#asking permission from my friends to post their work here so i may post more in the future!!
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commission of pavane from my friend polka_bunny on twitter✨
#this has been my lockscreen for monthsss look how gorjus….#asking permission from my friends to post their work here so i may post more in the future!!#i’ve been sitting on a pile of stuff i’ve commissioned or gotten in trades#and need to archive it somewhere#and also i need everyone to appreciate my friends so here’s the first i love u polkabunny….#archembeau marionette
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Art theft has always been bad, but I feel like the way tiktok promotes remixing other people’s content into “your own” has ESPECIALLY proliferated the idea that, if something is on the internet, it’s anyone’s to take.
like. My friend just found these comments on a tiktok someone made of their comic:
This is why I don’t allow reposts. Because even if I give one person permission, even if they credit me and do everything I ask, you never know who is going to steal it from them.
So here’s your reminder:
If you see fanart or a fancomic you like, you ABSOLUTELY MAY NOT share it without checking if it’s ok first.
IF YOU RUN A FAN ACCOUNT. I’M LOOKING AT YOU. YOU’RE NOT HELPING ‘EXPOSE’ ARTISTS BY POSTING STOLEN ART YOU’RE JUST BEING SELFISH AND DISRESPECTFUL. @‘ING ME ON INSTAGRAM ISN’T GOING TO FIX THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN’T ASK PERMISSION
THIS GOES FOR TRANSLATIONS. I UNDERSTAND WANTING TO MAKE A COMIC MORE ACCESSIBLE TO YOUR LANGUAGE, BUT IT’S STILL A CONCERN THAT IT WILL GET STOLEN FROM YOU (and I KNOW some people don’t ACTUALLY care about it being more accessible, because I’ve asked people to reblog my original post with a translated transcription and they threw a fit because they obviously just wanted the views for their own page)
Comic dubbers are also not exempt from needing to ask for permission. I know there’s a lot of editing and you are technically producing new content, but jfc you still need to ASK TO USE SOMEONE’S ART. ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE MONETIZING YOUR PAGE.
I also DO NOT CARE if your pinterest page is “just for your personal reference” STOP UPLOADING ARTWORK AS ORIGINAL POSTS. IF YOU MUST PIN ART, JUST POST THE LINK!!!! I die a little inside every time someone says they saw one of my comics on pinterest and had a hard time finding my actual post.
Why is it important that artists stay credited? Well, I for one, am about to start my junior year of my BFA, and I won’t be able to work my part-time job anymore. My art is going to be only source of income. Every time someone reposts my art without credit, that’s more people that won’t find the link to my store. That’s potential job recruiters that won’t find my portfolio. That’s work that I’ve done that someone else is getting activity for, potentially even making money off of.
Please, PLEASE be aware of art theft. Point it out when you see it. Please understand most artists see it as offensive and disrespectful and are not flattered by it.
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i never thought you’d happen to me - 1
part two / part three
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut (part two), fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀 (part two). if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: just a bit over 6k.
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card.
fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think! 🥰
It’s another late Friday night as you and the team lounge around the common room, nearly empty takeout containers scattered around the table, glasses and bottles of your drinks much the same. There’s a movie no one is watching playing on the large screen as the current conversation around you continues.
You’re not sure how telling a story from your last mission with Bucky has turned into this once again, but here you are. Another cute remark from Sam about his expectancy to be in the wedding party earns him another glare from you.
“Hey, you side-eye now but in ten years you’ll look back and realize how right we all were,” he says, elbowing Bucky slightly. “Tinman by your side,” he adds with a grin - clearly amused with himself.
“That is not my future,” you say with a humorless chortle.
“I can show you your future,” Wanda speaks from her spot on the couch, everyone turning their heads at once to look at her. She’s been unusually quiet the past few minutes - not engaging much in the conversation as she observed it instead. She takes another sip of her wine as she meets your gaze, foot swinging lazily as she keeps one leg crossed over the other.
She tilts her head at you while you eye her with a raised brow, a look of incredulity on your face.
“What?” she questions, confused at not only yours, but everyone’s, lack of response.
“Come on,” you laugh lightly, brushing her off.
“I’m serious.”
“Wanda, I don’t need to see what my future looks like to know that Bucky will be playing no part in it.”
