#Spotify struggling to come up with anything for me
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Spotify wrapped is so funny to me bc I don't use Spotify it's like this is your top song you listened to it 6 whole times and it's just a random song from one of their play lists I don't even remember listening to
#Spotify wrapped#Spotify#Me looking at my 5 top artists like#I don't like any of you#When was I listening to these songs?????#Spotify struggling to come up with anything for me#Oifaaaposts
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#mp3#pierce the veil#ptv#chemical kids and mechanical brides#a flair for the dramatic#yipeeeee give it up for 8 seconds of silence#tried doing 5 and 6 seconds of silence a couple times then got confused whether id tried 7 seconds already or not but anyways#8 seconds works so heres me going 'ive tried and struggled and come out empty handed too many times ill just upload them myself'#for every song id like to have on here but cant seem to find anything except for spotify preview/links for
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. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.
── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.
── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333
“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”
a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.
and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.
“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”
“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.
you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.
like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”
“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”
it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.
“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”
and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.
“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”
“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”
“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”
“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”
you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”
“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”
“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”
“seishiro, you’re heavy.”
“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”
“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”
he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”
“and what’s that—”
you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.
“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”
“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”
“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”
but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.
even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.
“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”
nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.
“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”
“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.
the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.
“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.
“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”
“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”
“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”
“shut up, seishiro.”
you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.
“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.
“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”
#little novels.#nagi x reader#nagi x you#nagi fluff#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro x you#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#blue lock x you#bllk x you#bllk x reader#bllk fluff
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— roller skating
pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader
contains: romance, slightlyyy (barely) suggestive fluff, miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes
summary: you and miles go on a date to the roller rink and you have a hard time picking up the skill. you ask him to demonstrate for you and he obliges, but you’re so caught up in him that you’re not sure you learned anything at all. wc: 1,254
a/n: if you want to listen to the song mentioned while reading, i suggest you start it when you come across the spotify link i added during the exact scene it’s playing in the story. i highly recommend waiting until prompted so you can experience exactly what reader did cause chileeee. it hits differenttt like i fr made myself fall in love with this one 😭 also if you didn’t know, this is the exact vibe of a black roller rink lol. example 2
🎧: Close To You - Dreezy, T-Pain
“miles, i’m going to fall.” you whined nervously, your body basically glued to the length of your boyfriend’s right arm.
“you won’t ma, i got you.”
he laughed gently at your uneasy stance, and secretly at how terrified you were of participating in what’s been one of his favorite activities since he was a child.
his skates rolled smoothly against the floor as he guided the both of you to the rink; but yours, however, awkwardly clunked around as you settled for taking wary steps, instead of actually gliding like you were supposed to.
how you ended up agreeing to a date at the roller rink with miles was beyond you. you were someone who tripped over your own two feet at least twice a day from simply trying to walk. but with his promise of teaching you and his guarantee of going slow, your nerves had dissipated some— until you’d actually slipped the skates on and got out onto the rink.
“don’t pick your feet up mama. just push them out to the side, one after the other and lean your body forward. you got it.”
you heard his instructions loud and clear, but your brain still struggled to send the correct signals to your unsophisticated body.
you wobbled against the browned, laminated wood, not really a fan of your newfound lack of control when it came to your own legs. right hand hovered out beside you in preparation for a tumble, the fingers of your left were tightly clamped around miles’ bicep as an effort to keep your balance. you had a death grip on him, too focused on not eating shit to wonder if you were hurting him or not. you weren’t, but even if you were, he wouldn’t tell you.
“you’re overthinkin’ it.” he smiled down at you, finding your instinctive need to hold onto him adorable.
“how the hell do you do this without falling flat on your ass?” you asked, already exasperated from your short trek from the bench.
“i’m just like that.” he shrugged suavely, chuckling discreetly when your head turned towards him with a pointed glare. “practice. my moms taught me when i was eight,” he rephrased, and you stumbled suddenly, but he quickly caught you by your arm, two strong hands steadying you before your feet could sweep out from under you.
“okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” a shaky breath pushed passed your lips and somehow you managed to bring the both of you to a stop over by the wall of the rink, hand instantly finding purchase on the railing. “can you just, i don’t know… demonstrate, first?” you waved your hand around, motioning towards the other people out on the floor to get your point across. “maybe if i watch you do it, it’ll come to me easier.”
he nodded, retreating from you slowly, backwards. he gestured back and forth between the both of you with his finger, your eyes unintentionally falling to it. “eyes on me, aight?” he instructed with a subtle smirk, a sultry trace lingering in his tone.
you couldn’t take them off him even if you tried, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
you were convinced your attraction towards this man couldn’t become any stronger than it already was, until “Close To You” by Dreezy started playing through the speakers and the spot lights on the ceiling dimmed dreamily to a mellowed pink, blue, and orange— blending into a seductive mix of captivating hues that illuminated the rink. you felt yourself swoon, and had half a mind to curse out whoever was on music and lighting for aiding in the palpitations of your heart as your eyes followed your boyfriend closely.
you watched his feet first, as one fanned out in a small half-circle after the other, the movement allowing him to skillfully glide out onto the bustling rink.
how he was able to skate backwards when you had such a hard time grasping the concept of even doing it the normal way, you didn’t know. not to mention sifting through people without bumping into a single one of them. and while the technique of it all seemed simple on paper, what really impressed you was how effortless he made it look.
facing the opposite way of everybody else as he cruised, his hips languidly swayed to the beat of the music, upper body leaning just the slightest with them and you had no choice but to gawk at him— at how handsome he looked, at how good he was at this. at how his lips were absentmindedly tucked into themselves due to his focus, then unfurled to faintly mouth the lyrics.
lord have mercy.
you were mesmerized to say the least, lips parted somewhat and mouth dry. it was like everyone else had disappeared, like the two of you were the only ones in the room; time moving slower than it usually did.
once he started enjoying himself and got into a groove, he’d forgotten you were even watching him, until he caught your marveling eyes transfixed on him from across the rink, chin dropping to his chest for a beat as he simpered to himself. tongue wetting his lips, he shook his head in amusement. he already knew why you were looking at him like that.
with one foot expertly crossing in front of the other periodically, he maneuvered himself through a few stragglers with a brief look over his shoulder, swiftly spinning around a couple that happened to be in his way.
yeah, now he was just showing off.
you had no idea what your face looked like, but as he rounded back over to where you were, he laughed at your awestruck expression and called out to you.
“you droolin’, mami!”
if your jaw wasn’t already dropped from watching him nonchalantly coast around, it definitely was now.
your fingers mindlessly rushed to check, because honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if you were, only for a playful glower to settle onto your face when you realized he was messing with you.
having forgotten you were supposed to try for yourself, your eyes widened in slight panic when he suddenly skated over to you and gently took your hand, pulling you out onto the floor against your will.
“no no no no-!”
“cálmate, mama.” he drawled, his words dragging on as he shot you that same charming smile that’d made you fall in love with him in the first place. “i’ll hold you, no te preocupes (don’t worry). just c’mere,”
you gave him a look of uncertainty, but reluctantly moved your feet just enough to get closer to him anyway. he met you halfway, and snaked his right arm around your waist, expertly turning you so your backside was facing him before he pulled you flush against his body, and your teeth found your bottom lip before you could stop them.
his left arm then came around to your front to meet the other and your lungs drew in a wavered breath at the feeling of his hands resting on the soft of your inner thighs, dangerously close to having your knees buckling. your face bloomed with a sweltering heat, mind entirely corrupted by him and him only. how the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage cologne invaded your nostrils; how it felt being against him like this. lashes fluttering and mind turning to putty at the way he was holding you, your warning to him was merely a whispered reminder.
“miles.”
“shhh, i know what i’m doin’.” his response had a double meaning to it as he kept you tightly pressed to him, figure hunched over yours a bit. his breath warmed your skin and his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he spoke, his hands tapping rhythmically against your thighs to keep up with the beat of the song while he helped guide you into the same fluid movement he’d demonstrated prior.
your hands came down to rest overtop his, and you were shocked at the way your body naturally began to sway in sync along with his once you let yourself relax into him; the both of you settling into a comfortable stroll.
“see, ¿que te dije? (see, what’d i tell you?)” he teased, his voice a deep hum against your cheek. “you got it.”
- please don’t plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms!
likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗
#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse#earth 42 miles morales x reader#across the spiderverse fanfiction#earth 42 miles morales#x black fem reader#miles morales x black reader#miles morales fanfiction#miles morales prowler#miles morales x fem!reader#42 miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x you#prowler miles#Spotify
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Simon “Ghost” Riley - Love of My Life (Simon’s POV)
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4,012
Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ grinding, fingering, spitting, unprotected sex - If anything else let me know - I'm slightly brain dead writing this.
Summary: Simon comes to your apartment to end things between you.
A/N: Fueled by the song that is my top song of all time on Spotify tee hee. Babies…we know the drill. My proofreading is always little to none. This one took forever because I struggled writing the smut for this, but cheers xoxo.
find my masterlist here
Baby, you were the love of my life, woah
Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it
“Hey.” My voice sounds so fucking small and pathetic standing in the doorway of her apartment, hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Hey.” She repeats, moving out of the way to let me walk inside.
Somehow trying to breathe while getting waterboarded is easier compared to trying to breathe with the tension in the air between us.
Walking inside, I kick my shoes off as she closes the door and walks toward her room. Quietly following her it feels like walking with a ball and chain around both ankles. My body is trying to prevent me from going into her room because it’s trying to reject what it already knows.
She sits down on her bed and I shrug off my jacket, letting it hang off the back of her desk chair as I sit down on it. The silence hangs over us, she’s looking down at her hands. The way she fidgets with her rings indicates she’s nervous. It’s my fault, I’m the one who told her we had to talk.
“An-” Stopping myself before I say ‘angel’. Not the time. Never again actually. She glances up at me, chuckling softly. “Well, that gives me an idea of where this is going.” The sound of her voice lower than normal, sadness weighing down her vocal cords. The thing is, I can’t even deny her comment. Part of me wants to just say, ‘No, angel. Don’t assume that. We’re fine.’ - but, it would be a fucking lie if I did.
“This would be the part where you disagree with what I’m thinking.” Shaking my head, my eyes meet hers. “But the other part you know I’m going to agree with.” I point out, quickly shooting down any hope as if it was an enemy target. “Then just say it, dammit.” Something snaps in her, I’m the reason for it.
I’m also the reason she lays awake crying when I’m away on missions. The reason she doesn’t have a normal boyfriend who can see her more often than not. The reason she’s left anxious when I don’t reply to a text or a call in a certain amount of time. The reason she feels more alone despite having a man who has loved her more than anything in this life. I wish I didn’t live up to the name ‘Ghost’ when it comes to her, but it’s the one mission I’ve failed.
“I’m letting you go.” The only words I’m able to get out. Because there isn't anything else to say, to me it is as simple as that. She blinks a few times, processing the four words that left my mouth. “Letting me go?” She re-states, confirming what I just said. “Yeah.” I’m detaching my emotions from my words.
I take you with me every time I go away
The polaroid sat snug between my fingers. It’s replaced the pack of cigarettes I’d once itch to reach for and drag ‘til it was time for another. How is a little image the only thing that relieves any ounce of stress in my body? From one addiction to another, somehow this one feels a lot deadlier. If only she was as accessible as a pack of cigarettes. She tastes a hell of a lot sweeter between my lips that's for sure. Maybe that’s why this addiction is worse - having a taste every now and then has me crawling back home for more.
Fuck this shit. I’m fucked.
Soap nudges my arm, my attention pulled from the drug of choice in my hand. “Is that who I ‘tink it is?” He questions me. The bloody Scot knows the answer to his question. “Oi, why you asking questions you know the answer to?” A grin forms on his face. “Never thought I’d see ‘da day you look fuckin’ smitten is all. Even behind the mask it’s obvious.” And thank fuck for the mask or he’d see I look like I’ve got the worst sunburn of my life.
“You and me both it seems.” My attention went back to the polaroid, now held between my thumb and pointer finger. Brushing my thumb across the picture of her is like opening flood gates for my mind to imagine she’s right here. As if brushing my thumb over it would have her appear like a genie from a bottle.
If only it were that fucking easy.
I remember back at Johnny's place, it's not the same anymore
“Johnny, I’m not a party person.” I state into his ear as I’m trying to leave his apartment. The apartment had slowly filled with people for his birthday, but I was ready to jump out the window. “No, you’ve got to stay!” He protested, putting an arm around my neck. I huff, glancing at him. “One more hour and I’m gone.” Smiling wide, he cheered. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”
“I need a fuckin’ drink.” The words coming out of my mouth as I walk to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. A girl sits on the counter, a cup in her hand as she stares at the crowd of people filling the living room. She looks uncomfortable, but that isn’t my problem. I grab a plastic cup, pouring some whiskey.
“Are you a dad?” Her voice fills the kitchen. A dad? My brows furrow, turning to look at her. “The whiskey. That’s your drink of choice?” She asks, glancing at the cup before her eyes meet mine. “What?” The confused tone laced in my words. “All the old men in my life drink whiskey.” She slides off the counter, walking over to me. “Well, I’m not in your life. Or old.” I huff, glancing at her cup and nod towards it. “What’s your drink of choice?”
She smiles, turning the cup upside down over the sink. “Nothing, just pretending.” She chuckles. “I’m the driver tonight since I didn’t even want to be here.” Well, that makes two of us. “You know Soap?” Her expression turns into a confused one, quickly correcting my mistake. “I mean John.” Only then does she nod. “My friend is seeing him, which is why I’m here in the kitchen hiding out. I don’t know anyone out there.” Now, I can’t help but smile. “Mind if I hide with you in here?” I chuckle, sipping the whiskey.
“If you drink that whiskey, absolutely I mind. But I guess you’re in my life now, so you get a pass.” She teases.
It's unfortunate, ooh
Just coordinates, ooh
“Hi, Simon.” Her voice easing every tense muscle in my body, coming undone like a child ripping a Christmas present open with urgency. “Hi, angel.” Responding to her as I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder, sitting down on the bed to undo my boots. “How was your day?”
“Hmm,” She hums, the sound of her shifting in her sheets fills my ear as I wait for the response. “It was okay, nothing exciting.”
“Where are you this time?” She’s forcing herself to stay awake, I can hear it in her voice. Moments like this I feel selfish having her in my life. Is it selfish? Selfish to love someone who hears your voice over a phone more than they hear it raw and undistorted face-to-face. It has to be. “Mexico. It’s hot a shit.” I mutter, kicking my boots off. Her giggle on the other end puts the first smile on my face today. “What’s so funny, huh?” My brows furrow, grabbing the phone as the floor becomes the fixation of my gaze. The giggle fading as she starts to speak, “I think it’s funny I’m more concerned of you getting heat stroke with that damn mask than anything else.”
“No need to be concerned.” A stupid, dopey smile forms on my face despite how stern my voice sounds. “Easier said than done.” Her response is quick, no thought behind it or second guessing it. A sigh escapes my lips, “Angel, I mean it. Don’t be concerned.” My eyes wander around the room as I wait for her reply. Why is she so quiet all of a sudden? “Angel?”
“Yeah? Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” The sound of her sniffle followed by a nervous laugh tells me enough. She couldn’t hide her emotions if her life depended on it. “Please don’t cry.” My own voice is strained, every time she gets upset I feel worse about having her in my life. “Don’t tell me what to do, Lieutenant.” She teases, but her laugh this time just sounds sad. My upper body falls back against the mattress as I stare up at the ceiling. “Too bad. I’m telling you what to do.”
“Simon?” How do I tell her I want to hear her say my name for the rest of my life? “Yeah, baby?” I responded. “I miss you.” Fuck. My throat feels like someone is tightening a rope around it. Why can’t they just fucking cut my air supply off while they are at it?
The rope loosens, the air coming back into my lungs as I inhale and exhale out. “I miss you too.” My free hand runs down my face, dragging down to rest itself on my chest. “I’ll be home soon, yeah? Then it will just be us. How does that sound?” The thump beneath my fingers intensifies. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focus on the heartbeat. The thought of her next to me. Hiding us from the world in the confines of my apartment walls. I’m not a religious man, but that sounds like heaven. Would God let me in? Would he let me stay? I’m not deserving of either option. But, I’m getting on my knees and fucking praying for at least a few moments.
“It sounds like a plan to me.” Finally, I can tell she’s smiling again on the other side of the phone.
Baby, you were the love of my life, woah
Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it
I think standing on the edge of a cliff would ignite less anxiety in me than sitting on the edge of her right now. The familiarity of being close to death is far more comforting than the unfamiliarity of breaking my own heart so she can live life finding the love she deserves. My legs spread as my elbows rest on my thighs, running my hands through my hair.
We’ve been going back and forth arguing about breaking up for the past hour now. “So, that’s it?” Her voice punched me back into reality as I looked at her across the room. Her arms crossed as she leaned against her desk.
No. I don’t want it to be. But, I can’t be selfish. You deserve better.
“That’s it.” I confirm her question, the words coming out of me and taste as bitter as vomit. Except I want to swallow the vomit back up. My eyes go back down to the floor between my feet, scared if I look back at her I’ll swallow the vomit back up. And I can’t.
Her breathing is soft in the dark bedroom, it’s the only sound mixed with my own breathing. And the blood I hear pumping through my body at an alarming rate. “Could I have done anything differently that would have avoided this?”
God dammit, angel. You were never the problem.
“Stop that. Don’t think for a second you’re to blame.” Just look at her, stop looking at the floor, dickhead. “Look me in the eyes and say that then.” Her voice strained, my head tilted up to look at her. Sighing, I push myself off the bed, jumping off the cliff. In a few steps, I’m standing in front of her. My hand slips past her neck, slipping behind her head as my fingers tangle in her hair.
Gently, the hand tugs her hair gently for her to look up at me. “I’m lookin’ at you and I’m tellin’ you that you couldn’t have done anything.” It feels like her eyes are peeling every layer of me back, trying to look for any sign that I’m regretting this deep down. “You’re never gonna get what you deserve from me.” The sound of my voice breaking at the end is the first time I’ve let it show emotion tonight. The tears slowly built up in her eyes, my gaze locked on her. She knows I’m right. Again, it’s just something she doesn’t want to admit. “Simon.” Her voice breaks the same time the first tear slides down her cheek.
My hand slips from behind her head, both of them moving to cup her face. “Angel.” I finally just pull the fucking bandaid off and say my nickname for her after avoiding it this entire time. My head leans down to rest my forehead against hers, her own hands moved to my face. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” She begs. Thumbs wiping her tears as they cascade down. “I need to, angel. I need to.” I don’t want to, but I never deserved you. The gentle tug of my head caused by her hands, lips connecting with mine.
She tastes so sweet between my lips, just how I always remember she tastes. But this time it’s mixed with the salty taste of her tears.
She steps forward, causing me to step back. She keeps walking until my legs hit the bed, my body accepts the fact I can’t move back anymore and drops down to it. Pulling her onto my lap, her arms snake around my neck. The kiss never breaks. I think we’re both scared that if we stop that one of us will try to convince the other we can’t do this. My hands slip under her shirt, one on her waist while the other reaches behind her to unclasp her bra.
My hand stops as my fingers graze the clasp. Don’t do it. Fucking hell, don’t. The tips of my fingers rubbing the clasp to get a feel for it, like I’m trying to pick a lock. The wings of the bra separating as my fingers unclasp the hook. Successfully, the lock has been picked. Once undone, my hands move to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up. Only then do our lips separate to let the shirt pass through and give us a chance to catch our breaths. We aren’t scared this time to separate, knowing we won’t stop each other. As I pull her shirt off, she slides the bra straps down her arms and flings it to the floor.
While we are separated, I take the opportunity to remove my own shirt. Our clothes started to pile on the floor as we discarded them. Her chest pressing against mine as she moves back in to kiss me, her hips moving against me. Her skin is always so cold, it sends chills up my spine when it comes in contact with my own. My hands slip down to her hips, grabbing them as I help her move against me back and forth.
