Flood Me Like Atlantic animation that Iâm pretty proud of, Iâm obsessed with Nettles and couldnât help myself after writing most of my last chapter while looping this masterpiece. All hail Ethel Cainđ
I will eternally look for reasons to bring up how tragic they are. Why canât they just be together and in love?? (I say, keeping them apart.)
hey do you guys ever just remember that they're a group of besties. do you remember how iii had a family emergency and had to miss a portion of their tour and they called him "our brother iii" in an announcement about it and how ii and iv participated in the tlyw tribute to him as if they had already known about it and how vessel broke down during it and then later partook in the tribute himself and how iv and iii had the biggest most comforting hug at wembley. guys do you remember
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sleep Token (Band)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: II & Vessel (Sleep Token), II & III & Vessel (Sleep Token), II/III (Sleep Token), II/III/Vessel (Sleep Token)
Characters: Vessel (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token)
Additional Tags: Hugs, little bit of insecurity, Caretaking, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, another one of bubaâs specialty fragmented fics âą, making up timelines because i can, Friends to Lovers, sigh. soup. again
Summary:
Vessel loved having his back rubbed⊠caressed⊠touched. It didnât matter that much to him. He didnât even notice until his others pointed it out, couldnât pinpoint why it was such a soft spot for him. II still jokingly cursed himself for not realizing until the man had joined his and IIIâs relationship and III called his attention to it.
"It's okay to be sad, Aeon, even if you don't think you have a good reason to be." Dew says, drawing spirals in the sand with the stick he'd been using to stoke the fire in front of them, "Emotions are complicated, and sometimes we're just... Ugh, I wish I was better with words and shit..."
He gestures at his head.
"Shit's fucked up here." he states plainly, making Aeon snort, "No, but really. I could literally cry at the drop of a hat some days, and sometimes I don't even know why. More than once, I have felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown, like, I was wholly ready to just lose it... and then I took the biggest shit and I felt fine."
"Being alive is... a real mess." he continues, "Our physical needs impact our emotions, and our emotions impact our health... That's why they call stress the silent killer."
"I guess I..." Aeon starts, narrowing their eyes at the flames, "...It's a lot, being here. Being around all of you, being thrown into this position, this place... And I feel like I have a lot to live up to with Aether and..."
"...I want people to like me, but I don't feel like they do, and I just... I'm so... I just feel so fucking lonely here, and I don't know why, I-I just..."
Dew scoots over and wraps his arm around Aeon's shoulder, giving them a squeeze, not quite the full on hug they want, but as close as the other ghoul feels comfortable giving them right now.
"Well, I can tell you I like you; I like you and Aurora a lot, and I know the others feel the same." he assures them, letting go to stoke the fire again, "Maybe I'm not the best person to hear that from, Hell, I couldn't convince Sunny it was true when she was in your shoes... but I mean it. I can't lie about that sh-stuff."
"Then why..." Aeon bites their lip, "...If you like me, why don't you like me, like me?"
Dew freezes, hand held over the fire.
"...Aeon, we talked about this."
"Yeah, and I still..." Aeon stands up, "I still feel the same way. I still like you like that! I just... If you could tell me why... what's wrong with me-"
"There isn't anything wrong with you!" Dew yells, "It's me! I'm the one who has the problem, and I just... I don't feel that way about you. I haven't felt that way about anyone since-"
"...Since Aether, right?" Aeon whispers, startling when the stick in Dew's hand catches, "Dew-"
"Maybe you're right." the older ghoul says, tightening his grip on the burning wood, "Maybe I am comparing you to Aether... but I wouldn't have to if you weren't trying so hard to replace him-"
And, oh, does that sting.
"I didn't mean to say that." Dew says all too quickly, but Aeon isn't even listening to him, swatting the stick out of his hand, "Ow!"
"Idiot! You might be a fire ghoul but you can still get burnt!" Aeon shouts patting, "I don't care if you're comparing me to Aether! I already compare myself to him every time I step on stage, but I know I'm not him! What I want is for you to realize that, too!"
Aeon pulls Dew towards them, cupping his face in their hands, and, fuck, does Dew look so much more...
"Just let me try... Or tell me no right here and now."
Hahaha. So, hello lovelies! I'm aliiiivvve! And wrote a new fic in a new fandom. I still have my Young Royals fics. I'm not abandoning them, promise! Life has just been insane and we all know how ridiculous brains can be. Anyway! Welcome to my first foray into the Carry On/Simon Snow trilogy fandom.
It's steamy and a bit of hurt/comfort. Enjoy, my pretties!
Summary: Baz has a nightmare leaving him awake early in the morning. Simon stirs and finds his boyfriend with eyes open. The ensuing cuddles turn steamy until Simon gets too into his head.