A round of scoffs, snickers and a groan erupt from around the living room as you roll your eyes. You catch Bucky, seated across from you, doing the same as you turn your face.
“You’re all very funny, and I’m glad you’re amused with yourselves, but I can’t sit here and listen to the same inane conversation over again, soooo,” you pause for a breath, “I’m going to bed,” you clap as you stand from your spot on the couch.
“Look, I don’t speak for everyone, but I am not joking in the slightest,” Kate laughs as she leans back into her seat. Aiming finger guns at you and Bucky, “You guys,” she says, “are endgame.”
“And you, my friend, are drunk.”
Another round of laughs before the previous chatter resumes among the group, a story of misadventure now being told from Parker’s perspective, and you can hear Stark’s interjections already.
You grab your empty glass and head to the kitchen, Wanda following shortly after you.
“You’re stubborn,” she says with no preamble.
You turn with a quirked brow, “Am I?”
“Very. So much so, I think I may need your permission.”
“Sorry...uhm, for?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I think you should see it.” Your face falls slack at her words as you turn back to finish washing out your glass.
“Wanda, -” you go to laugh again.
“No, actually,” she stops you, correcting herself, “you need to see it. You’re stunting yourself. You’re constantly getting in your own way. I think it’d be good for you, to see what you can have if you finally allow it to come to you.”
You're quieted by her sincerity for a moment, half because you weren’t taking any of the previous conversation seriously, and half because you didn’t think it was something she was actually capable of doing. In fact, you still didn’t. But if she wanted to try, who were you to argue.
“Uhhh,” you begin, shaking your head lightly, “I mean, if you really want to, then, go for it, I guess. You have my permission.”
“Good,” she smiles, turning to walk back out to the other’s.
“Wow, wait,” you stop her, “like, what exactly are you gonna do?”
“Just a swap,” she says simply. “A day in the life of your future self. You don’t have to do anything, just go to sleep tonight and you’ll see.”
Your eyes narrow in thought, “...This isn’t dangerous, right?”
“No, not at all. You guys will be fine. 24 hours and you’ll wake up in your own beds, safe and sound. I promise.”
She smiles and flits away quickly. You shake your head at yourself again, still unsure what exactly you’ve agreed to. And it isn’t until you’re walking down the hallway back to your room that what she said actually catches up to you.
You guys will be fine?
You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, glancing back to find Bucky coming down the hall. You swallow hard and turn back around, not far from your door.
“Stalker much?” you say without facing him, earning a scoff in return.
He’s barely a step behind you now, though his sudden proximity is not all that surprising. You’ve grown used to his stealth.
“In your dreams.”
“More like waking nightmares. Every time I turn around it’s like you’re always just right there.”
“Maybe if you didn’t put yourself into jeopardy every five minutes I wouldn’t have to shadow you so often.”
You’re walking side by side and you get to your door as he speaks. You turn on him, instantly irritated.
“Are you being serious?” you level at him. He doesn’t respond. “How are you still hung up on Belarus? It was one mission. That was not on me, I didn’t fuck up. No one else saw them coming, either,”
“I did.”
“Well, sorry I’m not as infallible as the one and only Bucky Barnes,” you speak exaggeratedly, annoyance clear in your tone. “You still act like I’m some kind of liability. I’ve been careful. I’m riding a lengthy no injury streak and we’ve still yet to fail a single mission. After how many assignments we’ve been on together, you think you’d start taking me more seriously.”
“I never said I didn’t take you seriously. Just think sometimes you’re still a little too cocky for your own good.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m not clueless, Barnes. I don’t need you monitoring my every move. Not during training, not on missions, and definitely not walking down a hallway at night. I think I can handle getting to my room alone. Or is assuming that too cocky of me?” you ask with a tilt of your head, sarcasm dripping off your tongue.
You don’t wait for a response before you turn to your door and let yourself in, snapping it shut behind you.
You flick on the light and are quickly greeted by a room that is… definitely not yours. You pause for a second, taking in your surroundings before you deflate with a sigh, following it up with a deep breath. You turn the light back off and then turn back around to the door. You wait for a second longer with your hand on the handle before you force yourself to exit the room.