The only sound besides our kisses are the soft groans building in my throat, my pants becoming a straight jacket against my crotch the longer she grinds against me. “Get rid of the fucking clothes, fuck.” I mutter against her lips, pushing her off my lap as she stumbles to catch her balance. Reaching back out to pull her to stand between my legs, hands on either side of her thighs, running them up to the waistband of her leggings. My head leaning in to place kisses on her stomach, glancing up at her. Her own hands glide through my hair before she gently tugs, another groan leaving my as I pull the leggings down along with her panties.
It’s shitty for me to give into this. I know it is. It opens the door for us to forget about the conversation we just had, but I’m not forgetting it. I’m leaving after this.
Fingers gently graze her core, her heat radiating as I spread her folds open. My own palm faces me as her already wet cunt is begging for something to clench around as my ring and index finger rub back and forth between her folds. “Always so f’ckin’ ready.” Our eyes are not moving to look away from each other as her hands tug my hair to keep me looking up at her. “Stop teasing. Please.” She begs, her thighs trying to squeeze together but my knee moving to keep her legs separated. “You know how much I like to see you dripping before I even fuck you.” She whines at my response, but it amplifies louder as the two fingers push into her. Her knees slightly bend, causing a chuckle to escape my lips. “Weak at the knees, are you?” Teasing, I kiss her stomach again. “Ngh..” She groans, her hand reaching to grab my wrist.
Not fighting her back, she pulls my hand away, fingers already coated in her juices. I love how responsive her body is for me. Good luck to the next bastard who has to try and compete with the memory I leave her body with.
As she pulls my hand away, I tug it out of her grasp, slipping the fingers into my mouth to clean. A soft hum against my fingers. So sweet. Once satisfied, my pants are pulled down and I stand up to shrug them off my ankles. Both completely bare now, my arms move to pick her up to move her onto her bed. Hovering over her as she lays on the bed, I push her legs apart and settle between her legs. Like muscle memory, her legs bend slightly and lift to rest her heels on my lower back.
Supporting myself up, my palms rested by her forearms, but one hand moved to rest over her mouth for a brief moment. “Spit.” And just like the good girl she is, she spits on my palm as some of it drips down her chin. My palm coming up to my mouth as I also spit on it before reaching down to pump my cock. Guiding it to her folds, the tip teases her as I move my cock with my hand to slide between her folds and move side to side to tease her. Her whine again fills my ears, a smirk turns my blank expression into a mischievous one. “Say what you want.” Another order directed to her, her hips lift slightly as she grabs my forearm with one hand. “Fuck me, Simon.” All I needed to hear right now, fuck the teasing is the only thought in my head as I position myself. My hand dropped back to her side as I held myself up and thrusted into her.
Her initial cry out from the pressure filling her always sends me over the edge. I swear it might be enough to make me fill her right then and there most times. “Perfect fuckin’ fit.” I grumble, my head leaning down to kiss her. Her lips meet mine before I even make it all the way down to her, her hand reaching around my head to pull me closer. The moans from her echoing into my head as she kissed me. Palms now fisting the sheets in my hands, my hips thrust into her roughly.
Rough and slow - just how she likes it. Finding a rhythm, I stick to it and hold for a few moments every time my hips meet her skin. Burying myself in her like I’m digging my grave, except this won’t be my final resting place. I pull from the kiss, looking down at her. “Eyes on me, got it?” She nods, her eyes only closing for a moment as I thrust into her again and drag out slowly before repeating my thrust just as my tip is on the edge of losing contact with her. She whimpers, and I grab her face in my hands. “Eyes.” I hiss, her eyes opening immediately to stare at me. Her lips spread open slightly as she pulls in oxygen and exhales a moan. My grip on her face releasing, her lips parting more now that she can let air in and out easier now. “Simon.” Her voice drags out the ‘-on’, my eyes watching her as she moans my name. “You sound like an angel, you know that? You say my name like it’s a prayer.” Except I can’t answer her prayers, and I know tonight they revolve around hoping I stay.
Her cheeks look like pink paint has spilled over them, she’s never been one to blush at actions, but she acted as if my words were the sweetest thing she ever heard. “You’re so gorgeous.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it’s quickly covered by a groan as I feel her pulsating around my cock. The way her hands cup my face as my own eyes close, now she demands my eye contact to stay on her. “I love you, Simon.” She chokes out as my eyes open and look at her.
My pupils are already larger to adjust to the dark room, but I’m damn near positive they must look blown out when she says those words. I can’t say it back. We’ve never said it out loud. I’m not saying it now. So, I lean down to kiss her instead, a hand reaching down to grab her waist as I push both of us closer to climaxing. My lips pull from hers as I move town to her neck, kissing her skin. I can’t look at her now.
“I-I’m…Simon…more.” She begs, her arms wrapping around me, her nails dig into my back. Another hiss leaves my mouth as I feel her nails dig into my skin as I kiss her neck. “Angel.” I groan, my thrusts getting sloppy. The hand on her waist moves to her lower abdomen, pushing gently. Time to finish her off.
The squishing noises fill the room as she cries out from her climax that hits her. My own following after as I pull my head from her neck and look at her head leaning back in pleasure. My thrusts go until I feel the last bit of cum spill into her, pulling out of her and collapsing on the bed next to her.
It's not what I wanted, to leave you behind
Don't know where you'll land when you fly
The room is quiet, her soft breathing tickling my chest as she sleeps peacefully. My eyes are looking up at the ceiling as I try to shut off my brain and the pros and cons list forming in my head if I stay. I need to leave.
Glancing at her sleeping, I closed my eyes for a minute. Am I preparing myself to leave or remembering the image of her like this? Who am I kidding, I’ll remember her face for the rest of my life. Opening them again, my body carefully slips out of the bed. She stirs slightly, but just rolls over on her other side as she pulls the blankets closer to her body.
Collecting my discarded clothes, I re-dress myself after the events of the night. My feet quietly walk to the edge of the bed her body is facing, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “For the best.” I whisper, standing back up straight. She doesn’t move awake, but a soft smile forms on her face while she sleeps.
Fuck. I need to get out of here. And with that, I slip out of her room and the apartment. My hands are buried in my jacket pockets as I take the elevator down, eyes fixated on the doors. I’m breaking her heart, but it doesn’t mean mine is breaking any less. I love her.
But, baby, you were the love of my life
#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#call of duty#simon riley cod#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#simon riley angst
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An Ode to Serelia
[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two
[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]
[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24
[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.
[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon
[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720
𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!
[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.
Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!
Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'
(I'm very sensitive).
HAVE FUN!!
P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.
Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))
Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Illuminated in the night,
entranced by the tide,
the sailors always come to you,
such a mistake they make, too little
too late,
for they can never ever run.
Foolish mortal men,
sinking into the watery depths of
a sirens den,
for a woman in the sea
is never
just a friend.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.
The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.
The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.
A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.
Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.
Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.
'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'
It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.
Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.
To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.
You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.
During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.
They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.
Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.
Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.
How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.
The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.
The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.
'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.
'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.
It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'
'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'
'Even if we hurt them?'
'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'
You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.
By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.
You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.
You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.
It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.
They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.
You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.
Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.
In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.
Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.
Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.
Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.
Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.
You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.
Then, you hear voices.
It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.
'I found one papa!'
Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.
Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.
Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?
Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.
One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.
No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.
Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?
No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.
As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.
You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.
It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.
As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.
Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.
Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.
Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.
Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.
It's at times like this you long for your mother.
But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.
'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.
The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.
'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.
'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'
You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.
It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.
Serelia.
'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.
Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.
'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'
Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.
Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.
'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.
Her hand disappears.
You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.
The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.
There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.
The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.
You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.
In the light of Luna, you recall her face.
Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.
A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.
A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.
Not even their dastardly golden coins.
Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.
Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.
In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.
'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'
The current grows displeased.
'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.
She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'
There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.
You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.
The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.
There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.
His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.
His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.
Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.
From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.
Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.
'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.
The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.
'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'
'Sirens?'
'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.
It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.
Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.
'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'
'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.
The footsteps stop.
'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'
'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.
The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.
'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.
Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.
'Bloody lunatics.'
As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.
His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.
If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.
Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.
At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.
The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.
The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.
His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.
It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.
Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.
'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.
Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.
'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'
'Siren,' he says quietly.
It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.
Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?
The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.
'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'
'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.
'Still on the beach.'
'The beach?'
'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'
He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.
In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.
They're real, they're real and they have found one.
Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.
'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'
Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.
'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.
'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.
Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.
Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.
As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'
It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.
'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.
'Monsters you are! Let me go!'
Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.
It's as though she's reaching out for something.
Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.
Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.
Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.
Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.
'No!'
The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.
'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.
The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.
Finally, she's unveiled to him.
A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.
The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.
His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.
Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.
'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'
It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.
Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.
Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.
The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.
There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.
Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.
It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.
'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.
Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.
'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.
'We'll take it from here. '
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
You awake with a brittle moan.
Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.
Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.
With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.
Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.
Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.
You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.
The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.
I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.
'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'
The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.
The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.
Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.
Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.
'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.
You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.
Your eyes grow heavy.
You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.
Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.
His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.
His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.
'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.
Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.
'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.
You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.
The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.
You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.
It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.
Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.
'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'
There's silence.
Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.
It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.
'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'
There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.
Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.
'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'
'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.
It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'
'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.
Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.
As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.
Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.
Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.
'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.
You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.
So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.
You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.
A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.
It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.
Is that real?
'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.
You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.
Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?
'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.
You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'
Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.
Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.
Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.
'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'
'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'
'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.
He's harsher than last nights current.
Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.
'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.
Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.
Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.
You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.
A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.
'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.
Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'
'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.
The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.
Gaz. What an odd name.
The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.
Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.
'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.
Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.
Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.
If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.
'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'
'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.
His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.
'Won't you, Ghost?
The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.
'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.
You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.
It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.
Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.
'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.
You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.
The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.
'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'
You want to scream.
The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.
'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.
His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.
'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.
'Where were you goin'?' he asks.
You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.
'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.
'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'
'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.
'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.
Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.
All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.
'Get some sleep,' he says.
You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.
You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.
Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.
Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.
'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'
Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.
'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'
'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.
'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'
He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'
'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.
Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.
'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'
The man in front of him grins brightly.
'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'
'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'
'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'
'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'
'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'
'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'
His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.
'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.
Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.
Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.
He feels you tense in his hands.
'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.
His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.
'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.
'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'
Your face falters.
You're going to be here a while.
'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.
Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.
Surely it's not that difficult.
Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.
Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.
Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.
'Can you help me?' you ask.
He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.
He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.
Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.
Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.
'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.
Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.
Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.
There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.
Be nice to her, hey?
Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.
'I'll carry you.'
Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.
'Great... thanks.'
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.
Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.
During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.
At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.
It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.
It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.
'Careful,' he utters.
'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.
It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.
The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.
Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.
Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.
You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.
He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'
'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.
'Thank you, Ghost,' you say
'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'
'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.
He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.
He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.
Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.
It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.
There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.
It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.
By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.
It's difficult to adjust to first.
The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.
Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.
From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.
Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.
The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.
He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.
It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.
Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'
He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'
You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.
'Why?' he eventually asks.
'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'
The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.
It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.
He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.
'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.
Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.
Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.
Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.
Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.
While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.
Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.
You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.
It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.
Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.
On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.
They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.
Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.
'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'
'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'
'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'
You hold your breath.
'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.
He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.
'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.
'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'
His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.
It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.
'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'
You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.
'What? What did I say?'
'Nothing, Sim-'
You freeze.
The pair of you stare at each other.
'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.
'Johnny told you didn't he?'
'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'
'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.
'Simon?'
He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'
Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.
So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.
You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.
You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.
Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.
You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.
It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.
Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.
The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.
You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.
'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.
The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.
A crooked smile greets your eyes.
'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.
'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'
He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.
You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.
'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.
Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'
You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.
Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'
His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.
'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'
'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.
'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'
Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.
There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.
He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.
Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.
After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.
'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?
'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'
Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.
Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.
Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.
Death would be easier than this.
Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.
'You didn't have to,' you whisper.
'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'
Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.
Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.
Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.
You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.
'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.
He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.
Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.
He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'
He exhales deeply.
'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'
Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.
But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.
The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.
Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.
You blame the dress you're wearing too.
You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.
She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.
All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.
'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.
Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.
Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'
'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.
'You'll find her again,' he says.
Your blood runs cold.
'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'
'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.
I'd like that too.
'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'
You laugh.
'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'
'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'
You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.
Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.
The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.
Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.
'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.
'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'
'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.
'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'
Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.
These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.
Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.
'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'
The feeling of nausea hits you again.
'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.
He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.
'Can I?'
He looks at you, though says nothing.
As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.
Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.
His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.
'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.
'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'
Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.
And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.
Not even once.
Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.
Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.
It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.
You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.
Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.
She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.
The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.
Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.
Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.
Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.
The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.
Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.
Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.
It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.
Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.
'I've got work, love.'
'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'
Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.
A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.
'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'
'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'
Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.
'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.
He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.
Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.
'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.
His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'
The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.
'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.
Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.
'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'
He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'
He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.
'What's it about?'
'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'
He nods his head.
'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''
Your face is bright red.
'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.
'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.
His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'
You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.
Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.
'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.
The keys fall from out of his hand.
Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.
'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.
'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'
You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.
The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.
Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.
It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.
You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.
You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.
Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.
Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.
Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.
Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.
There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.
The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.
Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.
'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.
'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.
You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.
There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.
'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.
All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.
'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.
He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'
Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.
You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.
There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.
It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.
Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.
'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'
Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.
A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.
There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.
It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.
Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.
'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.
'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.
An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.
Then, you begin to feel him pull away.
'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'
He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.
Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'
'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.
The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.
You feel another finger against you.
'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.
It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.
You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.
You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.
You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.
There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.
Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.
It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.
Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.
Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.
Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.
Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.
Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.
'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.
You hear the shift of fabric.
Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.
You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.
'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.
His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.
A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.
It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.
Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.
'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.
Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.
I'm not going to last.
Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.
Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.
'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'
'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.
All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.
'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.
'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.
'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.
'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.
A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.
He lets out a moan as he fills you up.
It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.
A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.
Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.
Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.
'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.
You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.
He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.
You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?
You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.
When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?
Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.
He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.
'I haven't hurt you have—'
'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'
'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.
You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.
The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.
Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.
A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.
So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.
Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.
Has he left for work already?
You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.
'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.
It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.
'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'
Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.
'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.
Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.
Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.
Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.
More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.
You quirk an eyebrow.
'I thought you said it was plain.'
'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.
'You're an idiot,' you say.
'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'
'You're the reason—'
'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.
It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.
He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.
Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.
Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.
'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'
'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.
Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.
She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.
Your heart settles with the thought.
'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'
'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'
'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.
'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.
'Why don't you just let her go?'
'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'
You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.
If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.
'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.
You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.
'You my servant now?' you ask.
'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.
You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.
'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.
'Fuck off,' barks the man.
'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'
Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'
The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.
'She's dead!'
The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.
You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.
'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.
Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.
He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.
'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'
Scales.
You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.
There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.
Serelia.
The siren.
'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.
The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.
Your lover doesn't say anything.
'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.
'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.
Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.
Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.
You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.
Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.
Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.
She's okay- she's got to be okay.
You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.
There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.
She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.
You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'
Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.
Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.
Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.
Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.
This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.
'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.
'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.
Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.
You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.
A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.
'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.
His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.
You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.
You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.
'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.
Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.
Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.
Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.
Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.
'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.
Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.
He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.
Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.
'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'
You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.
'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.
You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.
'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'
Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.
Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.
However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.
'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'
He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'
'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'
'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'
'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.
He pauses.
'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'
'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'
His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.
Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.
'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'
And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.
He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.
Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.
His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.
You're in his arms and he's got you.
His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.
Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.
'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.
'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'
With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.
'I know.'
You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.
There's nothing that can be said, you know that.
Both of you do.
A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.
Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.
Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.
Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.
'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'
You mouth grows dry.
'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'
No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.
Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.
He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.
You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.
As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.
It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.
At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.
Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.
Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.
So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.
It's difficult to say goodbye.
It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.
Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.
It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.
The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.
Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.
He looks at you.
'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.
Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.
'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'
'Forever and always.'
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
You return to his home covered in blood.
He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.
While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.
A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.
And now he is scared as he looks at you.
There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.
There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.
The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.
Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.
Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.
Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.
'I love you,' you croak.
'I love you too, sweetheart.'
After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.
Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.
You cannot stay here.
For the good of yourself and the good of him.
Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.
Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.
You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.
Foolish mortal men.
You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.
Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.
Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.
Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.
How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?
And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?
Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.
But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.
You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.
It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.
The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.
Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.
You have to go, and you hope he understands.
A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.
But it's never going to be home again.
The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.
The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.
Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.
Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.
𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
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@forever-twenty-two-years-old
#call of duty#cod#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#mw2#cod mw2#cod au#task force 141#cod mwii#ghost simon riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x reader smut#ghost x reader angst#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#siren au#alternate universe
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Love You Twice
Huh Yunjin x Reader
GENRE: fluff
TYPE: One Shot
Inspired by: Love You Twice - Huh Yunjin
"Hello, is anyone here?"
A loud voice echoed from the front of the shop, accompanied by the obnoxious ringing of the bell you had left on the counter. You groaned internally, hoping for a slow day since you were still recovering from a severe cold from last week. Unfortunately, your manager refused to give you another day off, so you found yourself pathetically hiding in the storage room, seeking a few moments of respite.
"Hellooooo," the voice called out again, causing your headache to intensify.
"Yes, I'm here," you sighed, getting up and dusting off your pants. "Please give me a second."
Stepping out of the backroom, you came face to face with a girl, likely around the same age as you. She wore black-framed glasses, a face mask, and a black fisher hat.
"What can I get for you?" you asked, mustering a smile while trying to stave off your fatigue.
"Hmm…Can I have a cinnamon churro and a cup of iced Americano?" The girl stared at you curiously, her wide brown eyes fixated on your every move. After taking her money, you began preparing her order as she settled into a corner table, taking off her hat and face mask.
You set your phone on the speaker and played the hottest Korean hits on Spotify. There was something about the mysterious girl that made you think she would enjoy some K-pop songs while she waited. And indeed, when you brought her order to the table, she was fully immersed in dancing to Fearless, which you found adorably funny.
"Quite a dancer you are," you laughed, setting her food down.
The girl blushed and quickly switched off the camera she had set up in front of her.
"Thanks for the food," she said shyly, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.
"It's no problem! Enjoy," you replied, slowly retreating back to the kitchen. "Feel free to record or film anything you want. I'll be back here if you need me."
You could tell from her poised and polite demeanor that she might be an idol or celebrity. With her large brown eyes, luscious lips, and slender build, she stood out as someone more than just an average customer.
In the backroom, you struggled to stay awake, listening to muffled sounds of the mysterious stranger talking to her camera.
"Hey," her sonorous voice echoed from the front of the shop again, pulling you out of your half-asleep state. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, what can I do for you?" You quickly stood up, wiped your hands on your apron, and walked to the counter.
She gave you an awkward smile, hesitating before speaking. "Could you, you know… sit and talk with me? I'm feeling a bit bored."
You checked the clock on the wall before replying, "I don't get off until another five hours."
She pouted, "There hasn't been another customer after me, though."
You raised your eyebrows, "My boss would be offended."
"No, sorry," she panicked, "I didn't mean that no one wanted to come. I mean, the food is great. You're great, and I…"
She cut herself off, catching you laughing at her.
"Nevermind," she muttered with a huff, turning back to her table.
"Hey, I'm sorry," you called out. "I can't sit down with you because my manager checks the CCTV, but I can make it up to you with another cup of coffee. We can talk while I make it."
The brunette nodded, satisfied with your apology, and sat herself on the stool in front of the counter. There was something about you that made Yunjin want to spill her thoughts to you at the first chance; you looked like someone she could trust without hesitation. She had been stealing not-so-subtle glances at you ever since she first entered the store, though you didn't seem to notice.
"I never caught your name," you said, grabbing an empty cup.
"It's… Jen," she said hesitantly.
You sensed her reluctance, possibly due to her fame, so you respected her privacy and didn't press further.
"Nice to meet you, Jen. My name is Y/N," you said, reaching out to shake her hand. She warmly shook your hand, leaning slightly over the counter to give you her best smile with her tongue stuck slightly out between her teeth.
"Well, Jen, how do you want your coffee? Iced or hot?" you asked, a bit starstruck by how alluring she was, shyly smiling and looking at you under her long curled lashes.
Her confidence boosted at your reaction to her harmless flirting, and she winked, saying, "Steamy hot."
You snorted, trying to shake off the shivers she sent down your spine. "Coming right up."