Itâs not my best doodle, but I couldnât get this image out of my head today. Iâm not even sure which ghoul/ghoulette this might be. A one-frame comic, based on a possible ficlet.
Could we maybe see the angel with Zephyr? If you don't write them that's ok ofc!
Happy Sunday, sinners!
I've never written Zeph before so this was fun. I kind of wrote this as a birthday gift to myself.
Anyway, hope this is ok
Zephyr/Holy Dew wing grooming
Cw: talk about scars, Zeph is a soldier so talk of wars, threatening Michael but that's not a warning because he deserves it, Dewdrop likes thinking about bloody Zephyr, they/them Zephyr
Bellator
The first time Dewdrop had caught sight of them, he thought it had been a hallucination, his brain still foggy from being sent topside, his body aching as the demons and Terzo surrounded him. The hazy outline of wings seemed almost like wishful thinking, imagining something familiar in a place he didn't know yet.
He's still hazy with sleep the next time. The first night there, the demons wrapped around him, purring and content. He thought it was just his imagination again, the soft touch of feathers against his leg, so light it's easy to pass it off as a dream. So he does, chalks it up to fear of the unknown and he doesn't press, he doesn't ask.
When he finally sees them, actually sees them, he very nearly sobs. They are in the chapel and it's painfully fitting, the light coming through the stained glass, the rays touching their wings the way the angels fingers wish they could. They're beautiful, scarred and sure, wings folded neatly with Omega close behind, his hand hovering around the small of their back, glaring warning shots at the little angel.
And any other time he'd flinch, would bow his head in a show of unarmed submission, but Omega isn't his focus right now, nothing is except for them.
âHello Dewdrop.â
Their voice is unexpected and the angel feels it everywhere, like distant hymns and church bells carried to his ears on a magnolia scented breeze.
They take his hand in both of theirs and Dewdrop focuses on how warm they are and commits each raised ridged scar to memory and wonders how many others are hidden beneath their clothes.
âIt's nice to finally meet you. I'm Zephyr.â
He nods, there's not much else he can do and he's vaguely reminded of the feeling of seeing Michael the first time, just how perfectly made of power he was, how it stole the breath right from his lungs. But this is different, even then with Michael there had been fear, a subconscious knowing that he wasn't completely safe.
Zephyr feels entirely different.
âIts-â He clears his throat and feels his cheeks get warm. âIt's nice to meet you too. I've seen you aroundâŠâ
âI didn't wish to overwhelm you.â
He ducks his head. âThank you.â
He's not sure why that feels like something sacred, meaningful. But having someone like Zephyr, someone as revered as them giving him reverence makes his head spin and Mountain's hand on his back is the only thing keeping him from toppling over.
âZeph.â Omega's voice is low, but the angel picks up the edge in it, the sharp point aimed at him.
âYes I know.â They all but shoo him off and Dewdrop can't help but think how easy it would be for Zephyr to strike him down. Omega is big, older than most, but Zephyr isâŠ
âI'll see you soon, angel.â
Dewdrop watches them walk off, his heart pounding and his head spinning. It doesn't feel real, it doesn't feel like this was supposed to happen. Mountain takes his hand and leads him home, allowing the angel silence to make sense of it all.
âYou never saidâŠâ
Mountain shrugs. âIt wasn't my place, Engel. They wanted to give you space, I respected that.â
It's not until he's alone in his room that it really hits himâŠthat he's met and lives in the presence of one of Lucifer's Warriors.
He remembers catching glimpses of them back home, how they were never fully there just a shadowy whisper before they vanished again into the highest levels of Hell. Lucifer had talked about them with pride, telling Dewdrop about His soldiers, the ones who would defend those that lived there, that would defend him with their last breaths. He told him how they were each trained under Azazel, each hand picked by Lucifer's most trusted, the General of His army.
Dewdrop remembers hearing them once, fighting, practicing and part of him couldn't help but imagine God's army spilling into the Pit just to be cut down quickly and without mercy, willing to protect Hell more fiercely than even Michael could protect Heaven.
He'd never felt safer as he imagined blood soaked wings enveloping him, promising him it was ok now, it was over.
He shivers and thinks of the scars he was able to see on Zephyr and wonders just how many angels they snuffed out alone, wonders how many last breaths their hands claimed.
He wonders if he can taste war on their fingers, if he were to kiss each one would he still taste the copper of a kill? He wonders if they are gentle and slow or if they bite and claw and take until they've had their fill. He wants it, no matter which, if Zephyr offered he'd take anything. He'd lick poison from their cupped palms and thank them for its sweetness.