Just like you knew he would be, Bucky is still standing right where you left him; a stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“Wrong room,” he says.
“Fuck off,” you grumble as you walk a little further down the hall, to your actual door.
“Goodnight to you, too,” Bucky says as he continues to his own room, not far from you. You send him a glare and a “hmph” before shutting your door and getting ready for bed.
You’re not helpless. You’re not clueless. You’re damn good at what you do. But fuck if Bucky doesn’t have a knack for knocking you off kilter with a single look.
—-
It’s a soft shaking that wakes you from your peaceful sleep. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move - you don’t even want to blink open your eyes. But the shaking comes again. Your brows furrow as your arms tighten around your pillow and you cuddle further into it.
Only it’s not your pillow.
It takes a second for you to process that instead, it’s a warm body you’re pressing yourself against before your eyes snap open.
You look up and find a confused Bucky staring down at you.
When your eyes meet, though, there’s a bit of softness there. And as you take in his face, you relax a bit again. His presence beside you is at once comforting as it is confounding.
“What are you doing?” you both ask at the same time - only furthering your confusion.
You suddenly realize you’re still wrapped around him and quickly sit up and give him space.
“Why are you in my bed?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says as he looks around, “but I don’t think we’re at the tower.”
You look up and blink away the fuzziness. Then it hits you.
“Oh shit,” you murmur.
“What? You know where we are?” he asks as he stands and starts looking around, inspecting the room. “Better yet, how the hell we got here?”
“Maybe…Would you believe me if I said we might possibly be in the future?”
Bucky turns and looks at you incredulously.
“Wanda,” you speak at the same time.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says as he runs a hand over his face.
“In my defense,” you begin, “when I agreed to this, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. I also didn’t think it’d involve anyone else..”
“What do you mean you agreed to this? What is this?”
“She said I needed to see the future. It’d be good for me, or whatever, so I said okay. She said it was uh, a future swap? 24 hours. Day in the life and then I’d wake up back in my own bed the next day.”
“And you agreed to it?”
“Fuckin’, yeah, obviously,” you huff. “I didn’t think it’d be.. Real? I don’t know.”
“So, so what? We’re stuck in some unknown future for the next 24 hours?”
“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?”
“Why would you agree to something like this without fully knowing what it is you’re agreeing to? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I say-”
“Spare me, Barnes. It’s Wanda, okay? We’re fine. It’s 24 hours, and I’m assuming that clock started when we fell asleep last night, so really it’s only…,” your voice dies down as you look to the clock on the bedside table. The time isn’t what catches your eye, though.
No.
It’s the framed photo behind it that derails your train of thought.
“No fucking way,” you breathe as you grab it in disbelief.
You stare at the photo of you and Bucky, a close up of you in a sweet embrace, adorning soft smiles as you share a chaste kiss, your left hand touching his cheek, and what you can only assume is a wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.
This has to be some kind of dream. That’s it. You’re dreaming. Duh. Your hand moves before your mind does and you slap yourself in your face as hard as you can manage, sure it’ll wake you up and you’ll be back in the tower, in your own bed, alone.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims in surprise as you wince slightly and hold your cheek as it stings. He walks over to you, becoming more tentative as you look up at him.
“‘M not dreaming. Are you?”
“No, I’m wide awake, believe me,” he says as he gets closer. “Don’t slap me, either.”
You eye him harshly before handing him the frame.
“Well, it.. Explains why you’re here, at least,” you say, voice quieter than you intended as your thoughts were still reeling. “We’re not just in my future, we’re in-”
“Our future,” he finishes as he stares at the photo himself.
“Yeah.”
“So, our room…” he says more to himself than to you. He makes his way around the room, pulling open drawers and looking in the closet as you stand and head for the bathroom.
You meet yourself in the mirror, sure enough, you still look the same. You’re you.
Walking back out into the room, you head for the window, pulling back the curtain. As you peer out, you’re expecting to see a skyline, or city street, but instead you’re met with the view of an open yard.
You pull away from the window in surprise, “Are we in a house?”
You turn to Bucky, who turns to face you. You both head to the bedroom door, you following behind him as he takes the lead.
It’s a house. Definitely a house.