The three hours spent with Jen were surprisingly effortless. Beyond her flirtatious facade, she proved to be easy to talk to and incredibly down to earth. She eventually confided in you, admitting that she was an idol of one of Hybe's biggest girl groups, but you treated her just like any other customer, and she appreciated that. During your conversation, she opened up about the challenges of being an idol and shared more personal aspects of her life. It felt like you had known each other for lifetimes and were just catching up on recent events.
Despite knowing that she shouldn't be sharing such personal thoughts with a stranger, Yunjin couldn't help but fall for you. Those short hours were enough for her to fall for you, and she desperately tried to memorize every detail about you within that limited time. The way your hair fell into your eyes, the concern you showed when she mentioned stalkers following her home, the way you laughed at her jokes, and how you blushed at her flirtations—all of it left an indelible impression on her. She knew that this encounter was a one-time thing, and she should forget about you after today, but she couldn't help longing for the possibility of your lives intertwining in the future.
The soft tinkle of the door opening snapped both of you back to reality. You had unconsciously drawn closer as you talked, your forearms almost touching across the counter. Quickly straightening up, you cleared your throat, trying to break free from the trance Jen had somehow pulled you into just by her presence alone. Jen seemed to be equally entranced, shaking her head slightly as she took a sip from her nearly empty mug.
A young girl in her teens bounced into the cafe with glee, her face lighting up with a wide smile.
"Anneyonghaseyo," she greeted you with a bow before turning to Jen.
"Unnie! I've been looking all over for you." She launched herself at Jen, and you could see the affection between them. “Manager-nim wants us to go back.”
"Oh, okay," Jen replied, her expression slightly disappointed that her time with you was coming to an end. She wished she could spend a lifetime with you, but she knew it wasn't possible.
"Do you want something to go, Manchae?" she asked the younger girl, hoping to prolong her time in the store, even if only for a few more minutes.
"Oooh yes, can I get a chocolate muffin?" Eunchae's eyes lit up at the mention of food.
"One chocolate muffin coming right up," you grinned, heading back to prepare her order.
As you turned away, Eunchae couldn't help but tease her unnie, repeatedly turning her head to look at Jen and then at your silhouette. Yunjin blushed and playfully pushed the taller girl away, not used to this kind of attention.
"Here you go," you said, handing the bag to Eunchae.
As Yunjin reached into her bag to pay, you raised your hand to stop her. "It's on the house."
Yunjin opened her mouth to argue, but you insisted. "As you said, we don't really have that many customers here," you winked, "I'll have to throw them out anyway."
She blushed deeper at the reference of her embarrassing mistake earlier, and you quickly assured her you were joking. Your playfulness only made her blush more, and you found her intriguing—so confident and flirty one moment, and a shy mess the next.
"I'll see you around, Y/N," Yunjin said, extending her hand once again for a shake. She just wanted some kind of physical contact with you, and her hand lingered slightly longer than usual during the handshake. "Thanks for keeping me company."
"It was nice talking to you, Jen," you replied, shaking her hand warmly. You felt a pang of melancholy as this beautiful girl you had just met was leaving. "And it was nice to meet you too, Eunchae."
Eunchae was beaming, fully aware of the conversation happening in front of her. She knew Yunjin had difficulty connecting with people and had remained single for years despite having a long line of admirers. If this cute barista was the one to win over Yunjin’s heart, the maknae was determined to support your happiness. And she usually got her way.
.
.
.
.
For the past several weeks, Eunchae had been giving Yunjin a headache, constantly thinking of ways to persuade her to visit your coffee shop. The rest of the girls caught on to Eunchae's antics, and they joined in, playfully teasing the blonde and suggesting your coffee shop at every opportunity.
Whether it was rain or shine, hunger or thirst, the girls managed to steer the conversation back to you whenever they could.
"Unnie, I'm hungry. I want the muffins at Y/N's."
"Where do you want to hold your birthday party, Chae?"
"Hmm… is Y/N's open?"
"Sakura unnie, let's get drinks tonight."
"Yesss, do you think Y/N's sells soju?"
It was all in good fun, and Yunjin couldn't help but get flustered whenever your name was brought up. However, she stubbornly resisted their suggestions and ignored the members whenever they proposed visiting your shop. The girls were genuinely curious about you, so they convinced Eunchae to take them to your shop during their days off. There, they could see why Yunjin was so enamored with you. Your sweet and soft-spoken demeanor balanced the idol perfectly.
The girls continued to come up with various schemes to turn their favorite not-couple into an actual couple, but despite their efforts, nothing seemed to work. However, as it turned out, they didn't even need to put in all that effort. Yunjin and her clumsy self, would end up making a mess and visiting you herself to solve the problem.
.
.
.
.
Your Monday started off badly. You had just finished a painful statistics class, and your professor grilled you for accidentally falling asleep. It wasn't entirely your fault; the professor had a monotone voice that could put anyone to sleep, talking about magic in a world filled with numbers. Nonetheless, he kept you after class for a whole hour, scolding you with his tone-deaf voice repeatedly.
This left you in a rush to get to the coffee shop without having the chance to grab lunch. You knew your manager would be furious if you were late.
Entering the shop through the back door, you hastily grabbed your apron and hair tie, rushing to the front. Your good friend and coworker, Wheein, leaned on the counter, teasing you with a playful smile as you tried to catch your breath.
"You're really unfit," she calmly remarked, her dimples showing as she teased you.
"Shut…" you panted, "...up."
Wheein laughed and poured you a cup of water.
"There are a bunch of people outside our store today," she said casually, her fingers tapping on the spotless counter.
Furrowing your brows, you looked outside the glass windows and saw groups of people peeking into the store, some even taking photos. You were puzzled as to why they were there.
"What are they doing here?" you asked.
Wheein shrugged, "No idea, I didn't ask. They've been there since I opened, but they never came in."
Just then, three girls entered the store, giggling and looking at you. They whispered among themselves before walking towards the counter.
"Annyeonghaseyo," the first girl said, and the other two burst into a fit of giggles.
"Um, annyeonghaseyo," you blinked, feeling slightly awkward. "What can I get you?"
"Three cinnamon churros and three iced Americanos, please."
You quickly rang up their order while Wheein started working on the drinks. As you prepared the churros, you could hear whispers and the sound of camera clicks from the girls.
Before you could ask what was going on, a few more people entered the store, all behaving similarly to the first group of girls—whispering and looking at you curiously before placing their orders.
"This is crazy," Wheein muttered, just as confused as you. The shop had never seen so many people at once, and they all seemed to be waiting for you before coming in. "Are you a celebrity or something?"
You shook your head, “If I was, I wouldn’t be working part-time in this shitty store with you.”
The blue haired girl chuckled and playfully nudged you, before efficiently handling the growing number of orders.
The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. A line formed outside the coffee shop as customers continued to flow in endlessly. You made more churros in four hours than you had in your entire two years of working part-time at the shop. The sudden rush of customers had turned your ordinary day into a surprisingly eventful one, and you couldn't help but wonder what had caused this unexpected influx of people.
It was like this for the rest of the week. Whenever you weren't working, a bunch of people would gather outside the store, and groups of fans would squeal and whisper when they saw you working. Some people even asked for selfies, which you politely declined, but that didn't stop others from sneaking photos of you as you worked. Your manager had caught on to this phenomenon and decided to schedule you to work every day that week, without any sort of raise, and extended the closing time to nine p.m. instead of the usual five p.m.
It turned out that a famous food sharing account had posted something about the coffee shop you worked at, which explained the influx of customers. But for you, it felt more like a punishment than a reward, as it brought only exhausting shifts and the constant invasion of your privacy.
Sighing, you rested your head on one of the tables you were cleaning up. It was Saturday night, and you had finally closed the store after a hectic day, serving hundreds of people all by yourself. Wheein was sick and couldn't make it to her shift, leaving you to handle everything alone.
As you closed your eyes for a moment to daydream about Jen, the alluring girl whose image had been visiting your dreams for months, the familiar sound of the door opening made you jump up. You cursed yourself internally for forgetting to lock the door after closing hours.
"Sorry, we're clo—" Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met the captivating pair of brown eyes that had haunted your thoughts ever since your last encounter.
"Jen," you said breathlessly, thinking you'd never see her again, at least not in person. After all, she was a famous idol, and her group's newest comeback had topped the charts.
"Hey, Y/N," Yunjin's eyes crinkled as she smiled at you. Her hair was now dyed a dark shade of brown, and she was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever.
"What are you doing here?" you asked, genuinely surprised to see her in your store again after months of no contact.
"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Your concern for her warmed her heart, sending tingles down her spine. Seeing you in person again, after months of longing, brought all the feelings she had tried to keep at bay rushing back without control.
She stepped closer to you to grab your hands, “I’m here to apologize.”
"For what?" you inquired, your cheeks tinged with a shade of pink from the touch of her hands.
“For the post.”
“Jen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Yunjin took a deep breath, mustering the courage to share her most embarrassing secret.
"I have a finsta account where I rate the churros that I try," she confessed, looking a bit bashful. "And someone found out it was me running the account. My fans have been visiting all the places I posted about."
"You're the reason why I've been working my ass off this week?" you blurted out ridiculously.
"Yes," Yunjin whispered, hanging her head and still holding onto your hands. "I'm sorry."
You were silent for a few seconds, and Yunjin feared she had upset you. But then, you started shaking, and soon you were laughing uncontrollably. She was confused at first but couldn't help but smile as she joined you in a fit of giggles.
"You're so lame," you gasped out between laughs. "A churro rating account?"
"What?" Yunjin pouted, her nose scrunching. "I love churros."
You were once again captivated by this girl standing in front of you. In front of thousands of people, she was Huh Yunjin, the talented idol topping charts and taking home awards. But here, with you, she was a dorky girl with a cute smile and a loud voice.
“Do you want some?” You said, “I made a few extra today.”
Yunjin nodded enthusiastically, always ready for a few tasty treats. "I am really sorry for the trouble it has caused you," she said once you came back with a bag of churros.
"It's fine," you shrugged. After all, it wasn't really Yunjin's fault. She was just a woman who liked her churros.
"Let me make it up to you," Yunjin suggested, her eyes slightly closed in anticipation. “Let me take you out for dinner today.”
She had decided it was now or never, after months of thinking about you. She couldn't ignore her feelings any longer, especially after seeing your pictures all over social media with her fans calling you hot, bringing out her possessive side. She was lovesick, and the only cure was you.
After what felt like hours, you finally said, "Sure. Let me finish cleaning up, and we can go."
Yunjin did her best to help with the cleaning, and within half an hour, you found yourself sitting in her car as she drove you to get, as she put it, the best pizza to ever exist in the world. As the car moved along the city streets, you found it hard to tear your eyes away from Yunjin's side profile. The way she furrowed her brows in concentration, the slight tilt of her head as she listened to the music, it all felt incredibly endearing. You couldn't help but feel a strong attraction to her, and the desire to lean over and kiss her grew with each passing moment.
At a red light, Yunjin turned to meet your eyes with a soft smile on her lips.
"Whatcha thinking about, pretty?" she winked at you playfully.
Without thinking, you blurted out, "You."
Both of you blushed at the sudden confession, and Yunjin cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes. Fortunately, the light turned green, saving her from further embarrassment.
Inside, Yunjin's heart was racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe that you might feel the same way about her. Summoning her courage, she reached over and gently held your hand that was resting on your lap. The moment your fingers interlocked, it felt familiar and comfortable, as if you were meant to be together.
Yunjin's hand never left yours during the entire ride, not when she reached over to grab the box of pizza, or when you maneuvered your way to her dorm. You were worried about meeting her members, but she assured you that they were outside grabbing a late dinner. Oh, how wrong she was.
Eunchae had excitedly called her unnies when she saw Yunjin sneak out, and the group decided to wait for her in the shared living room instead of actually going out for dinner. They were so eager that they could barely contain their excitement when they heard the keys jingle to their dorm.
"I think we have some soda in the fridge. I’ll go grab them," Yunjin said as she gently pulled you inside.
"Can you grab some for us, too?" Chaewon suddenly said, scaring the wits out of both of you.
You quickly dropped Yunjin’s hand and hid yourself behind the taller girl, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention.
"What are you guys doing here?" Yunjin spluttered, slightly embarrassed at being caught.
"We wanted to meet Y/N," Sakura said slyly.
"Hi," you said shyly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
"Hello, Y/N. You are as beautiful as Yunjin described," Kazuha said, throwing a teasing smile at her unnie.
"So slayyy," Chaewon added, bursting into a fit of giggles.
"Guys," Yunjin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should have known her members would embarrass her like this.
"Okay, you met her. We’re going to go to my room now," Yunjin announced, attempting to lead you away from her teasing members.
However, Eunchae wasn't ready to give up her time with you just yet. She quickly bounded over to you and grabbed your other hand, using her maknae charms to persuade you to stay.
"But I wanted to watch a movie with Y/N unnie," the maknae pouted and begged you with her puppy-dog eyes.
Unable to resist Eunchae's charm, you looked at Yunjin before nodding and saying, "Sure. What movie do you want to watch?"
Yunjin groaned again, this was going to be a long night.
The group ended up watching one of the Conjuring movies. You were cuddled up in Yunjin’s arms, seeking comfort and protection from the scary parts. It was amusing how Yunjin tried to pretend not to be scared and wrapped her arms around your shoulders protectively. You could feel her whole body shaking as she tried not to scream from the jump scares.
Under the flickering lights of the TV, you looked up at the girl you had met only twice, yet it felt like you had known her for years. Deciding to let your heart take the lead, you craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.
Yunjin’s eyes nearly bulged out at the feeling of your lips on her face, and she felt her heart pounding even faster than the jump scares had made her feel. If this was heaven, she would die happy in your arms.
Giggling at the scene in front of her, Eunchae whispered loudly, “Yunjin unnie looks like a fish.”
The rest of the members quickly turned to look at Yunjin’s expression.
“You have it bad, Jennifer,” Chaewon said in English, sounding like a sorority girl.
“Unnie’s always had it bad,” Eunchae shrugged, “Her post was like a lovesick schoolgirl.”
“Yeah, she even wrote a song for Y/N,” Kazuha agreed.
Curious, you asked Eunchae to show you the post on her finsta (much to Yunjin’s protest).
Churros were a bit sweet: 6/10
The cute barista was even sweeter: 100/10
Would definitely fall in love with her twice, in every lifetime.
I hope she felt the same about me.
Maybe if I write a song for her, she would know how I feel.
Attached to the post were a few photos of the churros you made for her. And in the last photo, there was a blurry picture of you standing by the counter, focused on making coffee.
You looked up at Yunjin, who was hiding her face behind her hands, blushing furiously at being caught. After all those months of thinking about this beautiful stranger and listening to her songs, you were over the moon to discover that she had written those songs for you.
“I’d fall in love with you more than twice.”
#huh yunjin#huh yunjin x reader#yunjin x reader#le sserafim#le sserafim x reader#gxg#kpop fanfic#kpop imagines#wlw#kpop#kpop fic#le sserafim x you#le sserafim x y/n#fluff oneshot#fem reader#huh jennifer#wherethefireliliesgrow
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Jude Bellingham/ Break up part 2
Part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5
This took me an embarrassing amount of time to complete. Apologise anyways part 2! Also this most is more so a filter chapter, i’ve decided i’ll turn this into a couple parts.
Face claim: Olivia Rodrigo
Masterlist
————-
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, jackgrealish and 3,819,071 others
yourusername Sour out now!! Go check it out on apple music, amazon music, spotify and youtube. Thank you to everyone who supported me during this hard time, i’m glad i can turn something negative into something positive.
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user It’s so good omggg
user Jude did my girl so wrong 😑
jackgrealish Congratulates y/n!
^yourusername Thank you Jack^
user My wife should never have been treated like that.
football_wags
liked by yourbestfriend, user and 12,189 others
football_wags Jude Bellingham caught making out with a random girl in the early hours of this morning, this is after his recent break up with pop star y/n. A source has confirmed there was no cheating involved in the young couple relationship but there was definitely bad blood and it was more than they were struggling with long distance. We hope both parties are okay.
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user “Guess you didn't cheat, But you're still a traitor” OMFGG MY GURL
user Fuck Jude
user The fact it was the day y/n released her album 🫠🫠
user My girl deserves better
user Fair enough Jude
yourusername story
y/n y/l/n updates
liked by user, user2993 and 129,010 others
y/n y/l/n updates Jude Bellingham has refollowed y/n. He unfollowed her after the break up but has followed her again. This comes after Jude was spotted kissing a girl in the early hours of yesterday morning. The singer hasn’t followed him back.
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user Jude don’t you dare
user DONT FOLLOW HIM BACK DONT DO IT
user He’s just trying to cause drama
user I just know his friends are sick of him.
Anyone want anything specific in Part 3? Or leave it totally up to me. Either leave it in the comments or anonymously ask it! 
#football#football imagine#football imagines#footballers#footballer#football x reader#instagram au#jude bellingham real madrid#jude bellingham instagram au#jude bellingham drabble#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham imagines#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham#real madrid imagine#real madrid#england national team imagines#england imagines#football fanfic#football x you#insta au#insta#instagram
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Kinktober 7th: Inside Joke
aka mommy kink with James Potter
3.5k words
Summary: Jamie's poker face is put to the test when you surprise him with a new toy.
Pairing: Collegeau!boyfriend!james potter x reader
Warnings: mommy kink, unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home), james wears a buttplug in public, sirius is a dance major because i said so, nipple play/sucking, slight anal play, exhibitionism kinda, cum eating, degradation with a healthy dose of condescending praise, alcohol consumption, smoking (not reader or jamie, just the people around them), overstimulation, maybe hints of cnc (jamie expresses discomfort but doesn't ask to stop or struggle), cunnilingus, finger sucking, let me know if I missed anything!
While reading, I recommend you listen to guys my age - a Spotify playlist by me!
~
"You what?"
"Did I stutter?" you crossed your legs, turning back and forth a little in James' desk chair.
Meanwhile the man in question stood dumbfounded with an unwrapped package in his hands and his jaw dropped. "I-in front of everyone?"
"Well, yeah. But it's not like they'll see it." You quirked a brow. "Unless you make it really obvious."
James' cheeks burned scarlet at the thought. "I won't." He doesn't fully believe himself as he says it, but as he stares down at the brand-new silver toy in his hands, he doesn't really care.
"Good." You stood, kissing him on the cheek. Your touch was electric on his skin, from your lips to your hand on his chest. He was sure you could feel his heartbeat racing. "Cause we're leaving in ten."
. . .
As soon as he crossed the threshold of Sirius' house, he knew he had severely overestimated his ability to be subtle. Your fingers were locked together so as not to get separated- the house was overflowing with raucous college students and blaring music- but James was using it as a stress toy, squeezing it every time the plug nestled inside of him moved. He had worked up a thin line of perspiration under his glasses and across his hairline.
James could feel the bass of the song vibrating in his feet as he walked, through the walkway down towards the living room. His ears perked instinctively at the sound of a clear, crisp whistle from somewhere deeper into the room. He glanced around until he found the familiar, wide-grinning visage of his best friend. Sirius jerked his head, as if telling him "come over here", raven hair swishing with the movement.
You must have noticed, because when you turned back from him, one hand gripping two beer bottles by the neck, you nudged your chin to signal him forward.
"Welcome, welcome, my dear comrade!" Sirius hollered, holding a red plastic cup up in the telltale grandiose joy that always overcame him when he was drunk. "And Prongs."
James rolled his eyes, unable to help the grin splitting his face as Sirius clapped him on the back.
"Sit, sit!" Sirius beckoned them to the couch, where Remus was draped over the arm, blunt in hand. The sandy-haired boy waved lazily.
James struggled to hide a grimace as he sat down, the prodding of the metal becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. He was grateful for the bottle you passed him, eager for something to ease his nerves.
"Relax, baby," you murmured in his ear, breath tickling his cheek. James' neck felt hot, the hair at the back prickled.
All he could do was swallow thickly, nodding and taking a swig.
"Good boy," you purred, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You might want to cover up a little though, hm? A poker face doesn't help much when you've got a boner."
James' eyes shot down. Indeed, there was a growing bulge in his pants.