He doesn't see them again until the next Mass, he tried but it was like Dewdrop had imagined the interaction, some desperate fantasy of his own makingâŠ
But when he walked into the chapel, his eyes found them immediately. They were near the front, Omega glued to their side. They notice as soon as the angel enters, turning to look at him, a little smirk on their lips when they watch the color rise to his cheeks.
He's led to the Pew in front of them, protectively positioned between Aether and Mountain, their eyes scanning around before fully settling beside the little angel. Zephyr smiles a little at that, the way they move around him and the angel peeks over his shoulder, glancing through his long silver hair to get a look at them.
âYou're safe, I made sure.â They fight the urge to wink just to watch that blush deepen on his cheeks.
He parts his lips around a response but he stops and turns forward when Terzo enters. Zephyr watches him watch Terzo, how he listens, the way his baptismal pool eyes never leave the man that is speaking.
Dewdrop knows he's being watched, he knows when he's being scrutinized, years in Heaven had taught him what calculating eyes felt like but he didn't feel unsafe, he wanted Zephyr to watch him, he wanted their eyes on him.
He can hear them moving, the rustling of feathers shifting together and he subtly peeks through his hair to see. It's obvious they are uncomfortable, he can feel the echo of his wings, the memories of feathers twisted and needing to be groomed. Michael always took the task, firm rough fingers digging into his wings. It used to bring him at least a semblance of comfort, now it makes his stomach turn.
He sees Omega lean close to talk into their ear and he's jealous of the way his lips brush against the skin, jealous of how easily he slips into Zephyrâs space like he belongs there.
He's so fascinated by the way their wings move, by each storm sky colored feather, he wants to touch them, to worship each one, devote himself to the task of caring for them as often as they want.
Dewdrop hears them hiss and he catches their fingers curling into the fabric of their pants as Omega's hand disappears behind their wings. He wants to cut that hand off and cast it into holy fire for causing them any discomfort.
Mountain's hand settles over his and he hadn't even realized it had curled into a fist against his thigh. âThey're fine, Engel. Omega will take care of them.â
He wants to know more but he bites his tongue and tries to focus. He feels awful for not paying attention fully to Terzos sermon but he can still hear Zephyr's pinched breaths and shifting wings.
When Mass ends he's frozen in place when Zephyr growls behind him, shoving Omega's hand away.
âLet me help you, Colomba.â Omega nearly pleads.
Dewdrop has never heard him sound so soft, so adoring that it stuns him.
âI'm fine-â
âI can helpâŠâ The words fly from his lips before he has the chance to bite down.
Omega glares and Zephyr smiles. âCan you?â
He shifts where he sits, turned just enough to see them. âYour wingsâŠthey need tending to. I can do thatâŠâ
âZeph-â
âEnough.â He shoos Omega away with the flick of a wrist, cloudy grey eyes glued to the angel's face. âYou can go, Omega.â
âBut-â
âGo.â He dismisses him without a glance in his direction but Omega listens, bends to his will and leaves. Zephyr studies Dewdrop for a moment. âYou don't have to, if it's too much, too uncomfortable I understand.â
âI want to. If you'll let me IâŠI want to.â
Zephyr holds his eyes for what feels like eternity before they nod. âI would appreciate that, angel.â
They grab hold of Dewdrop's arm, linking them so they can walk together. Dewdrop notes the slow way they move, deliberate and each step calculated and sure and the angel can imagine them planning strategic attacks.
âApologies for the slow pace. Old bones.â
âI don't mind.â He smiles up at them, heart fluttering when Zephyr tightens their grip on his arm.
âWhere would you feel most comfortable?â
âMy roomâŠI justâŠâ
Zephyr just nods, needing no explanation, just allowing the angel to have whatever comfort he needs. The room can't come into view soon enough and the angel tells Zephyr to get comfortable while he shuts the door and steadies the tremors in his hands.
Zephyr stands beside the bed, waiting, watching the little angel compose himself. âYou don't-â
âTake your shirt off.â
He blushes when he hears his own words, when he realizes what he had said and Zephyr laughs, they can't help it but they do as they're told and unbutton their shirt slowly. They winch when they raise their arms to pull it off their shoulders and Dewdrop gently grabs their wrist to stop them.
âLet me?â
They let their arms fall, nodding their consent as the angel slowly closes the space between them. Zephyr wants to taste him, to kiss the nervous shaky breaths from his lips but they don't, they stand still as he moves, delicate fingers sliding under their shirt.
His hands are cool, like a baptism in the lake in Fall and they can feel the whisper of his fingertips even after he's moved them. They want to know his fingers, wants to memorize the swirling patterns on them, wants to run their tongue across the shape of them and across each line of his palm. They'd tell him they can read them, that the lines say he's right where he should be. With them.