The bedroom door leads to a long hallway, three doors along the right back wall, another door at the far end opposite your own, and to the left of that, on the left wall, is another room.
In the middle of the hallway is an opening, and you and Bucky turn there without inspecting any of the other rooms.
You find yourselves in a living room, before walking into the kitchen.
“We should look around,” you say in a whisper - why, you aren’t sure.
“What exactly are you planning on finding?” he questions as you pull open a drawer, sifting around.
“I don’t know? More information. Like what we’re doing here. What we do. What year it is. Maybe we learn something and it’ll send us home sooner? I don’t know, just, something,” you answer, on edge already by being surrounded by the unknown and only growing more agitated at his every word.
“Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not getting-,” you stop yourself, taking a breath, “sorry. Okay? I thought you were trying to be a dick,”
“Why do you assume I’m being a dick?” he asks, annoyed himself now.
"Because you always act like a fucking dick!", you nearly yell as you slam the kitchen drawer shut.
"Fucking dick!"
You both freeze at the high, sweet-sounding voice that comes from behind you. Your brows furrow as you glance at Bucky, his reaction to the mirthful echo much the same as yours, before you both slowly turn around.
The sight you're met with has you both frozen in shock.
A set of twin toddlers clad in matching pajamas, both of whom bear a striking resemblance to you and Bucky, are staring at you both.
You can't explain why, but your heart is gripped by the mere sight of them. It's something more than just their cuteness, it's something instinctual. How it's possible, you're not sure, but you know, somehow, that they're really yours. Future or not, those are absolutely your kids.
It seems with each passing moment, you and Bucky are left more and more stunned by how your future is turning out, but as you notice the little boy's eyes watering and the pout on his little lips as he looks right at you, you can't seem to care about anything else.
“Hey, buddy,” you squat down and hold your arms open for him, and he waddles to you right away as his eyes well more and more. He hugs you, still pouting as he cuddles into your chest and you hold him tightly as you stand, exchanging another glance with Bucky who looks nearly stupefied until the soft voice of the girl rings out once again.
Your eyes shoot to her as she twirls around clumsily, a chant of "fucking dick" leaving her lips over and over before she starts to tilt, seemingly having made herself dizzy. You're about to gasp, moving forward instinctually as you watch her wobble a bit more, but she's in Bucky's arms in an instant as he grabs her before she falls.
"Woah, there, sweetheart," he says with a small laugh as she dramatically goes limp in his arms. An exhausted breath leaves her little lungs as she breathes out the repetition one final time. She then lifts her tiny hand up to Bucky’s cheek, effectively slapping him as she plants it, blinking up at him. “What’s this?” she asks him curiously as she smooshes his face, feeling his stubble.
“Uhh…It’s hair. I haven’t shaved - Ow,” he exaggerates when she interrupts him and pats his cheek again, a bit harder this time, though you know it didn’t hurt him in the slightest. It makes the girl laugh, though.
“You should shave, Daddy,” she advises, pulling a face.
Her words pull a breathless laugh from him as he gazes down at the small girl, a lump forming in his throat as he takes everything in. He feels crazy, but he can see you in her, and he can see himself, too. Her and her brother, they both look like the perfect little combinations of the two of you. And they’re both so comfortable with you guys. So at ease and uninhibited, just like children should be..
It’s a stark contrast to how he grew up and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of pride, knowing that he isn’t repeating the cycle he swore would die with him.
He’d stopped letting his mind wander to what if futures long ago, but when he did imagine what it’d be like to have a family of his own, this is the kind of peace he longed for. The happy, settled down future he was sure he’d never have.
And you.
Your hand has been mindlessly rubbing the boy's back in an effort to comfort him as he cuddles into you, that never faltering pout pulling every string your heart has as Bucky attends to the girl relaxing in his arms.
"Linc's sad, Mommy," the girl says, pointing at her brother. The title has you swallowing hard, your heart clenching at how sweetly she calls to you.
Linc?... Must've been Bucky, you think briefly before you gently pull him away from you slightly so you can see him better, his bleary blue eyes peering up at you.
"Why are you yelling at Daddy?" he pouts still. Your brows furrow and mouth parts on an inhale, as if you're going to answer him, but nothing comes out as you try and think of what you can say. His innocent question stumping you.