Before he could say anything, you stood, pushing his legs apart. Shock coursed through him before you sat on the floor between his legs, arms draped over his knees and head leaned against his lower stomach.
This made it infinitely worse. Now he had a bird's eye view of your cleavage, and when you looked back up through your eyelids to smile at him, he had to bit down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. Your head rested so conveniently against his crotch, and when he shrunk back from it, the plug nestled around.
"Oi, Prongs. Y'alright?" Remus nudged the man with his foot, concern painted on his face.
"Yeah," he managed to choke out.
"Sure? You look like y've got something up your arse."
James could feel you shaking with laughter underneath him. He exhaled, shaking his head. "Just tired, s'all."
"Aren't we all." Remus nodded, head lolling over to watch the dancers- or rather, one singular dancer. "But we've got the whole summer ahead of us to loosen up."
James lifted his half-empty bottle of beer in agreement. Remus wasn't even watching, his eyes were trained on Sirius, swaying to the music. He was a dance major for a reason.
James' attention was snapped away to his crotch when you began nodding slowly to the music. You were engrossed in conversation with Dorcas and Marlene- when did they get here?- but James knew that through all your subtlety you knew exactly what you were doing. What you were doing to him. James huffed, gripping the glass bottle so tight to keep himself from holding onto your hair. He wasn't even sure what he'd do with it once he had it. Would he tug your hair away, or rut against the back of your head like a bitch in heat? He knew you'd call him that if he did, you'd call him desperate and such a needy little whore-
He almost sobbed when your head froze. His fingers itched to touch you, but he knew better than to grab your head. So he opted to look down at you. You were glaring a cold fire, so he followed your gaze across the room to some girl whose name he didn't know and whose face he didn't recognize. She wiggled her fingers at James, and as she did so, she leaned forward and pushed her arm into her tits, accentuating her already plunging neckline.
Ah, James thought. He was almost amused at your annoyance, if he wasn't already so turned on at any meager touch from you. Your hand reached under the crook of his knee to rest on his upper thigh, sending electricity shooting through his muscles.
Your head tilted up, and he knew exactly what to do without you even needing to ask.
The minute your lips touched together, mashed in a frenzy of tongue and teeth and quiet sighs, James' body was set alight. Your hand kneaded at his thigh, and he could feel you smiling- you thrived on making him squirm, and you knew when you were succeeding.
By the time you parted, James' head was swimming. He watched through lidded eyes as you licked your lips at the girl, and as the latter rolled her eyes and stalked off.
James was throbbing. He couldn't help his hips from rising up into your hair, even if his efforts were hopeless. His face was red and he was breathless.
He squeezed your hand, and you looked up in question. He didn't even have to say anything.
"Wait." You told him firmly, taking another swig.
Wait? He couldn't wait, he'd been waiting all night.
"Please," he whimpered, leaning down to your ear.
"Patience, Jamie." He hated and loved the nonchalance in your voice, the indifference.
"Need you, so bad..."
"Wait."
"Mommy!"
It wasn't that loud, barely a sigh, but it rang in your ears, scorched your belly. You scrambled to your feet, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt.
"Can't hardly wait a few hours, huh? I thought you could last longer than that." You snarled, turning and dragging him with you.
James held close to you, trying to hide his raging hard-on by pressing his front into your backside. You slithered through the crowd, around the pillar, up the stairs, and into the first bedroom you saw.
James quickly recognized it as Sirius'. Various posters were plastered almost on top of each other, so that there was more picture than wall. The smell of weed was fainter here than downstairs, and there were clothes- mostly black, but there was an occasional red or silver- scattered all over the floor. Makeup was scattered over the dresser, where a mirror was propped up haphazardly. The bed, however, was as tidy as ever, decorative pillows propped up and everything.
The click of the lock brought James back to the moment. You were standing at the door with one hand on your hip, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek.
"Go on." You said simply. Irritability was painted on your face.
"Huh?"
"Since you needed me so badly you couldn't wait until we got home, go on. You have me. Show me how badly you need me."
James' head went dumb at the idea, and his body acted of its own accord. He stood from the bed, taking your hand and pushing it into his crotch. A low moan was pulled from his throat when you cupped him, gently massaging the ache between his legs. His face dropped into the crook of your neck, relishing in the overwhelming sensations- your smell, the strain of his leaking cock against his jeans, your free hand tracing down the back of his neck. He shivered, gasping and arching his back when your finger trailed down his spine. It lingered at the base of his tailbone, sneaking under the waist of his jeans and tracing feather-light over that ticklish patch of skin.
"Mommy, please," James whined, fingers clutching your wrist.
"Turn around," you muttered, pushing him around by the waist. You walked him over to the bed until his knees hit the edge of it, trapping himself. Instinctively James reached down so he could plant his hands on the mattress, rendering himself entirely vulnerable to your will. Both of your hands groped at his behind. You reached around to unbutton his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear.
"No touching," you snapped before his hand could take his cock, bobbing heavily under its own weight. He let out a weak noise as it dripped onto the blanket pathetically.
You were still entranced with his ass, or rather, what was inside of it. Your fingers went from groping aimlessly to pulling his cheeks apart, finger trailing delicately around the little stud. At even the slightest of pressure, James' now shuddering body arched into your touch and he let out a noise so loud and unabashedly pornographic you had to clap a hand over his mouth. It wasn't until you felt the plug moving that you registered the rhythming clenching of his ass, a telltale sign that he just came.
And glancing around his body, you were right. There was a pool of white under his now softening cock, strands of cum webbing between the tip and the sticky puddle.
"Jamie." Your voice wasn't loud, nor really that stern, but it made him jump regardless.
He didn't dare look at you, but he also didn't dare fight the gentle hand of yours, guiding his face to turn back and look you in the eye.
"Jamie, baby, what am I going to do with you?" You shook your head, clicking your tongue.
It was a rhetorical question, but James gave a weak, defeated sound anyway. He wouldn't have been able to talk, your hold on his jaw having grown tight enough to hold him in place.
"I give you a nice, pretty new toy, help you stay hidden when you can't do it yourself, even start to indulge you when you can't even be bothered to wait, and you cum just like that? Without even asking?"
James knew it was a twisted description of the night's events, but shame boiled in his stomach anyway. "'M sorry, Mommy. Jus' felt too good."
You suck in a breath through your teeth. "I really thought you'd be good this time, bub. But I guess not."
James felt tears pricking in his eyes. But he was. He was so patient. You were just mean.
"Alright, on your back." You released your hold on his face.
"H-huh?"
"If you're just gonna be a needy little brat who cums whether I let him or not, I might as well get some use out of you."
James crawled, with shaking legs, up the bed, until he was propped up against the pillows, beefy legs spread enough to where you could see his sticky cock limp against his stomach and the plug, that goddamn plug that had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place.
He felt as though he were under a microscope, in a cage at the zoo, on a stage, the way you were staring at him. Hungrily, menacingly, with plans in your eyes that he was both terrified and excited to learn of. You kicked your shoes off slowly, stripping off your outer layers without breaking eye contact. James' eyes bulged when you shimmied out of your pants.
"Mommy.." he sighed, fingers flexing over his thighs as he willed himself not to touch.
"Shh, hush baby, I know," you crooned, crawling over to him. Your fingers, lithe and light, traced the underside of his dick, making him gasp. You only seemed to be spurred on by his reaction, your other hand brushing over his thigh.
"You just couln't help yourself, hm? Isn't that right?" James shook his head, resorting to clutching the comforter by his side. "Well, I guess we'll just have to work on that, won't we?"
James didn't have the opportunity to ask what you meant by that, because as you said it, you were shuffling up so that your hips hovered over his cock you were holding upwards. That was the other reason he couldn't ask you, because in his sensitivity, your touch knocked the breath from his lungs.
"Aw, pretty boy, what's wrong?" You cooed, though there was a mean tone to it. "You're so tense."
James gives a hiccupped whine, his lower lip trembling. When your hips rolled deviously over the tip of his weeping cock, his head kicked back against the lush pillows.
"Nuh uh, none of that." You snarled, taking a fistful of hair and tugging his head up so that his gaze, under hooded lids, met yours.
James' hands, now clutching your waist as though it were the only thing that would keep him from drowning- in what, he didn't know- trembled as you sunk down, slowly, onto his poor cock.
"Ah! M-mommy, too much, 's too much-"
"No." You stilled, which was somehow worse. "You're going to take it. I've been dealing with you being impatient and selfish and useless all night, it's my fucking turn."
He shouldn't have throbbed at the word, but he did. James nodded after a moment, when he noticed a tinge of concern in your eyes. It disappeared as soon as it came, and then, inch by agonizing inch, you sank down on his cock until you were sat fully on him.
You didn't move immediately, instead relishing in the feeling. Your eyes fluttered closed and you flexed your fingers over James' chest, which, oddly, seemed to upset you. Your eyes snapped open, staring down at James' chest, plucking at the material of his shirt.
"Off." You grunt, pushing the material up his stomach. James pulled the material from his body faster than he's ever done anything- anything to please you.
You seem satisfied; your hips roll against him, and James feels as though he's been set on fire. The evidence of his previous orgasm was not yet dry on the bedsheets, and here you were sitting on his cock- no, your cock. Your useless cock.
"Aw, yeah, see Jamie?" You dip down, mouthing around his heaving chest. "This is what happens when you don't wait. Mommy's going to get ther way either way, it's not my fault how that turns out for you."
James only nodded frantically, breathing heavy and yelps and gasps giving way to long, high moans. Your lips reached his nipple, and your tongue traced over the sensitive skin.
"Mommy! Please, mommy, don't stop-" James' pleas were cut off when your lips wrapped around the bud, tonguing and sucking and pulling the sweetest, most shameless sounds from the depths of his throat.
A new kind of panic settled over James as your hips sped up. He felt it in the throbbing up his cock, in the heat brewing in his lower stomach. He wasn't going to last.
"Mommy, Mommy slow down, please, 'm not gonna last," he pleaded, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he tried and failed to think of anything else. He was already denied looking away from you, but even if you'd let him he wouldn't want to.
"Oh, but you will," you purred in his ear. "You're gonna get Mommy off if it kills you."
"Can't, Mommy, 'm sorry," he wails, eyes screwing shut.
"Hold it." You grit, but the firm cant of your hips up and down his length make your orders impossible. White-hot pleasure mixed with shame washed over James as he, against his own will, releases into you.
You were fully planning on continuing regardless of whether or not he came, but seeing the way he fell into a series of jolts and falling limp, you had a lapse of pity. You could tell by the crossing of his heavy eyes that he was exhausted.
Once you were still, and James had caught a breather, he tried nestling his face into the crook of your neck. "'M sorry Mommy. I tried, I really did. Wanna take care of you, wanna make you feel good. Wanna taste you Mommy, please?"
"That's the first smart thing you've said all night, Jamie." You combed a hand through his hair. Gently, slowly, you lifted yourself off of him, rolling over and lying on your back. James was quick to follow your movements, chasing the warmth of your body despite being sweaty and sticky.
"Go on, baby," you nod, legs spreading open. You wince a little at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, but James was ever so quick to replace it. His eager tongue lapped at you, licking his own cum out of you.
"That's it, sweet boy, just like that, doing so good for Mommy."
James' efforts redoubled at the sugary sweetness of your voice. The hand that was kneading your thighs slithered between your legs, tracing around your hole so his lips could wrap around your clit, tongue laving over your skin in a manner that could only be described as hot. Big doe eyes gazed up at you, pouty and longing for approval. Your moans and praises were confirmation enough, spurring his fingers to sink into you with ease.
James’ mouth and hand worked wonders, that was never a debate, but it was the devotion and surrender in his actions that sent you barreling towards that high. It was watching him earlier as you rode him, watching him try to stave off his orgasm for as long as possible, denying himself overwhelming pleasure simply because you had asked. Your pleasure was his pleasure.
“Ah, Jamie, so close baby, so good- ah!” Your hands flew to his hair when he delivered a particularly harsh suck to your clit; bleary, blinking eyes clouded with lust watched your face contort in pleasure.
You writhed underneath him, and at this point, you were bucking your hips up into his face, pulling it so that his nose rubbed over you exactly how you needed it to.
When your high hit you, your hips stuttered, so James took it upon himself to maintain the rhythm for you, head bobbing with the movement as overwhelming pleasure set your body alight.
The air was thick with the smell of sex as you basked in the afterglow; you’d only just realized how hot your body had become when you pushed your hair out of your face.
“Did I do good Mommy?”
James was blinking up at you wearily, but he looked content as ever. A mixture of your slick and his own cum was strung between his tongue, still poking out over his lip, and your lips.
You hummed, swiping your thumb over his chin to clean him. “Of course, Jamie, did so good for Mommy.”
James happily suckled on your thumb, laying his head on your thigh.
You watched him for a while, content in the silence, until you became suddenly aware of the music still blaring downstairs.
“Oh God, wait-”
. . .
Back at home, you sat with your legs dangling over the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth. You were contently scrolling, not even paying attention to what rolled down your screen when a familiar name dropped down from the top.
Sirius “The Whore” Black: hey bestie boo
Sirius “The Whore” Black: why are my bedsheets gone
You snorted, clicking on the banner to respond. But before you could type, a few more messages popped up.
Sirius “The Whore” Black: they’re in the fucking washer
Sirius “The Whore” Black: why are they in the washer
You: Because I put them there??
Sirius “The Whore” Black: oh
Sirius “The Whore” Black: oh my god
Sirius “The Whore” Black: YOU HAD SRED
Sirius “The Whore” Black: SEC
You: Take your time
Sirius “The Whore” Black: fuck off
Sirius “The Whore” Black: copulation
You: there you go
Sirius “The Whore” Black: ON MY BED
Sirius “The Whore” Black: so I got cockblocked because of you
Sirius “The Whore” Black: Now Remus thinks I'm a disgusting slob who doesn't even have bedsheets
Sirius “The Whore” Black: I had it so perfectly made too
You: I can say with full confidence that your chances are not ruined
You: Besides
You: Would you rather I had just left the dirty sheets there?
Sirius “The Whore” Black: god no
Sirius “The Whore” Black: but I'm never using those sheets again anyways
Sirius “The Whore” Black: I'm burning the entire bed
Sirius “The Whore” Black: And you will be purchasing me a new set since you're soooo considerate
Your head kicks back in a cackle.
"What's so funny?" Came James' voice from the shower.
You scroll up so that you can show James the conversation. When you push the phone past the shower curtain, the words James reads aloud are not the ones you'd read.
"Sirius "The Whore" Black sent you an ApplePay request - €300."
~
James Potter Masterlist
Kinktober 2023 Masterlist
Harry Potter Masterlist
Main Masterlist
#james potter#james potter x fem!reader#marauders#marauders era#james potter fic#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#the marauders#hp marauders#kinktober#kinktober 2023#female reader#smut#x reader#james potter x gn!reader#james potter x you
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Muu audio drama (t2) - English TL
[ links: Spotify / YT Music ]
Behold, the longest voice drama I’ve ever posted. This thing is almost 2.3k words long. I am in pain /lh
As always, feel free to head to my ask box or my Twitter (now actually with open DMs lmao) for any questions, potential mistranslations, etc.!
Also,, Trigger warning (aside from. well. the usual Milgram things): Towards the end, they discuss another character’s threat of suicide. It’s nothing super graphic, but there sure are... opinions on it, so please proceed with caution if that’s a touchy topic for you!
⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️
(door opens)
M: Ah, it’s been a while, Warden-san. – Things have gotten tough, haven’t they… Everyone seems to be struggling and the whole atmosphere feels tense because everyone’s struggling, it’s really troublesome.
E: Is that so?
M: But as for me, I think Milgram has become a lot more comfortable! I know now that I can get whatever I want if I ask for it, so I don’t need to be so on edge anymore.
E: …
M: You did say that you and Milgram are our allies, and maybe you were right all along!
E: …
M: Aww, it’s boring if it’s just me talking! We’re talking to each other for the first time in a while, so you tell me about something interesting too, Warden-san~
E: You’re in pretty high spirits.
M: Am I?
E: I feel like you’ve brightened up.
M: Maybe…
E: But following the judgment after your first trial, the situation in Milgram has changed. And in the aftermath, Kotoko has attacked people too… From how I remember you, I would have expected you to feel uneasier than this.
M: Huh? But that has nothing to do with me.
E: What?
M: The ones who are suffering are the ones who have done bad things, right? You know, like, what goes around comes around.
E: …
M: Besides, Kotoko hurt and was mean to the people who didn’t get forgiven by you, right?
E: …Yeah.
M: Wouldn’t it be weird for me to have any thoughts on that, then? After all, I didn’t do anything wrong. You forgave me!
E: …
M: Eh? Is something wrong? Those who didn’t get forgiven by you must be bad people, if you ask me! I believe in you, Warden-san, so I’d hope you feel happy!
E: …Thanks for that.
M: See, you said you forgave me and that’s part of your job, so it’s probably right! Come on, come on, have some confidence!
E: … Speaking of which, you seem to be pretty close to Haruka.
M: …? Yeah! He’s the one I get along with best in Milgram!
E: Do you have some kind of goal with that?
M: Huh?
E: Haruka’s loyalty towards you is one thing, but with this kind of relationship, I think it’s only natural to wonder if you’re using him for something.
M: Ehh… Warden-san, do you not have any friends?
E: Huh?
M: Are there any?
E: None that I could think of.
M: Wow, poor thing,.. I’ll teach you! Friends aren’t like that, you know. Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we’re comfortable around each other. That’s all.
E: Well, I’m sorry about that.
M: Haruka-kun is really nice! He accepts anything I say, he listens to anything I tell him. For me, that’s really comfortable.
E: And that’s… “friendship”?
M: What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Haruka-kun is happy with it, so it only has benefits for both of us!
E: I, as someone who has no friends, can’t judge, of course, but isn’t that just exploitation?
M: Exploitation…? Um, I don’t really understand, but… I do help him pick out clothes [in return], and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn’t need anymore as a hand-me-down!
E: …
M: We also have in common that we’re both people who were forgiven by you, Warden-san, so I don’t think it’s a relationship that anyone could have a problem with!
E: … I already said this to Haruka, but Milgram consists of three trials, and I have only forgiven you this once. I think it’s too early to feel completely safe.
M: Eh~ You already decided to forgive me. I think it’d be uncool to be like, “Oh, actually, nevermind” now.
E: This is just how it is.
M: It’s fine already, isn’t it? You saw me, didn’t you? And from that, you decided that I haven’t done anything wrong, didn’t you?
E: Yeah, that’s right. For the first trial, that is.
M: It’s the same no matter how many times we do this. I’m me, after all. That won’t change.
E: If I keep looking from now on, will I come across something that puts you in a less positive light?
M: Eh?
E: Milgram reveals the truth through videos and music. After deciding whether to forgive you or not in the first trial, I’ll continue to dig deeper, searching for the truth inside your hearts once again.
M: …
E: For example: Things that you hid. Things that you forgot about. Things that weren’t visible through the rest of your strong feelings. Those are things that I’ll be shedding light on.
M: Hmm…
E: Or at least it might be.
M: …I don’t get it, but whatever. I haven’t done anything wrong, after all.
E: Is that so? It’s true that I’ve forgiven you once… but I remember feeling uneasy about it the whole time. Was it really right to forgive you? Aren’t you still hiding something? Things like that.
M: …Why… would you think stuff like that? That’s mean, Warden-san… You saw me, didn’t you? All the awful things that were done to me, that I couldn’t have escaped from without killing someone! I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, after I’ve gone through all of that… Warden-san, you’re mean.
E: Maybe I am. Your pain and suffering has certainly reached me. Or should I call it bullying? One-sided violence and mistreatment… I’m sure it was difficult to handle. It’s not unreasonable to come to the conclusion that murder is the only way for a weak person to get out of that. That’s exactly why I forgave you.
M: Yeah… If I hadn’t done that, I could have died some day.
E: But – are you actually that weak, Muu?
M: Huh?
E: That’s the source of my unease. Are you really that weak? Were you really getting picked on for being a weakling?
M: What do you mean?
E: How did it come to that in the first place? What was the cause? That’s what I don’t know. You could say it was conveniently omitted.
