaning to get to—some maintenance on a rarely-used U-Wing that the resistance has in store for some emergency evacuations. You’re laid out on a creeper under the propped up craft, a few tools scattered around you, a pen flashlight in your mouth.

You hear footsteps approaching, but you don’t think anything of it; the odd person has been passing by. But whoever it is gets even closer, and then stops beside the craft. You lift your head, and see feet, and then shins, and then knees, and then—a chest through a partially-open hoodie. And then Poe frickin’ Dameron is poking his head under the craft and wincing at the pen light’s beam being directed at him. He jolts back from it a little, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

“It’s late. The hell are you doing up?” He asks.

“’ant ‘eep,” You mutter, tipping your head back to look at your hands as you look up at the cross axel that you’re adjusting. There’s a pause, and then you feel the creeper being pulled out from under the U-Wing. You’re drawn back into the light of the hangar, and it’s your turn to wince at the sudden change. Poe remains crouched beside you as he plucks the pen flashlight out from between your lips with two fingers and holds just above your head.

“Wanna try that again?” He asks, brows raising. You roll your eyes.

“I said I can’t sleep. Can I have my flashlight back? I’m not done under there.”

“How much work do you have left?”

“I have to finish replacing the cross axel. Why?”

“Cause you need to go to bed.”

“For Makerssake, Dameron,” You groan, pushing yourself into a sitting position—and pointedly ignoring the sway of his chain against his chest—does the man own a goddamn shirt? He does, you know he does, he owns like two—

“Why the hell aren’t you sleeping?” You add.

“I was on my way. Saw your shoes,” Poe teases, pushing your knee with one of his hands. You avert your eyes, letting your knee sway back and forth under his touch.

“Just—Go to bed, alright?” You say, reaching out and taking the pen light from him before laying back down on the creeper.

“...Okay,” He nods, straightening, and you feel yourself relax a little, “I’ll wait.”

So much for relaxing.

“What?” You ask dumbly, sitting back up and staring at him.

“I’ll wait,” He repeats, leaning against the side of the U-Wing, “Cross-axels take a rookie, what, ten minutes to replace? Seasoned mechanic like you's gonna need five minutes, tops. I mean that’s if you’re taking your time...Drawing it out...Knowing that you’re between me and my comfy bed, and some sleep...” He speaks slowly, looking at his nails, and you sputter in disbelief.

“You’re putting me between yourself and your bed!”

“Well, regardless of how you got there, you got there,” Poe shrugs, “Hop to it, wouldya?”

You scoff, laying back down on the creeper and sliding back under the ship, grumbling all the while about know-it-all-pilots and hot-shot-big-heads and guys-who-think-they’re-too-good-for-shirts.

When you slide back out, you sit up and begin to pack up your tools.

“Alright, I’m done,” You speak up, “Go to bed.”

“You know that I heard all of that, right?” He asks; he hasn’t budged, not to help you clean up, and not to leave.

“Good,” You snip, slamming your toolbox closed and locking it, “It’ll give you something to think about when you go to bed.” You stand, taking up the toolbox and striding away from him. Your rooms aren’t anywhere near one another, but you hear Poe following you.

“...Did I do something?” Poe asks as he catches up to you.

“Leave me alone, Dameron.”

“Hey, c’mon—Hey,” He catches hold of your wrist, slowing you down. When he turns you to face him, your eyes land on his collarbone—and then they flit up to his throat, and then the pout of his lips, and then his sweet, dark eyes—Maker, there is just no safe place to look on this man— “What’s going on?” He asks softly, “What’d I do, huh? You’ve never minded me hovering before—”

“Do you own a kriffing shirt?” You snap. Poe leans away a little bit at the tone you take...And his face rapidly shifts from concern to disbelief and amusement and oh, Maker, could the floor open up and swallow you? Now would be the time—

“That’s what this is about?” He asks, and you expect a tease—you expect a barely-contained laugh from him, but his voice is low, and stunned. You open your mouth to say something else, but you can’t; the words just aren’t there. Your eyes drop to his lips again, and then his chest, and then you turn your head fully from him to look at the wall—the wall is safe. You don’t have long, though. Poe is using that grip on your wrist to tug you along somewhere, and you’re spluttering again.

The two of you reach a door, and you watch him punch in the code

and you balk—because it’s your room. Poe steps back as the door slides open, and waits for you to go inside. And then he steps in after you. He waits for you to tell him to leave. Instead, you set your toolbox down and reach around him, closing the door behind him.

Poe’s lips pull wide with a smile, and he steps closer to you. You find yourself taking a couple of cautious steps backward until your back bumps against the dresser. You swallow thickly, and Poe smiles widely as the few picture frames and nick-knacks you have wobble behind you. When your eyes drop to his chest and you guiltily look away again, Poe tuts softly.

“You can look,” He reassures softly, bracing his hands against the dresser. He leans a little closer, his nose brushing against yours, “I want you to look.”

“Is that why all of your shirts have mysteriously gone missing?” You mumble. He chuckles; the warmth of it brushes over your lips.

“Might be a factor.”

Your eyes catch on his in surprise. Neither of you move for a moment.

“What is it?” Poe asks softly. Maybe he can see your hesitance still.

“I guess I’m just...Waiting for the punchline,” You admit softly.

Poe smiles a little, raising his hand to cup your cheek.

“I know I like to make fun sometimes...Helps keep the morale up. But this?” His eyes wander your face, “This isn’t a joke, sweetheart.”

Your gut swoops, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his. Poe groans softly, tenderly cradling your face as he responds in kind. Your lips pass tenderly over one another’s as you raise your hands to smooth over his neck.

Poe steers you back to your bed and settles down, drawing you on top of him. You’d typically complain, hesitate before you climbed into bed in the clothing that you fixed the U-Wing in, half-covered in oil and grime, but you don’t care as you straddle his hips and lean over him.

Poe’s hands smooth up your thighs as you look down at him—at his chest, and the zipper hoodie. You raise a hand, and let it hover over your chest questioningly. Poe meets your eyes and nods, smiling.

And you let yourself touch, the way you’ve been thinking about. You’re careful and slow about it. Poe’s hand squeeze now and again as you skim a spot that’s sensitive, and you make a note to remember each one. When you reach the zipper on the hoodie, you tug it the rest of the way down, baring his torso to you.

Poe just tucks his hands behind his head and settles in. -- "...I’ve lost count again.” “Shut up,” You mumble, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “I think I was up to thirty-seven—”

“Okay, you are exaggerating—” You lift your head and peer down at the hickeys that now riddle Poe’s neck and chest. In the early morning light, his abdomen looks like a traffic congestion map of Coruscant.

“...A little. You’re exaggerating a little,” You finish lamely as you turn a sheepish smile up at him.

Poe chuckles, curling you back into his side and smoothing his hand up the nape of your neck.

“I’m never wearing a shirt under my hoodie again,” He sighs, and you groan in turn. “I’ve created a monster.”

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