"It's alright, pal, we were just kiddin' around," Bucky offers as he gets closer to you both. You look at him, a bit guilty but thankful for the save.
"Can we have pancakes, Daddy?" the girl asks as she wriggles around like a worm in his hold.
"Pancakes! Please!" Linc smiles as he continues hanging onto you, seemingly happy with Bucky's defense of you - any qualms he had long forgotten as he’s now focused on the mention of pancakes for breakfast.
"Sure," you answer for him, acquiescing easily with a smile before looking to Bucky with wide eyes.
You’re not entirely sure how exactly this all happens, but somehow you end up married with two kids. As shocking as it is, and as confused as you are about how, a part of you is grateful - maybe even happy - that Bucky is here. He may be an ass a lot of the time, overbearing and micromanaging your every move, but you guys have been through hell and back together. Partners from the very start of your time as an Avenger. If you’re being honest, this future makes more sense than you previously wanted to admit.
In an attempt to not freak out the twins, you know you have to play the part. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary and that you are indeed their mom. You are, technically, but you don’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing or what’s wholly needed of you. You’ve nannyed before, though. You know the basics..
"Have we brushed our teeth yet?" you ask the twins, sure the answer is a "no". Your and Bucky's arguing clearly is what woke them up, the yelling must have led them out here from their room.. Rooms?
"Mhm," the girl hums, though just from looking at her, the lie is evident as she avoids looking directly at you.
"Don't lie, Ellie," her brother chastises.
Ellie.. That must've been me, you think with a twitch of a smile before you set Linc down.
"Alright, go with Buc- your dad, and I'll start on the pancakes," you instruct before the twins burst out in giggles. You frown, brows furrowing as you watch them, hoping they'll let you know what exactly is so funny.
"No, we want daddy's pancakes, Mommy!"
"With chocolate chips and syrup!"
"Yeah, they want Daddy's pancakes, Mommy," Bucky taunts with a smirk as you shoot him an annoyed look. He seems a lot more comfortable now than he was a few minutes ago, and you can’t help but notice how easily he seems to be taking this; easing into his role in this place and time. He’s good.
"What's wrong with my pancakes?" you press the toddlers.
"Daddy's are better, but it's okay, your grilled cheese is the best,"
"Yeah! Oh, can we have grilled cheese for lunch, Mommy? Please, please, pleeease," Ellie begs cutely, leaning to you while still in Bucky's hold.
You huff a laugh, agreeing as Bucky sets Ellie down to follow you.
"See if you can find anything," you tell him as you meet his eye before following after the tikes pulling on your hands.
"Don't forget the chocolate, Daddy!"
Bucky watches as you're led to the bathroom before he starts moving around the kitchen. He's about to start looking around for more information on when exactly you are, and the kind of life you’re living, but thinks better of it for now. He'd rather not have two toddlers throw a fit over unfinished pancakes on top of everything else he's trying to wrap his head around at the moment.
He finds the pantry and grabs all the ingredients he needs for his mom's pancake recipe - the one he knows by heart- and gets to work on the batter. The chatter from the kids and you in the bathroom floats into the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice as you talk to them.
He soon loses himself in the simplicity of the task at hand, and how nice it is to be here like this. He's in pajamas on a Saturday morning, making breakfast for his family as they start their day..
Seems entirely unreal, but a dream nonetheless. And as if that wasn’t enough to have his thoughts in a flurry, he still can't shake the feeling of how nice it was waking up with your soft body pressed against his. Opening his eyes to discover the warmth beside him was you. He was confused at first, wondering when and how you’d gotten into his room, but more so concerned about the why. He watched you for a minute before he noticed the bedding draped over the both of you. It wasn’t his and when he looked around the room, he realized he had no idea where you guys were. You were wrapped around him as you laid together in the comfy king bed, and it took him a second to try to wake you up. He knew he had to, of course, but if he was honest, he didn’t want the feeling to end. Your hold on him was comforting and he was completely at ease in your embrace, circumstances be damned. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembers the last time he felt that way, and of course it was with you. You were stuck in a shoddy motel off the highway during a storm, the crappy jeep you’d been traveling in finally gave out half way through your drive back to the compound and you guys had no choice but to crash for the night. Of course the motel only had one singular room available with one singular bed. After some back and forth, you both decided you’d just share. It was big enough for the two of you, with space in between. When Bucky woke up that next morning, though, he found himself holding you tightly from behind, your arms wrapped over his as you slept peacefully in his embrace. He remembers the heat that crept up his neck and the flurry in his stomach that he still refuses to acknowledge as butterflies. He quickly loosened his hold and slipped away from you before you could even bat an eye. You were still none the wiser. He thought about that morning a lot after it happened.