M: …
E: Even you yourself refuse to go there. Is it a topic that you don’t want to touch upon?
M: … Warden-san, I think you’re really doing something bad. Isn’t it a bad thing to act like there has to be something wrong with someone for them to get bullied?
E: Oh?
M: No matter the circumstances, it’s always the bullies who are in the wrong! Isn’t that obvious? Warden-san, you’re so smart, but you don’t even know things like that? Maybe you should take some lessons on morals or something.
E: …
M: Besides, even if I’ve done something wrong, there’s nothing that could justify bullying someone. Warden-san, I thought you were a nicer person.
E: So sorry that I’m not living up to your expectations.
M: If you’re reflecting on it, I’m willing to forgive you, though…
E: Could I ask the generous Muu to spoil me by letting me ask one more question, then?
M: What is it? If it’s a boring question, I don’t wanna.
E: Let’s say you’ve done nothing wrong—
M: Not “let’s say”! I have done nothing wrong!
E: Got it, got it. So, even though you’ve done nothing wrong – you got bullied. Why do you think that is?
M: I don’t know that! I mean, my family is rich, and my appearance stands out [in a good way], too… they probably did it out of envy or prejudice or something, right?
E: Right, right. And here I was with the theory that you were originally in the opposite position…
M: (slams her hands down)
E: …!
M: What are you saying…?
E: Just that it could also be speculated that you bullied someone and the tables turned on you.
M: Do you know what an awful thing you’re saying right now?
E: What are you getting this angry for? You’ve done nothing wrong, right?
M: Warden-san… I hate you.
E: This is just speculation. Don’t get so mad.
M: …
E: So what? Can you not give me an answer?
M: I haven’t bullied anyone. I’d never do such a mean thing! I’ve never hit anyone or poured water over anyone’s head. I wouldn’t do something like that! I’m not lying! I’m not telling you lies! I really haven’t done anything!
E: I see. I’ll take note of that.
M: … Um… um, by the way, Warden-san! I don’t know about this, but…
E: What?
M: You forgave me because I just gave my bullies their payback, right?
E: …Well… I guess so.
M: What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge can be [an acceptable motivator], right? And if you don’t forgive me this time, that’d mean that it’s not. If we leave aside the thing you said earlier about me maybe having bullied someone before – not that I actually did that, of course!
E: Sure.
M: So if I paid back what my bullies did to me, that would be revenge, right? And if you feel like I had no other choice than that, then don’t you have to forgive me?
E: … Uh… I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say…
M: You see, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of events, then wouldn’t it be bad to bully me back again in return?
E: …
M: But if you were like, “I won’t forgive you, Muu! Revenge is bad!,” then wouldn’t that imply that it’s also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me? Since we’ve all done something bad anyway, doesn’t that mean that I’ve not done anything wrong in the end?
E: …I think I’m kinda… starting to get your point… maybe…
M: … Warden-san, are you maybe not that intelligent, after all…?
E: Well, sorry about that.
M: Well, I guess it’s to be expected. You talk to a rabbit, after all. (giggles) Either way, you’ve understood that I haven’t done anything wrong, so it’s okay!
E: I sure have understood that talking to you isn’t getting me anywhere. But I guess since you made this explanation, I’ll take it into consideration.
M: Ah, but if you don’t forgive me, Haruka-kun will die, so I think it’d be best to not do that.
E: …!
(bell rings, machinery whirrs)
E: So you’ve heard about that nonsense too?
M: Yeah. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy… It made me really feel our friendship!
E: You know about it and you’re not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?
M: Why would I? Haruka-kun says he wants to do it, so there’s nothing I can do, right?
E: But you’re calling him your friend.
M: Isn’t it exactly because he’s my friend? Isn’t friendship about letting your friends do the things they want? … Are you about to tell me “that’s not what friendship is”? Then what is friendship? You’re together because it’s beneficial for everyone involved, aren’t you?
E: I don’t think Haruka is benefitting from that at all.
M: No way… It’s not like you could know what’s good for him.
E: …You sure are tough to beat.
M: I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Warden-san. It’s Haruka-kun’s personal freedom to decide what he wants to do, and I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s not like I’ve asked him to do it!
E: I see. That’s how it is, huh. You don’t say anything; just because you’re present, your surroundings’ wishes change to benefit you— Oh, so that’s it. Like a born queen. No, it’s like you’re influencing your surroundings not with words, but with pheromones… Just like a queen bee.
M: Pheromones…? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I don’t like that lewd-sounding stuff…
E: That’s not the nuance I was talking about.
M: Either way, there’s people who deserve to be unforgiven more than I do, so I think you should focus your efforts on them instead. Like, Kotoko-san has done something bad, for example. Ah, but what she did was approved by you, wasn’t it?
E: …You’re making my blood boil.
M: Anyway… I think you would do good to forgive me. Then Haruka-kun will be safe too. Ah, actually, couldn’t you just forgive everyone? Then Kotoko-san won’t run amok, and you won’t have to think about all the difficult stuff.
E: That is… a very attractive proposal.
M: Right? (giggles)
E: Abandoning all the thinking… How nice it would be if I could just do that.
M: … If you ask me, I don’t really get why you don’t do it…
E: Because this is the role I’m playing.
M: But the role was given to you, wasn’t it? You didn’t end up doing this because you wanted to, right? It’s not a dream you’ve had for a long time or anything, right, Warden-san? So there’s no need to let it tie you down. Couldn’t you just quit?
E: What are you…
M: Warden-san, we call you “Warden” because that’s what you are, right? I was assigned to be a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean my heart will become just that of a “prisoner” too. After all, I’m still me.
E: …!
M: Warden-san, are you okay? Are you feeling sick again?
E: (heavy breathing)
M: That’s because you keep thinking too much about difficult things. Just stop. Being the Warden, that is.
E: … Just— shut up, already! Prisoner no.4, Muu! Sing your sins!
#milgram#milgram music videos#muu kusunoki#milgram muu#milgram es#translation#fan translation#audio drama#the links might not work for the americans yet if you're here early bc it only comes out at midnight but. y'know#this sure is. yeah. (deep breath) yeah.#please forgive me if I messed up on the revenge-related mental gymnastics lmao my brain is not big enough for this
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hello! ^_^ can i ask for the bachelors/ettes love languages both giving and receiving thank you! <3
(Gary Chapman, the man who came up with this theory, is a Not Great™ person, and his theory is filled with justification for misogyny and other general weirdness. The podcast If Books Could Kill did a fantastic episode on it in April of 2023, you can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts under The 5 Love Languages.)
I had a lot of fun with this! I will admit I kinda ditched the OG categories, but I did stick with the theme and overall you can probably figure out where everyone would land anyway. But MORE IMPORTANTLY, thank you for your request, anon. I appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this! Also this is really fucking long!! Almost 5k words!!! Holy fuck!!!!
🍀 Everyone say thank you to my best friend and editor in chief @lendelleaves for helping me with this. (I love you! <3) 🍀
Sam is a very tactile person, and I’ve said this before, but like a giant puppy who does not know he is giant, Sam likes sprawling himself all over you, no matter where you are. If you’re lounging anywhere together, his head is in your lap and his thumb is rubbing back and forth over your thigh. There have been many times when he nearly knocked out on top of you on the couches at the saloon, but his favorite place to sprawl all over you is at home.
He often traps you on the couch, and it’ll take a lot of bargaining and bribing to get him up—make no mistake though, he knows when not to push it. Sam is so observant when it comes to family, and he learns to read you quickly. He knows when you’re lying, or when you might be pretending to be okay, and is quickly able to discern whether you need support, or some space.
When you don’t need space, Sam talks. And talks. And talks. He’ll fill up a silence like nobody’s business, or drag you out to exist in the world when you’re feeling like abandoning everything. When things are really bad though, Sam takes the reins and runs things for you. In the early stages of your relationship, he wasn’t very confident helping around the household, but he’s stepped up, and he’s gotten quite good at it.
Growing up with Jodi as a mother allowed him the space to dick around and act like a slob, and he’s a little ashamed of the way he took advantage of her. You try to remind him he was a teenage boy for a lot of that time, but he’s determined not to continue that cycle, and so his favorite part is cleaning—yes, you heard me right. He loves cleaning, because it makes him feel responsible, and it also lightens your load. When the dishes are cleared after meals, or when he’s taken care to sweep and steam the floors, he adores the feeling of productivity and accomplishment afterward. While he doesn’t expect any praise or compensation for it, he does cherish the moment when you realize you have time to relax (in a clean home, no less). He doesn’t ever want to sense the same regret from you that he did from his mother.
Sebastian struggles with verbal shows of affection, and tends to express his love with actions rather than words, but he’s kind of subtle about it. It took you a while to figure out what he was trying to say when he did these kinds of things. Sebastian is the type to cut up a plate of fruit for you after a long day working on the farm, and hand it to you wordlessly. He’ll help you unlace your work boots, rub any aches or cramps out of your feet, and make you a cup of tea—anything that could help you unwind.
He loves taking you on dates! He’s taken you quite a few places on his bike, and while he’s not a huge fan of overcrowded places, he can handle them a little more easily with you by his side. You’ve gone bowling, to the arcade, mini-golfing (which he was surprised to find he absolutely sucked at), and to a few theme parks as well. He feels braver with you around, and his confidence has definitely improved since you met. He’s not concerned with the people that stare at you while you’re in public, because he knows without a shred of doubt that you’re not interested. Especially when you buy a funnel cake to share and wipe chocolate from the corner of his lips, or win him cheap plushies at a festival. He’s got a little collection of those going, by the way (and he’s named them all after fantasy characters, obviously).
When you’re not around, Sebastian likes to play some of the voicemails you’ve left him. He never clears them from his inbox, just so he has something to remind him of you when he’s lonely, and it may or may not have resulted in his inbox being completely full more than a few times. In a similar vein, his favorite messages from you are videos and voice notes, and whether you’re telling him about your day, showing off a successful harvest, or just popping in to say hello, he replays every message at least four times before melting into a puddle.
Sebastian worried you might think it’s creepy, but he has a folder on his computer just dedicated to you, full of photos, videos, and voice recordings. He also has a candid photo of you in his wallet and refuses to talk about it, but one time you showed up at his place and found him sitting on his bed staring at it. You still don’t know how long he was like that for, and he adamantly refutes your claims of seeing him doing it at all. The walls of Seb’s office are covered top to bottom in pictures of you, and you’re pretty sure that all of his devices have you as the homescreen. It’s terribly endearing.
Alex likes spending time with you. Whether it be brushing your teeth together, doing the laundry, or loading up the shipping bin with your products and produce for the day, he’s calm as long as you’re nearby. He likes the physical reminders of your presence as well—stained coffee mugs sitting in the sink after you leave to work in the fields, the residual smell of you clinging to his clothing after you steal it, your personal items scattered around the living room, and anything else you leave in your wake. He wants to spend time with you constantly, but when that isn’t realistic, he walks into the bedroom and flops onto your side of the bed, just to shove his face into your pillow and inhale the smell of you.
When you are together, he’s always holding you. Whether it’s excitedly swinging you around in a circle in the entryway after you get back from work, gluing himself to your back while you waddle around the kitchen making dinner, or even walking through town together, he’s got to have his arms around you in some way. Granted, he’s not huge on PDA, unless someone stares at you too long and he wants to make a point, but he loves hugs, and especially playing with your hands! Rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands, threading and rethreading your fingers together, swinging your hands back and forth while walking through town, and making sure to remind you about the existence of hand cream when it’s the thick of winter.
Granny Evelyn was always very pointedly teaching him how to take care of his personal hygiene, so you can trust that he learned from the best of the best. When he is messing with your hands, you often find him admiring your calluses. He loves how strong your hands are; he says it’s a testament to your hard work and dedication.
His life is so much better with you in it, and he’s finally comfortable just existing. Of course he still cares about gridball, but the guilt he felt about never going pro has dissipated, and he’s perfectly content in his life with you. He does wish he could’ve properly introduced you to his mom, but when you smile down at him in the morning, he likes to think the sunlight kissing the top of your head through the window is his mother’s way of showing her approval.
Elliott has a wonderful way with words, but if you want my professional opinion, this man gets tongue tied whenever you’re too forward with him. The more blunt you are, the more red in the face he gets. He’s always up in the clouds, and having someone like you there to ground him so solidly in reality switches his entire perception of love and attraction. It’s such a strong juxtaposition, against what he thought he liked, that many tropes within the romance genre have actually started to irritate him—love at first sight is probably the worst offender—and it affects the way he writes his own characters as well.
Make no mistake, he’s still very much head-over-heels for you, but he doesn’t idolize you the way he did when you first met. There’s something so overwhelmingly human about you, to him, and he loves every part of it.
So, he compliments you constantly—but almost always about something mundane or silly. The way your eyes look all droopy and clouded with sleep in the mornings, the way toothpaste surrounds your mouth while you’re brushing your teeth, or when you occasionally get your jacket pocket caught on a door handle and get jerked back with the force of hurricane level winds—and once, when you were struggling to put on your boots before a full day of work, and you tripped and toppled over in the entryway. You made the silliest sound as you went down, and even though he was quick to help you up and check you over for any potential bumps or bruises, he was laughing fondly to himself for the rest of the day.
Even the way you look rumpled and filthy after a long trip in the mines makes him soft, and he always makes sure to tell you how wonderful you are. With your influence, he’s allowed himself to abandon his forced persona of perfection, and he’s never felt so authentic and comfortable in himself. He’s free to just be, and he’s eternally grateful to you, because you’ve shown him what love is supposed to be.
Shane always checks on the animals with you in the mornings, and he likes the physical labor that comes with repairing things or clearing debris from the farm on the first day of a new season. He’ll happily repair a fence or pathing, and he’s becoming more of a DIY expert himself the longer he lives on the farm with you. Shane is aware of how overworked you were when it was just you running the farm, and taking half of the shit off your plate makes him feel productive and useful—it gives him a little more purpose. He feels guilty about some of the habits he’s still holding on to, sometimes, but waking up next to you every day reminds him just how much makes life worth living.
He gets a little down when there’s nothing to do on the farm, so if you want him to have a little more pep in his step, you know to ask him to do the usual chores while you dive down into the mines for the day. You do this the most often in winter, when the crops in the greenhouse aren’t ready for harvesting. He’s grateful for the work, and the knowledge that you trust him to take care of things while you’re fighting monsters makes him feel fulfilled.
After a long day in the fields and with the animals, he likes lounging around before bed with you. His cheeks get so pink when you rub his back and give him massages, and when you shove a hand under his shirt while cuddling to rub his belly. He enjoys talking to you about anything and everything, and there have been a few late mornings because the two of you stayed up past midnight talking.
He’s gotten pretty good at cooking, too! With all the extra time and a lot more of a sense of purpose in his life, he’s allowed himself to build interest in things he didn’t used to have the energy or time for, and that includes cooking. Make no mistake, he’s still comfortable with popping a frozen dinner in the microwave when neither of you have the time or energy to make a meal from scratch, but he’s become quite the chef! He tries to cook dinner for the two of you at least a few times a week, and he melts a little inside when you do the food dance after trying any of his recipes. He’ll smile so wide, and the tips of his ears will turn peachy-pink if you dare compliment his cooking, so you make sure to do it as often as possible.
Harvey is always feeding you and making sure you’re dressed appropriately for the weather. He will absolutely run out the door after you in his robe and slippers if you forget a scarf, and a portion of your backpack space is reserved for the lunchboxes he makes you in the mornings. When you come back from the mines, regardless of how well it went or not, you have to let him give you a mini-checkup. He will not be able to sleep soundly if you don’t let him look you over, and he will nag you the entire time. He’s never mean about it, and he doesn’t treat you like a child, but it typically lasts fifteen to twenty minutes, and he might get weepy if he finds out you’ve been hurt.
He’s just afraid for your safety, and he doesn’t want his life to go back to the dull and lonely repetitiveness it was before. Despite all of that, though, he’s calmed down quite a bit. He still has anxiety, but he’s no longer choked by it, and he’s relieved to have someone in his corner who can help ground him when his brain gets a little too ramped up.
He’s still totally socially awkward, though. He loves to hold your hand, but can’t do much more than that in public, because all of his blood rushes to his face and it makes him dizzy. He loves taking walks on the beach with you, and is the type to draw a heart in the sand with a stick and put your initials in it, but he’ll immediately scribble it out if you make a big deal out of it.
In private, Harvey is a huge fan of parallel play activities; if you’re at the dining table reading a book, he’s probably going over medical papers or reading about fighter planes beside you. He doesn’t usually speak during these quiet moments, but occasionally he’ll reach over to grab your free hand and pull it up to his lips for a quick kiss. If you whine about needing your hand back, he purposely tickles your hand with his mustache and won’t let you pull away until he gets a real, full smile out of you. Since being with you, his life has become more rich and lively, and he gets more excited about things that would’ve gotten nothing more than a mild smile out of him in the past. You really have changed his whole life.
Maru pays really close attention to anything you express the slightest interest in. If you mention a particular candy that you’ve become obsessed with, she buys a full box the next day. If you mention liking a particular recipe, she’ll make it as often as possible until you get sick of it, and then she’ll move onto the next interest. The few times you took her to the city to visit your family, she made sure to take note of anything you looked at twice in any shop so she could buy it for you later. She’s surprised you with plenty of gifts this way, but there have also been a few times where she made the thing herself, and was very proud to say that her version was both better and worked smoother.
Your farm has become a lot more automated, due to the sheer amount of tech and machines she’s built. She wants to make the harvesting process as smooth and as light in labor as possible, so that you have more time for yourself and your interests. She watched her mother’s physical state deteriorate over the years due to how often she’s lugging giant logs around, and doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you, so she’s constantly looking for new ways to lighten your load.
She loves info dumping about her newest inventions or discoveries, and her favorite shared activity is stargazing. You commissioned Robin for a rooftop deck shortly after moving in together, and there have been many nights spent up there, with you pointing out different stars to Maru and allowing her to go on and on about nebulae, star systems, and giant interstellar clouds. She loves answering all of your questions, and never belittles you for not knowing something, or for asking an “obvious” question. It helps her brush up on her own knowledge as well!
Beyond that, she likes roping you into shitty movie marathons. She’ll pop a few bags of popcorn and get out several bowls of snacks, and maybe if you’re feeling frisky she may just bust out a bottle of wine to enjoy between the two of you. She doesn’t think the movies are fantastic, but that’s the point! Her favorite parts are when she looks over at you after a particularly ridiculous scene, and she gets to watch you go through the five stages of grief in as many seconds. You’ve created a fair amount of inside jokes through this little ritual of yours, and it always makes her laugh, no matter how ridiculous the references are.
Penny takes immense care of the farmhouse, and loves decorating and redecorating your spaces. She’s always looking for the coziest pillows, or the prettiest wallpaper, and she includes you in every step of the process. If there’s anything you don’t jive with, or something you want to get done on the house but can never get to with all the other work you’re constantly doing, have no fear, because Penny will either find a contractor (Robin) to complete the project, or she’ll pick up a hammer and do it herself.
She likes being a homemaker, and she’s good at it, and seeing you enjoy or react positively to any renovations and additions will make her whole month. You especially enjoy the home library she’s curated, because it’s by far the coziest room in the house, and because that’s where she loves to read to you—it’s something of a nightly routine for you both. After you’re finished getting ready for bed, she’ll sit on the thrifted chaise she restored, wait for you to get comfortable against her shoulder, and she’ll read until you’re sleepy enough to go to bed. (Sometimes you do pass out in there though.)
Your library is full of annotated books she’s given you, though she uses sticky notes to avoid writing directly on the pages, she will write an inscription inside the front cover with a short address to you about why she thought you’d like it. It’s pretty sweet, especially when she gives you romance books and explains with bright red cheeks that the main love interest reminded her of you. That’s always a cute moment, even though you’re a little shit sometimes and will quote the love interest in private moments, just to fluster her.
Penny secretly likes it, though—especially when you try to woo her. Whether it be with roses, dates, gifts, or flowery words, she loves every bit of it. Even though you’re together and she isn’t going anywhere, you don’t abandon those habits later on, and it reassures her. She initially figured the effort would be too much for someone as busy as you, but you always make time and plan romantic things for her, and she’s happy to know that her romance novels aren’t wholly fictional. You’re living proof of that.