They watch him unveil scar after scar, watch the way his eyes take in every raised pink bit of skin. They are more scar than anything else really but Dewdrop doesn't seem to mind.
âStories.â
Dewdrop glances up, big blue eyes so bright it hurts. âWill you tell me one day?â
âWhenever you want.â
He ducks his head and gestures to the bed. âMake yourself comfortable and we can start. I'm sure they are uncomfortable.â
âThey are. Normally Omega helps but it'll be nice to have someone with experience-â They bite down the rest of the words. âI'm sorry I didn't mean-â
âNothing to be sorry for. I miss this, you're doing me just as much of a favor by letting me do this for you.â
Zephyr nods and sits on the bed, groaning as they go, their joints aching from the storm moving in. Dewdrop is patient, staying back to allow them space to get as comfortable as they can.
They stay sitting up, using the angels pillow to offer support to their ribs. The first touch of his hands is shy, uncertain until Zephyr nods.
His hands are an answer to prayers and they tell him as much, bowing their head as he works on the feathers up near their skin. They can't stop the pathetic noise they make at the feeling of his hands.
âI'm sorry, I'm trying to be gentle.â
âDon't be. You won't hurt me.â They don't miss the change in the angel's scent or the way their body responds to it. He squeezes harder and Zephyr shoves the pillows edge down, clenching their teeth against a whine.
They don't talk for a long while, letting Dewdrop work on their wings without interruption but eventually their curiosity gets the better of them.
âAre they similar? My wings to yours?â In all his time he'd never actually touched an angels wings.
He runs his fingers through the grey black feathers. âYes, yours are tougher though, not as soft in certain spots. Like here,â He digs his knuckle under the oil gland. âYou didn't even flinch, mine isâŠwas... it's sensitiveâŠalmost painful.â
âIt used to be. I don't feel much there anymore, too much damage.â
âI'm-â
âDon't apologize. I'm not sorry for any scar, i'm not sorry for any fight I've fought and won. I'm not sorry for still standing when those that sought to demolish our home are not.â
They speak so calmly that it gives the angel chills and he wishes he could see it, that he could see them in action, wings flared and sword swinging drenched in blood with their fangs bared. He squeezes his thighs and tries to focus on their wings.
âMay I askâŠabout the other High Air demons? Did they tend to each other's wings?â
âYes, always. We always look out for each other. That's how a flock should be.â They glance over their shoulder. âDid they look after you, angel?â
He shrugs and shakes his head. âTo a point. Rikbiel did as often as we could get away with it. MichaelâŠhe didn't like anyone touching me. He would but he was rough, I think he was just trying to prove a point.â
Zephyr grits their teeth. âI see.â
âZephyr?â
âYes?â
It's quiet for a moment, soft fingers still moving through twisted feathers. âIn all your battles, did you ever cross him? Michael?â
âNo.â They turn just enough to catch one of the angel's hands. âIf I had we may not be sitting here like this, I would have killed him. You might very well still be flying around up there.â
âHe'd have just picked someone else to carry out my damning. I'd still be right here. I'd still want to be right here.â He smiles sadly. âI was always supposed to Fall, it never had to be Michael that did it.â
âWell.â They bring his hands up to kiss them. âIf I ever have the displeasure of crossing paths with him just know I'll make it hurt. Draw it out a little. Least I can do.â They wink and it startles a laugh from the angel.
âThank you.â He tilts his head, eyes jumping from Zephyr's eyes to his lips. âFor everything. I needed this more than I realized.â
âMe too. I'm always around, angel. Anytime you need me, I'm here.â
Dewdrop squeezes their hands and moves back to their wings, now looking more pristine. He plants a kiss to the middle of their back, smiling at the way their wings shiver from the contact against their bare skin.
He lets his mind wander just a bit to flaring wings, a swinging sword, and Zephyrs storm cloud eyes as they law Michael low just for him.
Notes: This is a D/s au, where a person being Dominant/submissive/switch is a secondary sexuality.
Summary:
âYouâll be called IV. Welcome to the collective.â After his last relationship fell apart he was left drifting, until a mysterious deity in his dreams led him to a hidden manor in the countryside. Turns out that the followers of this deity had heard of him. From the ex that they all share. IV tells himself that this is fine, he just has to play guitar for them. It's not like he isn't used to being lonely.
Read it here on AO3
Hey y'all! We're done! Some of you may lament that this fic has come to an end and it makes you sad. Which is valid. BUT DO NOT FRET! I have side fics planned, bot smutty and not, for this little verse I've made up and I've created a series in which to placed them all. So watch this space and you'll see more in the future :D
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
discoholicmusic
amandla