He wondered what would’ve happened if you had woken up, too. What you would’ve said, what he could’ve said to you if he’d finally gotten out of his own way..
He can’t dwell on it anymore, though. He hasn’t. He won’t.
Except maybe he does.
And seeing as this is your future together, he thinks maybe that’s not as hopelessly embarrassing as he’s made himself believe it is.
And god, the sight of those kids. The warmth that bloomed in his chest as he took in their faces, he honestly was worried he would start crying if he stared too long. He had long given up on the idea of starting a family, he didn't think this life would ever be in the cards for him, and especially not with you.
But as he stood pouring chocolate chip pancake batter into a sizzling pan, he was struck by how right it felt.
Obviously, it wasn't right, neither of you should be here right now, and it made him wonder where exactly the future you and him were.
As soon as the thought went through his head, a tablet he hadn’t taken notice of on the back counter dinged.
He flipped the pancakes before he went to get the pad, taking the tablet in his hands. His face unlocked the device easily and opened up to his email account.
He clicked on the new, unread message from.. you?
—-
Hey Bucky.
Wanda says this is unnecessary but if I know me, I’m still probably freaking out internally. So, just letting you know that everything's fine. Or so she says.
We're gonna be back to our respective places in time come tomorrow.
I know waking up in the future - especially our future - may be hard to wrap your heads around, but it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up alone to a preening Wanda staring at you, trust me.
And you guys aren’t as oblivious as you try to be. You know, deep down, exactly why you’re there. Together. - and why it isn’t all that crazy.
And this goes without saying, but obviously, take care of the kids. Eleanor and Lincoln. If you haven’t found them yet, they’ll find you, I’m sure.
Today at 2pm, you need to drop them off at 7314 Wisteria Drive. That's Steve and Nat's house - so don't make it weird. They're keeping the kids so we can celebrate our anniversary.
Funny how that lines up..
So, anyway, apparently all we need to do on both ends is enjoy the 24 hour downtime. We’ll be waking up in our own beds before we know it.
Okay.
Bye.
(I’d say I love you but I don’t wanna freak you out. x)
—
Bucky just stares down at the email blankly while his brain tries to catch up. He's gonna have to have you read it yourself. Before he can fixate on that last line in particular, he can smell the browning of the pancakes.
His attention quickly returns to the food as he starts to plate it, shutting off the burner. The kiddie plates he finds in a cabinet earn a half smile from him as he cuts up the pancakes for the kids and spots their booster seats, placing the plates before them.
He hears them before he sees them as they come down the hallway, all laughs.
You appear just after they do, a look on your face he can't turn away from. Your soft smile and the adoration swimming in your eyes as you watch your kids, both of them waiting to be lifted up to sit down, is.. beautiful.
He catches himself staring before he turns his focus back to the table, lifting Eleanor into her seat before lifting Lincoln in his, earning a "thank you, daddy," from each of them in return, a wave of astonishment and pride coming over him yet again. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that.
You listen as they talk back and forth about their pancakes and their laughter when they start playing with one another as they eat their lightly syruped bites.
You stand by Bucky, absentmindedly grabbing a pancake and biting into it, stopping almost immediately as the fluffiness catches you off guard. God, they were so right. These are amazing.
"Good, right?" Bucky's voice pulls you back as you swallow your bite.
You lick your lip before looking over at him. "Did you find anything?"
He hands you the tablet and watches as you read the email.
You click your tongue, and then stay silent for a minute.
He almost can’t believe it when you do it, looking at you incredulously once again after you suddenly slap yourself in the face once more.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he bites quietly, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of the kids momentarily.