Abigail has softened up quite a bit during her relationship with you. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still pretty passionate and bullheaded, but overall, she’s much calmer. She’s comfortable being herself and doesn’t feel the need to get defensive about who she is or what her interests are anymore, and it’s opened up a lot of avenues of self expression for her. She tries new things all the time, and she’s never shy about sharing her experiences or the results of them, because she knows you’re not going to judge her for it.
But because she feels so secure with you, she’s much more comfortable showing affection without fear of rejection or humiliation. That said, she stares at you a lot. Before you may have gotten a pillow launched at your face for bringing it up, but now she’s perfectly okay with being caught. She actually uses it to her advantage most of the time, and will take the opportunity to compliment you, like, “What, I can’t stare at the love of my life?”
She loves flustering you. It’s mostly genuine, but she does do it just to be a little shit sometimes. When you play video games together (especially ones where you’re competing), she’ll grab your face and pull you into a kiss just to get ahead. It works 90% of the time, even when you know what she’s trying to do. She thinks it’s really cute, and loves seeing you get all worked up when she messes with you like that, but sometimes she does get lost in it and will abandon the game entirely.
On a more serious note, Abigail never lets you go down into the mines without her. She hates having to hear from Harvey, and she’d rather be there with you to prevent any accidents or injuries. It’s easier to get through the shafts with a second pair of eyes and another sword handy, so you’re alright with it—and another upside is that you’re never short on ore and coal anymore. When you get out of the mines afterward, she always suggests a dip in the spa. It helps you both relax and recuperate after a lengthy trip, and she gets to see you in a swimsuit. She may like the second part more, but hey, can you blame her? She thinks you’re hot, let her stare a bit more.
Haley is extremely tactile with her affection—she was pretty embarrassed about it at first, and tried to keep it at bay initially, but it caused some problems early on and that talk was not fun, so she doesn’t repress it anymore. If she wants to kiss you, she’ll ask for it, and the same can be said for any other physical affection. She wants you as close as possible a lot of the time, and when you do meet her need for touch, she all but turns into a cat.
She’ll push her face as far into your chest as it’ll go, latch herself onto your torso with all her strength, and if she’s feeling particularly goofy, she’ll jump into your arms like a koala. It’s very silly (and incredibly endearing), and she always giggles uncontrollably when you drop everything you’re doing to support her weight. She always warns you beforehand, and she does know when it isn’t safe or appropriate, so rest assured nothing goes wrong when she does decide to launch herself at you. Her favorite part about those moments is when you finally get a good grip on her. Again, she’s a tactile lover first and foremost, so your touch is going to make her happy no matter what.
Besides touch, she likes how little you care about her appearance—make no mistake, she does appreciate when you take notice of all the effort she puts into her appearance—but she loves it when you wake her up in the mornings with a kiss, uncaring of her morning breath and eye crust. Like, sure, she grew up attractive and wealthy, and that meant she was popular, but it also meant she was highly criticized for everything she did. She could never have a blemish, a single hair out of place, or an embarrassing moment, and if she did, she’d be verbally torn to shreds. Always the topic of gossip, she learned to close herself off and pretend, pretend, pretend; but with you, she doesn’t need to.
She doesn’t feel the need to go to sleep with a full-face of makeup on, the way she did when she spent the night at her previous boyfriends’ places, and she’s perfectly content lounging around the house with a bare face and a tangled bun piled on top of her head. She can make all the hideous faces she needs to when applying her makeup and not agonize over whether you’ll still love her afterward. You’ve allowed her the space to let loose and let herself be imperfect, and it’s comfortable. She’s happier than she’s ever been, and a lot of it is thanks to you.
Leah is an artist, and it permeates her entire life—including the ways she loves you. She wants to make art out of you in a million ways, especially tactile ones, like braiding your hair or helping you dress yourself. She frequently stops you at the door before you head out for work, and she’ll fix your shirt collar or put your hat on for you, and adjust your hair until it lays perfectly.
She has paintings of you scattered around the house, but they aren’t always portraits. If you look hard enough, you can find hints of her love for you in all the art she creates; a canvas covered in your favorite flowers, a picture painted only with your favorite color, or subtle snapshots of your life together. She does have a portrait of you above her work desk, though, and it is by far her favorite piece. (She has rejected multiple offers for it, and she always will.)
She loves working on her art projects while you watch, and it’s become something of an inconsistent routine for the both of you. It started after dinner one night, when she was cracking down on a deadline for a commission, but you still wanted to keep her company. Not wanting to leave you hanging, she grabbed two glasses of wine, and you sat comfortably on her studio couch while she painted the piece for her client. She never demands silence from you in these moments, but when you are quiet, it’s easier for her to fall into the cozy atmosphere. Her work often feels less stressful with you watching, because if she gets overwhelmed or irritated with stubborn mediums, she can just flop next to you and take her mind off of the problem.
When you’re not home and she has no immediate commissions, she paints tiny hidden meadows on your furniture: on the bottom leg of your dining table, the inside door of a dish cabinet, the underside of your desk, the top of your front door, and even around the farm as well. She’s always so excited when you find another mini-meadow, and it’s like a special treasure hunt for the two of you. She’s gotten pretty good at hiding them, and she’s quite sneaky about it—except for the one time she fell into the pig pen trying to paint on the rafters in the barn—but that’s neither here nor there. (Don’t let her find the picture on your phone!)
Emily is like a crow. You’ve developed a mini collection of random trinkets, rocks, sea glass, shells, and feathers over the course of your relationship, all found and gifted to you by Emily. She sees a pretty shiny thing and immediately thinks of you. Sometimes she follows you around during your daily errands, just to keep you company. She absolutely steps in to lighten your load when you need it (or rather, when you let her), but usually she’s fine just listening to you talk, and vice versa.
She also likes taking care of you. Emily makes her own homemade soap and body oils, and if you’re ever worn out after a particularly long day, she’ll set up a mini-spa for you, and pamper you for however long it takes to wring out any lingering aches and pains. She’ll bust out dried flower petals and draw a bath for you, making sure to light candles and turn on a diffuser filled with calming oils to help you relax while you bathe. She doesn't want you to lift a single finger, and she may go so far as to dress and feed you after a bath; she likes to use warming oils and massage your entire body before bed. It’s both very vulnerable and incredibly relaxing—but that is her goal, after all—and she always finishes off her pampering with a healthy dose of kisses pressed all over your face.
While not everyone has as strong a connection to the spiritual side of the world, Emily does—and she likes sharing that with the people she cares about. Regardless of whether or not someone believes in the same things she does, she likes to look over your birth chart and horoscopes together, and sometimes she’ll do a tarot card reading for you, just for fun. She’s aware that people think she’s weird for being into these things, but you’ve never shut her down or made fun of her for her interests, and she’s both grateful and overwhelmed by how it makes her feel. No one else has taken such care to understand her, and she feels safe enough to be her most authentic self when you’re around each other.
It’s also why she likes to dance with you! Whether it be a little dance-off in the kitchen while you’re preparing dinner together, or a slow dance in the living room, or even acting like nutcases at the saloon after a few too many drinks, she’ll have fun as long as it’s with you. She always has fun when it’s with you.
#stardew valley#sdv#stardew valley headcanons#sdv headcanons#headcanons#sam#sebastian#alex#elliott#shane#harvey#maru#penny#abigail#haley#leah#emily#sdv bachelors#sdv bachelorettes#long post#asks#requests#anon#thank you!!! <33
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!!!!! 6 for the wrapped blurb? A way to honor the song that didn't quite make it 🕯🖤
Hi there Vec! Six on my Spotify Wrapped was You Only Live Once by Suicide Silence. This one was actually super difficult for me to figure out, but We did it! Enjoy!
----
It's your heart that's beating inside that keeps us alive.
----
"Hey, Steve?" Eddie whispers, from his hospital bed and Steve freezes. He was headed out for the night. He wonders if Eddie remembers.
'Hey Steve--Make him pay.'
He's got to right? Steve hasn't stopped remembering it.
Steve whips his head around--no he's not eager to keep talking to Eddie. Leave him alone.
Eddie smiles. It's a small thing, but its been a week and half since--everything. Steve has thought about a lot of things. He's talked to Robin about a lot of things. It's been a week and a half since Steve Harrington carried Eddie Munson out of the upside down, hanging on by a fucking thread.
It's been two days since he opened his (very pretty) eyes and Steve is struggling.
Steve inhales, letting out a quick, "Yeah?"
That soft smile on Eddie's face, grows. He's still healing, but it's good to see him smiling. "I'm glad you made it out okay, Harrington."
Steve doesn't love that. Simply because, he's about to walk out of here, on two working legs. He's about to walk out of here, and go to his big as hell, empty fucking mansion and Eddie is lying in a hospital bed, with tubes all over his body, hooked to far too many electrical devices and Eddie is telling Steve that he's glad he's alright.
And yet-- "I'm glad you made it out okay too, Munson." Steve returns Eddie's smile.
Eddie cocks his head. "I'll see you soon?"
'I'll be back tomorrow', Steve thinks. He doesn't say that though. He just nods his head once. "Yeah, Eds. I'll see you soon."
——
Things are fine. Eddie keeps coming over to Steve's house--of course he does. Steve keeps inviting him. Steve just can't get over the fact that Eddie keeps saying yes.
They're doing what they usually do, these days, lounging by the pool--absolutely not swimming, thank you very much--smoking weed and just existing.
Steve is quite happy with the way things are going. He just wishes he could fucking say something. Anything.
Eddie pulls him out of his thoughts.
"Does it ever get any better?" Eddie asks and Steve raises an eyebrow. Eddie continues, "Living with knowing? Knowing that there's a real actual hell just--underneath our fucking feet? Knowing that people are as evil and twisted as I always thought they were? Knowing that the people of Hawkins are safe because of a bunch of teenage nerds? Does it--" Eddie pauses, turning his stupid (very pretty) wide eyes up to meet Steve's "--ever start making sense?"
Steve stares back into Eddie's eyes for a minute--he is high, leave him alone--before shaking his head.
"Better? No, I don't really think so--but, you have people who know what you do. You have people who went through what you went through. We stick together. Does it get any better? I don't really think so--but, it does get easier."
Eddie's face goes soft, his smile is that sweet thing again and it makes Steve's heart, ache. "Having you makes it easier I think."
Steve feels the color that rushes to his cheeks. "Yeah, well--you've got me."
——
He's going to go insane. It's been three months and things with Eddie are fine. They are fine, and nothing is changing and--well--except for--okay…so maybe they--Look. Listen. Eddie is a tactile guy and Steve does not mind. Maybe they cuddle on Steve's dumb couch everyone in a dumb while, but that's--Eddie isn't making any moves, and Steve doesn't know if he should--and--
And and and--
"Rob, I don't know what to do." Steve whines over the phone line.
"Oh my god Steve. I leave for the weekend. The weekend, Steven Augustus." She sighs. She has to go pulling out the pretentious middle name. Cool. Great. "Just--" she sighs, "just talk to him--or--"
"Or what Robin Evangeline?" Steve fights back. Robin has a pretentious middle name too.
Robin scoffs. "Okay, first of all? That's fuckin' rude. Point B? Just--I dunno--kiss him about it or something."
Steve laughs--cackles really. "Oh yeah, I'll just kiss him real quick and it should fix everything right?"
Robin sighs. "I don't know Steve. You only live once--and honestly? The fact that you and Eddie for that matter are still breathing is pretty fucking phenomenal and--You just--you--life is too short to worry about the what ifs. Talk to him, kiss him, fuck him. I don't care. Just--do something about it."
----
Steve watches as Eddie slings his jacket over his shoulders. He's just gonna let him walk out of his house again.
"Hey, Eddie?" Steve breathes. Eddie turns, that soft smile--the smile Steve thinks is maybe meant for him--on his plush lips.
Steve takes a breath and then grabs Eddie's arm, pulling them chest to chest. He almost loses his cool when they lock eyes. Eddie's are wide and searching.
Steve is done searching he knows what he wants. He leans forward, crashing his lips to Eddies.
Eddie kisses back.
----
You only live once, so just go fucking nuts!
#steddie#steddie fanfic#steddie blurb#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#worm spotify series#worm brain#wingwoman robin forever#vecnuthy
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Little Town Tails
Chapter 2: Bear Trap
Summary: A first patient comes to Halsin's veterinary practice. And not the usual kind.
Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav
Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy
Word count: 3,693
Read it on Ao3 here
Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here
There she stands, in the middle of the street, with messy copper-red hair blown around her pointy ears and into her eyes by the mischievous breeze. Sweat beads upon her pale brow, trickling down her temples and threatening to dampen the bumpy bridge of her freckled nose. Although clouded by nearly palpable concern, her turquoise eyes capture his gaze within a heartbeat, stealing the breath from his lungs.
While her expression displays panicked urgency, the faint lines coursing from the curves of her nostrils down to frame her rosy lips, coated with strong cherry-scented chapstick, bear witness to the numerous times she must have laughed and smiled. Such expressions must have been genuine, he thinks, since they have reached and creased the corners of her almond eyes.
Before his stare lingers upon her, he lowers it to the heavy weight occupying her arms and he nearly steps back in surprise.
An owlbear cub. An actual owlbear cub!
Out of breath and attempting to wipe the sweat stinging her eyes with her shoulder, she approaches him and calls out to him.
‘Good morning,’ she huffs, ‘are you…’
She tilts her head down to read a creased business card she previously tucked below her armpit.
‘...Doctor Silverbough?’
‘I am he, indeed,’ Halsin nods and opens the door wide again. ‘Is something wrong with the cub?’
The lady acquiesces and lets out a whimper as the whining cub’s weight weakens her grip and she tries to adjust it. Without thinking, he shoves the pastry box in his pocket and steps forward to delicately take the ailing animal from her. He invites her inside as he carries the cub to the examination table in his clinical room. Upon seeing the owlbear’s stature, he mentally pats himself on the back for having invested in a larger examination table despite his former mentor’s advice to stick to standard dimensions.
The woman, having followed him and closed the door behind them, comes to stand by her furry and feathery companion to scratch him behind the ears in reassurance.
‘There is something wrong with his front paw,’ she says, showing him which one she means. ‘When I called him for breakfast this morning, he didn’t come up to me. He stayed at the back of our field and he wouldn���t move. So, I went to check up on him, and I saw that he couldn’t stand up and that he couldn’t walk at all.’
Halsin lets the cub smell his hand before petting him on the head and the side of its face, letting it know that his intentions are nothing but friendly. After a moment of hesitation, the owlbear squeaks and sits back on its hind legs, almost in reverence. The veterinarian thanks it with a brief scratch under its beak and proceeds to a preliminary examination.
As he carefully feels around for any spot that might be especially sensitive, Halsin senses warm dents into the flesh of the paw, about three inches above the long and sharp claws. While the owner watches him with fear ablaze in her eyes, he brushes back the feathers and tries to find the holes he felt just a moment ago.
It does not take long before he does. Fresh blood guides him to the puncture wounds, witnesses of the tearing of the cub’s leathery skin. It is a botched work. Either the animal has struggled and caused more damage than necessary, or something — or someone — has pulled at whatever the source of such injuries was. And it must have been something quite solid, if not the teeth of a strong-jawed animal.
‘I feel deep punctures in a curved line,’ he mutters pensively to the owner. ‘Can you think of anything which could have bitten your cub? Or any object that could have torn the skin?’
The woman ponders for a moment, folding her arms as she does, but responds with a shake of her head.
‘I cannot think of anything. The field I let him live in is not one where I cultivate the land, so there is no farming equipment on the spot, not even a pitchfork.’
‘Does it ever leave the field?’
‘I do take it on the occasional forest walk, but I am extremely careful when it happens. Because of his wild animal status, I can’t take him just anywhere, you see.’
‘Of course.’
From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of her holding her head. When her whole body sways, he reaches out to catch her by the arm, preventing her from hurting herself in an unfortunate fall. He sits her down on a chair against the wall and crouches before her. Funny enough, his large frame is such that even in such a position, he remains taller than her.
‘Are you alright, madam?’ he asks loudly, in case she might need to snap back into consciousness. But she is awake, much to his relief.
‘I am, sorry about that. I am just worried about my cub.’
Judging from her pallor, he can tell that her issues are rooted in something else.
‘Have you eaten today?’
‘No. I usually give him breakfast before I have mine, and it took me so long to carry him across the field, then into the car, then drive here, then…’
She sighs and leans her head back against the wall. Poor thing, Halsin tells himself. In his two decades of experience in this field, fainting owners have been commonplace. After all, animals and pets are companions, family members, even. They are a lonely grandfather’s friend, the confidante of an ill-at-ease child, the partner in crime of an adventurous young woman. They take on many roles and never fail to bring comfort to their owners, although the occasional call to animal protection services has occurred throughout his career, as much for the animal’s wellbeing than for the apathetic owner’s sake. And, to be frank, his own peace of mind, but this is never a useful criterion when dealing with such circumstances.
Halsin gently takes the woman’s wrist to measure her pulse.
‘Would you like me to make you some tea?’ he offers with a warm smile. ‘I have some snacks you can eat. It is not good for you to remain in this state.’
She stares into his eyes, a blush dusting her cheeks and nearly rendering her freckles invisible to the eye.
‘Perhaps it’ll help,’ she answers weakly. ‘Thank you.’
He pats her arm and rushes to the staff room to fill the electric kettle with water before turning it on. As the device starts and a loud hum fills the cramped space, Halsin leans back against the cabinets and conceals a giddy grin behind his hand.
His heart is racing. He cannot explain it, but it is. He nearly grows dizzy from it, in the same manner that she swayed earlier. In twenty-two years of work, this has never happened. If anything, he was known to be the most professional veterinarian in the previous practice for which he worked. From his first day to the last, Halsin impressed his boss on multiple occasions, demonstrating unmatched level-headedness when dealing with heart-wrenching situations.
One day, a young man rushed inside the office, cradling his unresponsive cat whose abdomen was torn open by sharpened iron spikes. The owner was howling in despair, struggling to believe that anybody would do this to his innocent furry companion. While Halsin was busy keeping the animal alive, treating the gash and sewing it up, he could hear the man begging his colleague to save the cat, his only friend left in the world. Uncannily adroit with a needle, he managed to save the feline’s life and he became its regular vet throughout the years. Once the owner had left, his manager had praised Halsin for his unshakeable calm demeanour, but little did he know that he struggled to sleep for a few nights, wondering whether there could have been anything that he could have done better for this poor little creature.
But having his heart racing for a pet’s owner? Never. Unheard of. Inconceivable!
Before he knows it, steam swirls out of the kettle’s beak and a sudden click resounds from the countertop, a brief interruption amid the bubbling noise of the water. Halsin shakes his head, trying to keep his head clear, and retrieves his teabox from one of the overhead cabinets. He prepares the tea service on a tray, complementing it with a jar of honey and a small, flowery sugar box he inherited from a relative. On a saucer, he sets down three of the miniature pastries that Melly brought him earlier, hoping that they would be enough to keep the lady’s blood sugar up.
Tucking the teabox under his arm, he carries the tray to the examination room and sets it down on the chair beside her, pleased to see that the woman is regaining colours.
‘Here, pick a flavour,’ he says, balancing the teabox on his palm and opening it for her.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbles in embarrassment, picking a red berry infusion. As she notices the honey on the tray, she eyes him curiously. ‘Honey? Isn’t that for sore throats?’
Halsin laughs and washes his hands in the small sink in the corner of the room, drying them thoroughly.
‘It is, but I find honey to be most soothing when I am worried. You are free to try it.’
The woman smiles at last and takes him up on the offer. As Halsin brings his focus back to the injured cub, he hears the clinking of the spoon inside the cup as she twirls the mixture in the same way a witch would stir a potion.
Setting the paw on a sterile cloth, he washes the blood away with saline water, clearing the view so he can identify the problem.
‘I cannot believe this,’ he grumbles through gritted teeth as he recognises the marks.
‘What is it, doctor?’ the woman gasps, her head shooting up as soon as his voice reaches her.
‘Bear trap. Your cub had his paw stuck in one. Are you sure that you have not seen anything suspicious in your field or the forest? Truly nothing at all?’
She hastily drinks a sip and sets the cup aside, jumping onto her feet to see the injuries with her own eyes.
‘A bear trap, you say? I don’t…’
‘Does he ever leave your field? Are there any other places that he might go?’
‘No, only the field and the forest. My permit only allows me to take him there,’ she answers, before furrowing her brow. ‘Although, when I found him this morning, the fence had been broken in from outside. I doubt that he escaped. He has never tried it.’
Her gaze darkens as she ponders about the fence again. It seems that she might have found an explanation for the broken face, and, Halsin hopes, for the trap.
‘This little fucker!’ she hisses.
As she sees his raised eyebrow, she waves a hand before her.
‘Sorry, doctor. I believe I know who might have done it.’
She grabs her cup of tea to sip it, letting it calm her nerves, even just for an instant.
‘My neighbour, Mr Bongle. A bitter man, this one. Always angry about something. He was so adamant about having the cub taken away by the local authorities and euthanised. He tried to oppose my acquisition of a piece of the field behind my house for the owlbear’s development, and it went so far that the dispute needed mediation from the town hall.’
‘I see. How did it end up?’
‘I won the dispute. I proved that I had the right paperwork done and that I had all the permits to keep the owlbear in my care. My family owns a rescue centre in the north. They cure wounded wild animals and release them. I used to work with them when I was a student, so I’m experienced when it comes to that sort of animal.’
‘Do you believe that your neighbour might have disagreed with the verdict?’
‘Oh, very much so. He has threatened to hurt the cub more than once,’ she scoffs, finishing the tea in one last gulp, before petting the owlbear’s head and peppering its feathers with kisses. Even from where he stands, Halsin notices the tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I just never thought he would actually do it.’
While she cuddles her owlbear — the animal being visibly comfortable around her — Halsin begins to clean each wound individually.
‘Have you seen any trap on your land?’ he inquires while hunched over the animal’s claws.
‘None.’
That does not help things at all. After all, the woman mentioned owning a field, it is possible that the spot where she found the cub is different from the whereabouts of the trap. What if the creature crawled away after being caught and simply could not go any further?
‘It is not the first time that I see such an attack happening,’ Halsin confesses to the woman. ‘Back in the village where I used to work, neighbours’ quarrels were sometimes aggravated by attacks on the other party’s private property, and pets or farm animals were often the first to suffer from such pettiness.’
‘Any pattern you recognise?’
Halsin offers a simple shrug.
‘It could be anything. If Mr Bongle is indeed behind your cub’s injuries, it is possible that he planted the trap on the edge of your field, but once he saw it caught, he could have panicked and broken into your property to remove the trap. That could explain the broken fence and the tears in the skin. But these are mere suppositions.’
‘I see.’
Once all the wounds are disinfected, Halsin conducts a test to assess the extent of nerve and tissue damage caused by the jaw of the bear trap. Unfortunately, the cub does not respond to stimulation as well as he hoped it would. When he gently pokes the area with a dull needle, the creature merely tilts its head, wondering what he is up to. But there is no response in the limb. No twitch of the claw. Further up the leg, however, everything seems to work as normal.
‘Mh,’ Halsin sighs, ‘I am afraid that there has been some nerve damage, either caused by the trap or the attempts to remove it. That is why he could not stand or walk. He does not seem to feel anything in the paw. Slight tingles at most.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’
‘I can operate this afternoon. All the materials and equipment are here. Since the rest of the leg responds normally, I believe that the damage to the paw is not irreversible. That was simply bad luck.’
‘Will he struggle to walk later on?’
‘That is a risk, indeed, but if he limps for the rest of his life, it should be a painless hindrance. I have seen animals with worse injuries that could still run around until late in life. Sure, their gait appeared a bit silly at times, but they did not experience any discomfort or pain.’
The woman nibbles on her lower lip and nods slowly.
‘Fine. Let’s operate.’
Halsin lets her reassure the trembling owlbear and walks over to the computer on the opposite side of the examination table. He opens his software and types the details of the situation into a new file.
‘I can keep him here already until the surgery. Just in case, I would like to keep him overnight for observation. This will not be at your charge.’
‘Oh, thank you. May I ask how you are going to look after him?’
‘I live right above the practice,’ he responds warmly, pointing at the ceiling. ‘I can check up on him every three hours and make sure that he drinks and eats enough. You should be able to bring him home tomorrow. Would that be suitable for you?’
‘Yes.’
He continues to fill in the form on the software, the clickety-clacks of his old keyboard filling the room.
‘Besides,’ he adds, ‘I have a loyal companion who would be delighted to keep watch over your cub.’
Behind the reception, outside the room, they hear Scratch stretching his paws. His claws clink against the linoleum floor, and his whimpery yawn causes both the veterinarian and the anxious owlbear owner to smile.
‘Sounds like a good boy, alright,’ the woman acquiesces with a chuckle. ‘Well, I suppose that Beaky’s in good hands.’
‘Beaky?’
‘Oh, yes, that’s his name. Beaky. Sorry, I’m not creative when it comes to names.’
‘That is quite alright,’ Halsin laughs, ‘I have heard much worse.’
Once every field has been filled in, he turns around to face the woman.
‘May I ask for your name and address, so I can fill in Beaky’s file?’
‘Of course. My name is Tav Ashguard and my address is 8 Barn Way in Combury.’
‘Thank you.’
Tav. What a peculiar name, but one he likes nonetheless. As soon as compliments fill his head, he ushers them away as if he fears that she can read his mind.
‘There. Everything is ready,’ he speaks over the deafening whirlwind of thoughts inside his brain. ‘If you wish, I can take your phone number and keep you updated if anything happens. This can be done by text or on the phone, whatever suits your preferences.’
‘Texts would be perfect. Call only if it is dire.’
‘Very well.’
Tav recites her phone number and he enters it in his file and into his work phone. Halsin then gives Beaky some mild painkillers just to be sure, before escorting its owner back to the reception. Once they stand at the door, he points towards a nearby street.
‘If you suspect Mr Bongle, I would advise you to seek the local forest ranger, Minsc. His office is up that street, to the right. He is in charge of the woods between Heawick and Combury, so perhaps he can help you find the bear trap. If not, he can refer you to a lawyer from the animal protection services, he often works with them when he finds injured and orphaned animals.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely of you. Thank you.’
She shakes his hand firmly.
‘Thank you for the tea and for taking care of Beaky. I was not sure whether you would take him in, but I’m glad you did.’
‘Of course. All animals deserve to be saved.’
‘I like hearing that.’
If Halsin did not know better, he could swear that he saw her blush just now.
‘Please, keep me updated on Beaky’s state?’
‘I promise you that I will keep a close eye on him.’
‘Perfect. Thanks. Goodbye, Dr Silverbough!’
‘Goodbye, Miss Ashguard.’
He sees her walk back to her car, right when a roaring engine echoes through the street. Karlach appears, perched atop a vintage motorcycle, and parks the vehicle in front of the practice. The tiefling hops off, clad in a short leather jacket adorned with silver buckles and dull spikes. She runs a hand through her dark hair ornamented with red streaks, hoping that it was not flattened too much because of her helmet.
When she notices Halsin at the door, she waves excitedly, her whole face illuminating.
‘Morning, Doc!’ she chimes, watching Tav’s car driving away. ‘Was that our first patient?’
Halsin grins. He has not known the young woman long, but one thing is for certain. Her enthusiasm, even for the littlest things, is unparalleled.
‘Indeed.’
‘What was it? A dog? A cat? A bird?’
‘An owlbear.’
Karlach gasps, her eyes as round as marbles and her jaw dropping at once.
‘No fucking way!’
‘Language,’ Halsin scolds playfully, although he certainly wishes that she could swear less loudly.
‘Sorry. No way!’
Without needing any form of invitation, she rushes inside, slamming her helmet on her chair behind the reception. She bursts into the examination room and finds the docile cub on the table. While Halsin closes the door and quietly makes his way to the two of them, he hears Karlach’s squeals and her cooed words as she pets the creature.
‘I will operate on him this afternoon, so I will need to close the practice earlier. Until we find another vet willing to work here, we do not have much choice.’
‘Understood, Doc.’
‘I will keep him overnight for observation. You can simply go home once I am done with the surgery. Does that sound alright to you?’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay longer?’
‘It should be fine.’
The tiefling continues to pet the cub in the same way she does Scratch, not caring that it is supposed to be a wild animal.
‘Where will the cub sleep, though?’ she asks. ‘Aren’t our cages too cramped for a pet this size?’
‘I will bring down the mattress from my guest room,’ Halsin sighs. ‘I might sleep near him while he recovers.’
‘You know what you should invest in, Doc? A babyphone. Or one of those baby cameras, you know?’
‘Hah. Perhaps I should.’
He watches her as she showers Beaky with love. Despite her inexperience, he has no regrets about employing Karlach. She is most efficient, involved, caring, and willing to learn any new task. These are qualities that he immediately sensed in her when she showed up to the practice one day after reading online that it would soon open. Out of nowhere, while varnishing wooden poles, Halsin found the tiefling scratching at his door, begging him to give her a job. Anything.
At the time, she and her partner Dammon were struggling to pay rent, but with early salary payment, once he allowed her to help with the renovations in the office space and the running of errands before she took on her official role, the issue was solved altogether.
Karlach presses a kiss into Beaky’s feathers and turns to Halsin with a smirk.
‘His owner was cute. Didn’t you think so, Doc?’
Halsin laughs and leans against the doorpost, trying to appear as nonchalant as he can.
‘I suppose.’
Taglist: @emmanuellececchi
#Halsin#Halsin Silverbough#Halsin x Tav#Tav#Baldur's Gate 3#BG3#Baldur's Gate#Halsin x OC#Halsin x Fem!Tav#Modern AU#BG3 modern au#BG3 romance#BG3 fanfiction#BG3 fanfic#BG3 fic#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction#Little Town Tails
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Day 11: Sensory Deprivation - Jake Lockley
Kinktober Day 11: Sensory Deprivation - Jake Lockley x f!reader
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, restraints, blindfold, headphones, anxiety, anticipation, masturbation (male), voyeurism (?), sensory deprivation, cum swallowing, vibrating nipple pumps, vibrator, multiple orgasms, overwhelmed, talks of aftercare, nicknames, no use of y/n
my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link
The day had started as any other, a typical Tuesday and finally a day off for you and Jake, something you both rarely were able to share. Except it wasn’t the bitter scent of coffee to awake you from your deep slumber, no… it was the click of the leather buckle attached to your ankle that had you stirring.
“Jake?”
Attempting to sit up, your movements were halted as you couldn’t move either arms or both feet for that matter with similar buckles being attached to them all, and this had your eyes opening and searching around the flat. Omitting to the fact that you now could feel the soft silk wrapped around your head, having woken up more and weren't stuck in that groggy first moments.
“Jake?”
The nerves didn’t initially ignite, it wasn’t the first time that Jake had woken you to something similar to this, however, it was the tone in which your boyfriend next spoke. Calm but too calm.
“Mi Amor, relax, let me take care of you. Remember shake your head if it’s too much”. Before any questions could form, large headphones were being placed over your head, playing your favourite rain compilations from Spotify, something usually reserved for when you were highly anxious or struggling to sleep. It was also loud.
Loud enough that you couldn’t hear your own voice trying to question what he was doing but also completely trusting anything he had planned.
Trying to notice where Jake was, you noticed that the bed didn’t feel as low anymore from where he had been previously sitting as you assumed he moved away. Only for the blanket to be taken away a second later leaving the air to cooly kiss your naked skin, having not bothered to redress after Jake had all but thrown you into bed and ripped your clothes off.
Now there was only the slightest bit of regret for not redressing, feeling incredibly exposed, the tiny hairs covering your arms lifting as you tried not to think about Jake’s eyes searching every inch of your body, which was exactly what he was doing.
You weren’t sure what to expect, maybe some light teasing or just a good fuck but what you hadn’t anticipated was nothing at all for over 10 minutes. After long minutes of waiting, you eventually tried to pull on the restraints but like usual they were thoroughly attached and definitely not going to come off.
Then the thoughts turned to excitement. Where would he touch first, if he even did touch you with the way he was waiting? Would he start with your nipples? Maybe caress them with his tongue and teeth until they were puffy? Or maybe he would start right at the apex of your legs, using his fingers to tease your folds gently, or roughly, softly fuck you until you were calling his name like a song, or until you were sore from screaming so loud with overwhelming pleasure.
Now you were silently cursing yourself, wishing to be able to rub your thighs together, just something to help relieve the building tension in your abdomen but the way your legs were tied up, there was no way to stop this.
Risking another question that you could still not hear yourself speak, you attempted to ask Jake what was going on but was abruptly cut off by a warm liquid shooting out onto your abdomen in quick bursts lasting for a few seconds before stopping.
“Did…did you just cum on me?” you asked in shock, face heating at the realisation that he had been stood over, watching you and jacking off.
Not being able to see him was starting to become an issue, not knowing where he was coming from or where he would touch so when his rough fingertips gripped onto your cheeks, you couldn’t help but jerk back from his touch but he remained confident, squeezing until you mouth opened.
Next, a hand stroked across the damp spot lower down as Jake coated his index and middle finger in his cum, bringing it up to your open mouth and watching the sticky substance drip into your mouth. At the first drop of salt burst against your tongue, you quickly caught onto his action, lapping at his fingers until they were clean and you could have sworn you felt the vibrations down his hands from where he moaned deeply.
Jake's hands moved off of you once more leaving only more questions and suspense to circle through your thoughts. It seemed like he wanted to play though as you felt an intense sucking sensation on your nipple which was the reciprocated on the other nipple. You realised immediately that he had placed the nipple pumps on both breasts leaving them both sucked into the small chambers.
His next step you anticipated as turned them both on, vibrations now rolling against your erected nipples, stimulating them enough to have your back arching up to attempt to feel more but knowing nothing would come of it.
It was an odd sensation to have the vibrations rolling through your chest but not be able to hear it and again, only caused the apprehension to build as to what Jake had planned.
There seemed to be a theme to his teasing as a cool rubber object was placed against your moistening folds between your legs and you knew exactly what was to come as he turned on the vibrator wand to its lowest setting. Releasing a heavy breath, you tried to relax your muscles that had tensed at the contact, willing yourself to calm yourself and not become entirely overwhelmed.
Easier said than done however as he turned up the vibrator, pushing it harder so you had more direct contact against your clit, causing your body to shiver at the stimulation.
It was an automatic reaction to start rolling your hips with the sensations pulsing through your chest and cunt, it felt so good and yet so confusing to not be able to see or hear what was happening, not knowing if something else was going to occur or if Jake would stop it to replace with something else but you secretly hoped he didn’t, it was nice arousing.
Jake, however, wasn’t known in your relationship for taking the calm steady route as he turned up the controls of the wand for the third time, the vibrations become more intense now. Enough to have you trying to shift your hips back to relieve the pressure but he only pressed harder.
You weren’t sure what noises you were making but it was sure to be between a mewl and whine, wanting the thrill of an orgasm but not with how quickly it was approaching, finding it almost too much.
Each breath you took was heavy, mouth hanging open to suck in the cool hair, almost tasting the salty scents that drifted through the air from his cum and your increasing arousal.
“Ah, ah I’m cuming Jake” you couldn’t help but mutter, finding a slight comfort in talking, it was some way to try and connect with your boyfriend if you couldn’t hear or see him and thankfully he didn’t move the wand away.
Not until you were pulsing, hips jolting with each spasm from your cunt as the beautiful orgasmic feeling rushed through you, both vibrating sensations on your nipples also coming to a stop as you relaxed into the pillows, a satisfied smile on your face.
This didn’t last long as you quickly tugged on each of your restraints as simultaneously the wand returned to your clit, still at the same level as before, and the sucked sensation intensified tenfold as he pulled both pumps off in quick successions causing the already sensitive areas to flare slightly in pain.
Jake moved in swiftly, keeping the vibrator steady as his mouth descended around one of your nipples, sucking on the puffy mound, sending bolts of electric pleasure straight to your core before continuing this action with the other nipple.
You tipped your head back, arching your spine to try and get closer but also through the intense feeling, not sure how to process it all.
In between your legs was soaked, dripping into the sheets, whilst the cum on your abdomen began to dry, tugging at the soft skin as you whimpered and moaned.
Jake's mouth continued its assault, his warm tongue lapping at the buds before nipping with his sharp teeth which only caused you to cry out louder until that was all but forgotten about as he once again turned up the vibrator.
It had only been a few moments since your last orgasm but you were already experiencing the build-up of another already.
“Jake jake jake” you incoherently chanted unable to hold back the shout as you bucked your hips and came again, wrists aching from tugging on the restraints so harshly.
He again stopped the vibrator, removing his mouth from your body, giving you some time to come down from your euphoric high, it takes you longer this time to stop quivering and regulate your breathing to normal.
You could really feel how exhausted you were now and sensitive, the pulsing between your legs not ceasing. You wanted to cuddle, be needy, make out, hell, and even just see your boyfriend would settle your nerves that were slowly increasing.
So when the vibrator touched your clit one more time, you quickly shook your head and Jake was swift to move, turning off the wand and throwing it to the end of the bed before removing your headphones and eye mask, large hands cupping your cheeks to stroke the soft skin there soothingly.
“Talk to me Princesa” he muttered. It took you a few seconds to adapt to being uncovered, eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the morning light streaming through the wind and your eyes to stop ringing from the loudness of the rain noises that had now stopped.
“I’m ok Jake, I just think I’m a bit overwhelmed” you answered honestly, sighing happily as he kissed your forehead, inching across the bed to easily uncuff each of the restraints, massaging the skin beneath as he went before pulling your body into his lap.
The tenseness in your body instantly resolved at being in his arms, feeling his own naked body against your own, the warmth, his natural beautiful smell. You were half tempted to fall asleep again right there but he gently cupped under your chin, grabbing your attention.
“Not yet darlin’, let’s get you cleaned up first” he raised his eyes brows as he looked lower on your body, only then did you remember that his cum still lay across your abdomen. You couldn’t help the warmth that travelled to your cheeks, nodding in agreement and letting him help you to the bathroom.
#i know its marc in the gif but go with it#jake lockley#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x reader#moon knight smut#moon knight#moon knight fic#kinktober#kinktober 2022#mine*
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The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan
Spotify Playlist Link
Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.
Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve: The Prophecy
Katherine wholeheartedly kissed Luke Castellan as he drove, not caring if he crashed the car. She’d never felt more invigorated and alive in her life. She needed to feel it. She needed to feel him.
“Slow down, baby,” Luke mumbled into her kiss, chuckling as he tried to glance at the open road every now and then.
After the debauchery on the way from New York to Baltimore, Luke and Katherine had decided together that it was best they get as far away from the east coast as possible instead, just for a little while as their bullet sounds healed, which certainly didn’t take as long considering their healing powers.
Of course, their identities were safe after they destroyed the security cameras in the restaurant on the way out, also thanks to the Mist, but still, Luke knew that somewhere, there were police sketches of them hanging up on a bulletin board. So, they were headed to Arizona to lay low.
“Slow down, baby,” Luke murmured, becoming increasingly aware of the few cars around them.
“Why?” Katherine said innocently as she watched him struggle.
“Because, I’m gonna crash,” he stated.
“So?” she asked, genuinely indifferent to the outcome of that risk-taking.
“So, we don’t wanna almost die again, do we?” he questioned.
“What if we did?” she asked softly, an eerie provocative quality to her voice. “We’d die happy, wouldn’t we?”
Luke just chuckled at her, driving down the highway in Kansas. It had been several days since they’d headed off toward Arizona, and they were getting closer to their final destination.
“Luke?” Katherine spoke quietly.
“Yes?” he prompted her.
“I thought about what you said,” she finally said.
“What did I say?” he asked for a reminder.
“About going back with you. To camp,” she said, capturing his attention as he stared at her, trying to discern whether or not she was serious.
“You… You have?” he asked, not sure how to respond.
“Yeah… Do you still want me to come with you?” Katherine asked him, a soft expression on her face.
“…Yeah,” a soft breath escaped his lips. “I do.”
She smiled, seeming pleased with his response. “Okay. I’ll come with you,” she decided with finality.
“R-Really?” he stammered. “You want to?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, seeming certain. “I do.”
“Alright,” he nodded, considering the idea as he smiled. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”
It was another day or so before they reached Arizona. They laid low in a motel from Sells for little over a week, not leaving the room unless it was for food. The entire week was dedicated to questionable motel TV and sleazy lovemaking. The couple didn’t really speak to anyone else throughout the entire stay, focusing solely on each other the entire time.
That left them plenty of time to spend entire days in bed, enjoying each other’s company over anything else. Katherine and Luke both chuckled as he laid shirtless under the covers in the air conditioned room with his arm around her, their noses touching as they held one another.
“You know I love you so much,” Luke said suddenly for the first time, moved by the moment.
“I love you just as much,” she whispered back, looking him in the eye without fear or trepidation.
Something in Katherine had changed when Kronos brought her back to life. Like didn’t know what had happened, but he knew that whatever Kronos had done had actually affected her in some way. He didn’t know if it was wrong, but he actually appreciated it on some level, feeling as if she’d had some sort of epiphany.
“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Luke admitted to her.
“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” she promised him, her hand gently resting on his cheek.
“You can’t promise that,” he murmured, a look of fear in his eyes.
“Well. I can promise you I’ll always be with you. No matter what,” she promised him. “I’ll always be right here.”
“I hope so,” he sighed, closing his eyes in a silent prayer as he pressed his forehead to hers.
It was a couple days before they left for New York again, heading back to the camp. They took about five days, getting a decent amount of rest along the way. Once they finally stepped through the magical barrier at Camp Half-Blood that only permitted demigods to enter, Luke found himself reinforcing his arm around Katherine as they walked through.
“We just have to talk to Chiron,” he murmured as a few people noticed her presence already. “Then you’re good to stay.”
Katherine nodded silently as he walked her to the Big House.
”Wait right here,” he told her as he walked into one of the rooms alone as she waited out in the hall.
There was a short discussion going on between Luke and whoever was inside that she couldn’t hear. After a few moments, Luke came back out, looking pretty happy.
“Okay. You ready?” he asked her.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, his smile overtaking her as she unconsciously returned it.
He walked back into the room with his arm around her protectively, as Chiron, the first centaur, looked at her in surprise. Luke turned to look at his girlfriend, realizing that she had a glowing symbol flashing above her head as she walked: a silver set of scales.
“It seems that your mother, Nemesis, has chosen to claim you without our asking,” Chiron observed, pleasantly surprised. “You’re lucky.”
Luke smiled down at Katherine, resisting the urge to completely dote on her.
“You will be staying in Cabin 11, with Luke, and the other children of Hermes, and the minor gods.”
“Okay,” she agreed with a nod.
“Of course,” Chiron said more stiffly, “I will firmly ask that no funny business take place; one of the rules here is that two campers may not be alone together in the cabins at any given time.”
“Of course,” Katherine nodded, both she and Luke trying to hide their massive smirks.
“We will provide you with a place to sleep and a camp shirt, and you are also free to use anything in the armory or anywhere else in the camp for training,” the half-man explained.
“Got it,” Katherine nodded.
“Good. So,” Chiron continued. “You’ve lived on your own all this time?”
She nodded again. “I left home when I was thirteen.”
“You’re very resourceful to have survived this long, Katherine,” he told her. “Not many demigods would have been able to survive this long on their own.”
She just smiled, looking up at Luke.
“Anyways. I won’t keep you; there’s still lots for you to see. I trust Luke will show you around,” Chiron smiled as Luke nodded in response.
The two of them walked back out to where the car was parked, retrieving the few belongings that they both had. All of Katherine’s possessions fit into a big garbage bag. Luke showed Katherine the bunk he was meant to give her in the Hermes Cabin, then pointedly walking her over to private rooms he said some of the other counselors had claimed.
Despite being the largest cabin at the camp due to the amount of unclaimed and minor god children, Cabin 11 was still constantly packed. It felt like there was hardly any space to walk. Glad to have somewhere private for her and Luke, Katherine left her things in his room, as he walked her out to give her a brief tour of the camp.
As they walked through the camp grounds, Luke smiled pleasantly as a young blonde girl crossed their path, who couldn’t have been older than twelve. She initially smiled when she saw Luke, but then seemed more hesitant when she noticed Katherine.
“Hey, Annabeth,” Luke smiled, “Long time no see.”
The girl, Annabeth Chase, who Katherine had remembered his stories about from before he arrived at camp, just smiled meekly.
“Hey,” she murmured, looking at the stranger next to him.
“This is my girlfriend. Katherine,” Luke introduced her politely. “Katherine, this is Annabeth. One of the strongest, smartest people I know.”
There was a certain pride to the way he said it.
“Hi, Annabeth. Nice to meet you,” Katherine said softly.
“You’re a daughter of Nemesis,” Annabeth said with a lack of filter. “I can tell.”
“I am,” Katherine nodded pridefully, a curious look on her face as she tried to decide how she felt about the short interaction.
“Welp. We gotta get going. See you later,” Luke told the girl, continuing on as Katherine put the discomfort of the lack of conversation behind her.
As Luke ushered her around, his hand resting firmly on her back, everyone at the camp began to notice the newcomers that wasn’t actually a child. He showed her just about everything at the camp: the cabins, the arena, the strawberry fields, and the beach…
Luke felt oddly proud, just walking around with Katherine. He liked the idea of showing her off, of walking around being the only one allowed to touch her at all. He liked having Katherine on his arm, because he knew no one else could. They didn’t stand a chance. Any of them. Many people looked at her, and the two of them together, for many different reasons. One of them in particular was a remarkably slim girl with dark hair and blue eyes.
“…Who is that?” Katherine asked, noticing the girl practically tracking her movements.
She seemed to be all but glaring, not even blinking as her head turned as far as Katherine walked.
“Who?” Luke asked, tracing her gaze. “The one with the blatantly obvious stink eye?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s Silena Beauregard. Head of Cabin 10, Aphrodite… I think she’s always had a huge crush on me,” he admitted.
“Well, if she keeps looking at me like that, I’ll crush her.”
“Love, I appreciate the thought,” Luke said humorously as he tightened his grip on her, “But I think she’s one of the ones that could be useful to us.”
“Right. We have a shit ton of recruiting to do eventually,” she sighed. “You should get in her pants.”
Luke stopped dead in his tracks, looking at her in disgust.
“What?”
“She’d obviously do anything if she thought you wanted her to do it. You gotta give these people something to hope for if you want them to follow you,” Katherine reasoned.
“I guess that’s true,” he mumbled, not liking the idea. “I guess I’ll lead her on, or something.”
“Good,” she nodded her approval.
The two walked around the camp together, until they were stopped by a rather disheveled looking middle-aged man with a Diet Coke in his hand walking out of the Big House.
“Hey! You two,” he barked them down.
“Mr. D,” Luke called promptly as Katherine realized who they were speaking to.
Dionysus, the god of wine and general debauchery, one of the camp’s directors.
“Go see the Oracle.”
“The Oracle?” Luke questioned. “Why?”
“You think I know?” the malcontent demanded. “Just go up to the attic. Chiron said the damn thing’s acting up.”
“Okay,” Luke sighed, as they walked back up to the Big House.
“The Oracle of Delphi?” Katherine questioned, recalling the multiple times he’d mentioned it. “Why would it have something to say to us?”
“I don’t know,” Luke admitted, trying to think. “But… I think it has something to do with what she said when I went on that quest, right before we met,” he remembered.
“What did she say?” she asked him, not recalling him ever telling her about it.
Luke just sighed. “The last lines never made any sense to me until we went off together… I think it went like this.
‘You shall run for your life,
Never free from strife.
You shall find a new reason,
As affinities deepen.’
That’s what the oracle said to me.”
Katherine stared at him for a moment, trying to fully process.
“That’s you and me,” Luke told her. “For some reason, you and me are part of a prophecy.”
She nodded silently as they walked into the Big House, now fully understanding the gravity of the situation.
“There you two are. Go up to the attic,” Chiron said immediately upon their arrival. “It’s asking for you.”
They both agreed, without any further questions. Luke led Katherine up to the large, dusty attic of the house, taking her to the Oracle, the dead body of the last woman to inherit its power, which had just been stored up in the attic over the years.
Luke watched as it slowly came to life, reanimating like some sort of Halloween animatronic.
“I don’t think there’s a quest,” Luke said thoughtfully. “The one I just came back from… It was the only one the camp has seen since the last quest I went on.”
Katherine nodded, knowing that both quests of Luke’s were sore subjects that he didn’t like to discuss very often. They both watched as the corpse came to life, showing them both the same vision before it spoke. It was a vision from the past, of the two of them eating at a diner on the way back to New York.
The Oracle began to speak, its voice seeming to be wheezing in pain.
“Hate burns in the name of love,
And this love was not sent from above.
You will both turn your backs to home,
It will always be you, together and alone.
Betrayal will be rewarded,
And love is perverted.
One soul has already been claimed.
One will be sacrificed to pain,
The other to an eternal reign.
Time will betray you,
And blood will ensue.”
Katherine and Luke exchanged worried looks as the dead corpse snapped back into place, no longer moving at all. They both took a moment to recall her words, the ominous prophecy burned into both of their brains.
“‘Time will betray you’….” Luke echoed.
“‘And blood will ensue’,” Katherine nodded.
Both knew that meant nothing good.
“‘Betrayal will be rewarded, and love is perverted’,” she repeated.
Luke thought for a moment, considering the endless possibilities.
“What we’re doing…” he realized, looking her in the eyes as his hands held her gently by the forearms. “It’s not gonna end well,” he looked at her, an almost pleading look in his eyes.
“Did we ever think it would?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed, thinking about his own betrayal of the camp. “But I always thought, on some level, it’d be worth it.”
“It will be worth it,” Katherine said poisonously, the look in her dark eyes consuming him. It will be worth it, when we burn this shit to the ground,” she promised him.
Luke held her for a moment, wondering if this was someone he recognized. He had certainly seen Katherine like this before. She probably would’ve said the exact same thing even before Kronos healed her, but something in that moment still felt eerily different to Luke.
-
Chapter Thirteen
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader smut#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#pjo series#pjo fandom#pjo hoo toa#jake abel#pjo luke#rick riordan#riordanverse#riordan universe#adam milligan
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Real [Foggy Nelson x reader]
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day from me to you! Here’s a fluffy Foggy fic. Also, I listened to so many different playlists on Spotify while writing this. This roughly takes place in 1x12 of the show (divider by saradika)
Thanks to @writings-of-a-demigod and @writeroutoftime for helping out!!!!!
Summary: After finding out Matt is Daredevil, Foggy begins to question everything. He sees you and that all goes away, but what will happen when you two start talking under the New York stars?
Word Count: 2,090
Warnings: none, Matt is DD (implied), fluff (like tooth-rotting), bad writing reader has at least medium-length hair (mentioned once)
With heavy steps, Foggy walks up the stairs to the office, an invisible weight on his shoulders. ‘Was anything Matt ever told the truth? Were they ever even friends? Was anything around him real?’ Then he thought back to you. ‘If nothing else…’ he thought. ‘If nothing else, these feelings are real.’ He turned the metal knob to the office, opening the door.
Everything in and about this place reminds him of Matt. All their time together in college, the laughs they shared, the struggles they promised to get through together, certain awards and knick-knacks decorating their desks, and… you. You, asleep at the desk in the middle of the twin offices. Your hair sprawled over your shoulders, falling on the folders and pictures beneath your arms.
His features soften a bit, glad Matt isn’t here, glad to see that someone can have some peace around here. All Foggy could do was think about the betrayal he felt from Matt. ‘How could he have lied to Foggy for so long? And about something so important, and… dangerous?’ His thoughts were constantly racing since he learned Matt’s secret but as soon as he saw you, they silenced. For the past week, all Foggy could do was doubt everything.
He softly closes the door behind him, making his way over to you. He puts his hand on your arm, slightly shaking you in an attempt to wake you up. “Y/N?” He whispered, receiving no response in return. “Y/N… come on, wake up.” He saw you starting to stir in your sleep, still not waking up fully. So, he tried again. “Y/N,” he said with a direct voice, continuing to shake your arm. He saw you start to flutter your eyes open, you furrowing your eyebrows.
“Morning, sunshine.” He said with a smile forming on his face as he saw you open your eyes. You lift your head up, looking around in confusion, not remembering falling asleep. You blink your eyes a few times, wiping the little trail of drool leaving the corner of your lips. Your eyes land on Foggy, who's standing at the corner of your desk with a small smile on his face. Despite the smile on his face, Foggy looked a little tired, like you, and a lot sad.
“Hey…” You spoke in a slightly groggy voice having just woken up. “What time is it?” Foggy checks his watch as you sit straight up in your chair. “It’s just past midnight. Why didn’t you go home if you were tired?” He still stands in front of you, concern and worry clearly written on his face.
You cleared your throat, able to talk with less of a rasp now. “I stayed late… later than I thought, I guess. I was just doing some research on the Castle case. I wanted to try and help you out.” Your words trail off as you get done explaining yourself.
His features soften, glad to have someone like you in his life; he’s more glad to have you in his life. “You didn’t have to do that.” He talks barely above a whisper, whether because you just woke up, or because he's unsure of his words, you aren’t sure.
“It was no problem, really.” You say with a smile starting to dance on your lips dismissively. You stand up, starting to walk the short distance to the mini kitchen your office had. “I know it’s a little late, but do you want some coffee? I have more things I need to look through, so…” He starts to readjust his shoulder bag awkwardly while you explain yourself.
“Oh, no.” He begins. “I just came here to get a few of my things.” His voice gets quiet at the end of his sentence.
Your heart hurts a little at his words. They weren’t rude in any manner of speaking, but they still stung and made your heart drop into your stomach. Your mouth opens and closes, starting to say something then deciding against it. Instead, you decide on a half-assed smile as you meet his eyes.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you be.”
He gives a soft but curt nod and begins to walk towards his office. “Hey, Foggy?” you interrupt his movement.
He turns around with wide eyes, "Yeah?" You think of how you want to word what you're trying to say. You come up empty, except for the words, "Are you okay?" You asked him sincerely. It was obvious that something was different with him and Matt.
"Yeah, I'm fine." The words fall out of his mouth like he's trying to convince the both of you.
Without missing a beat, you speak up. "No, you aren't, Foggy. I know you. I've known you for years. So, please don't lie to me. You don't have to spill your guts to me, just tell me if something is bothering you."
You talk with a sense of desperation, hoping your words get through to him. You watch his gaze soften, not that it was a hard look to begin with. More like the toughness he was presenting left, leaving just Foggy.
Wordlessly, you walk closer to Foggy, slowly bringing your hands up to his chest. You grab at the strap of his shoulder bag, dragging it down his arm. You hear the leather fall to the floor with a soft thump.
Ditching the idea of coffee, files, or personal items, you reach down clasping his hand in yours. He knew from the moment you walked over to him what you were doing. You were going to the roof.
Foggy loved that about you - he came to terms a while ago that he was, in fact, hopelessly in love with you - you knew what he needed even if he himself didn't know.
Hand in hand, you open the office door, closing it behind you, and go down the hallway and up the stairs to the door that says 'roof access.'
This wasn't new to either of you. The pair always went onto the roof when something was wrong, or when the world felt like it was caving in on you. So you did what you always do.
You two walked out, hearing a loud metal clang of the door behind you. You found a spot and Foggy, ever the gentleman, takes off his jacket to lay down on the ground for you.
You lay next to Foggy, his thick jacket protecting you from feeling the rough asphalt below you. Arms crossed over your stomach, you silently stare up at the New York stars, tracing invisible constellations in your mind.
A few minutes of comfortable silence pass between you two as you enjoy the peace of mind this environment brings you. The starlight on your faces, the sounds of the city surrounding you, the tiny rocks faintly digging into your back, not as bad as it could be thanks to Foggy's suit jacket under you.
"It's Matt," Foggy breaks the silence, barely speaking loud enough for you to hear him. You turn your head a little, looking over at him from the corner of your eyes. You see he’s still looking straight up at the sky, not ready to look at you. “I can’t get into it, but…” He shrugs, struggling to find the words. “I just- I know that things aren’t going to be the same.” He’s practically whispering now, like he’s worried you’ll run away if he speaks too loud.
You turn your head more to look at him fully with your ear now on the ground. There aren’t any words exchanged for a beat. “Well, whenever you can talk about it, you know where I’ll be.” He moves his head, now facing you. He nods gently, glad the two of you have an unspoken agreement about the roof and its sacredness.
He stares at you, looking into your eyes. Foggy looks at you with such intensity, you’d think he was trying to figure out all of your secrets. But this is normal. He always looks at you like this. Like every moment was a gift from God that he treasured.
Not that you knew that’s why he looked at you that intensely.
No, you two were just good friends. You had been best friends with Foggy since he and Matt started at Landman and Zach. You get along with Matt just fine but you’ve always been closer to Foggy.
As you return the stare in his eyes, you see his eyes move. From your eyes to your lips, to your nose and hair. There’s a foreign tension in the air. Usually, the air between you two is light and carefree, but now it’s heavy. It sits like a blanket over you. The silence is thick and almost tangible until Foggy breaks the silence.
“I love you.” He speaks, the first time anyone has spoken in a while. A hint of sincerity drips from his words, going unnoticed by you.
“I love you too,” you respond, smiling. This wasn’t the first time you two had said this. You didn’t say it all the time, but often enough. You both loved each other. He knows everything about you and you know everything about him.
He immediately starts shaking his head. He leans up, turning around to continue looking at you. He sits with his palms against the gravel, fingers splayed apart, neck turned almost painfully back at you. You follow his actions, sitting up and still looking at him with furrowed brows.
“No, I love you. I think about you all the time. I think about how your eyes glow when you hear your favorite song. I think about how you remember some random person's birthday but don’t remember to drink water. I think about the way you hunch over the table when we play a board game. I love you. I love everything about you.”
Your mouth hangs barely open in shock. Your mind blanks for a second, a minute, or maybe an hour. You aren't entirely sure. His voice brings you out of whatever trance you're in. "And I just ruined our friendship because you don't feel the same." He's barely able to finish the sentence before you start talking.
"No, no, no, no, no," you rush out. "It's not that, Foggy. I just... it took me by surprise." You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. "I think about you too." You begin speaking after a moment of thick silence. "I think about how you run your hands through your hair when you're nervous, how you belt out sea shanties when you think you're alone, how you have different dorky ringtones for just about everyone... I love you too, Foggy. " Your cheeks now tinted with a slightly rosy tint, you look at him, really look at him, and smile.
“I do not!- how did you know about the sea shanties?” His tone begins as defensive but then shifts to curious. A smile grows on your face, taking up half of it from how big you’re smiling. You begin to laugh, and he joins in but still skeptical about how you knew what he thought was a secret only he knew.
“Let’s just say a drunk Matt is very willing to talk about you.” You say with a shit-eating grin now on your face. The two of you sit in that moment, Foggy thinking about what other secrets Matt may have told you, and you smiling nervously, waiting for him to acknowledge your reciprocated feelings.
He must sense your growing nerves, as he ignores the thoughts of all the embarrassing things he’s done in front of Matt and focuses back on you. You, with the shining eyes and bright smile.
“Anyways,” he begins, shaking his head, “would you… would you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date… with me? I know this new Thai place that opened up on 42nd and 9th. If not, that’s-”
You continue to smile, putting your hand over his, making him stop his rambling. “Foggy, I’d love to. How’s Saturday? Say, 6 o’clock?”
He starts nodding his head, smiling even brighter than you are.
“That’s great. I’ll pick you up then.”
“Great, it’s a date.”
You two look at each other, a sense of what can only be described as longing in both pairs of eyes. Longing for more but knowing you have to wait, at least just a little while.
‘Thank whatever God is up there,’ Foggy thinks. ‘Thank God this is real.’
#foggy nelson#foggy nelson x reader#foggy nelson x you#foggy nelson imagine#foggy nelson fic#foggy nelson x y/n#valentines day
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