"Just had to make sure," you reply, again cringing at the stinging of your cheek. You eye him before making a move to slap him, too, but he grabs your hand before you can make contact. He looks at you like you're insane as you huff again. "So this is..."
"This is real," he finishes for you. "That hard to believe, huh?"
"That's an understatement. So, I’m not dreaming. But are you sure you’re not dreaming?"
“You think my dreams involve waking up in the future with no memory of what’s gone on between me going to sleep to waking up? That’s a literal nightmare for me. Plus, I learned a while ago how to differentiate between my dreams and reality. Trust me, we’re not dreaming.”
You swallow thickly, an apology on the tip of your tongue. You hadn’t considered that before. Before you can voice your thoughts, though, you're distracted by the interaction between the kids at the table.
"Linc, I'll give you a piece and then you give me one of your piece, okay?"
"You take this one," Linc says as he gives his sister a piece off of his plate and she gives him a piece off of her's.
You can't help but chuckle at the exchange.
"We make cute kids, though," Bucky says, almost under his breath. But you still hear him, and you respond before your brain catches your tongue.
"Yeah, we do."
You push off the counter as Bucky watches you, surprised that you heard him and even more so by your agreement, though it'd be impossible for anyone to argue that your kids aren’t, in fact, ridiculously adorable.
"Do you guys want -"
"Orange juice, please!" Ellie answers before you even finish asking.
"And water, please," Linc follows.
"OJ and water, you got it."
----
You and Bucky get the kids ready to go to Steve and Nat's with minimal arguing... until you had to pack their bags.
What they should or shouldn't take with them was a point of contention as you ridiculed each other's choices. After your bickering and some input from Ellie and Linc, you guys just hoped they had everything they needed. You'd unnecessarily packed them three outfits each just in case of spills or messes and their diaper bag was loaded full, too. Maybe too much for one day, but better safe than sorry, right?
After loading the twins in the car, Bucky followed the GPS to the address you'd left in the email.
When you guys pulled up to the house, you were greeted by Natasha who was unloading groceries from her car. The domestic scene warmed your heart. She deserved the simplicity, the normalcy, and you were happy to know that one day, she’d have it.
She lit up as she saw you guys approaching and came right over, going straight for the back door.
Linc and Ellie were all smiles and giggles as they tried fruitlessly to escape their car seats in favor of being in Nat's arms.
"Bugs!!" Nat greeted them with an enthusiastic smile as she started working on their belts. "I've missed you guys so much! How long has it been? Ten years?"
They laughed in unison at her before Ellie corrected her. "Yesterday, Aunt Nattie!"
"Yesterday?" she questioned in faux disbelief.
She wasn't able to keep up the play, though as the second they were out of their seats, they nearly tackled her.
You watched Steve come outside, coming up to the car with a grin, a girl no more than ten and another toddler, maybe a little older than the twins, in tow.
"Get them inside for me, honey," Nat said to the oldest one. She looked nothing like either of them, dark hair and dark eyes, but still it was clear she was their daughter. The younger one looked like Steve, though, and you wonder briefly if that was just by chance or if they’d had a surrogate. Natasha had talked about the possibility before, and of adopting, but starting a family wasn’t something any of you were actually considering at the time, settling down and having kids wasn't really your focus when you were all trying to make sure the world wouldn’t be ending tomorrow. "We'll be right in. And pick a movie for the sleepover before your Dad does," she pretended to whisper, earning a laugh from the girl as she corralled the kids up the porch.
Nat turned her gaze back on you and Bucky, her stare nothing less than scrutinizing.
"Are you guys in pajamas?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Mh, uh, yeah," you laughed a little breathlessly before looking back at the house, distracted. "They didn't even say bye," you said in your disappointment. You'd only just met the kids, but you felt so instantly connected to them.
"Don't worry about them, they're gonna have fun tonight. And so are you two," she says pointedly, if not a bit suggestively, pulling you from your thoughts. You feel the heat that creeps up your skin and refuse to look at Bucky.
"What are you guys doin' tonight, did you decide?" Steve asks.
"Staying in," Bucky blurts out as you blink and smile. But their faces at that, their smirks of acknowledgement make you grow hotter as you try to not let your embarrassment show.
"Mhm," you hum tight lipped.
It's quiet for a moment as you all watch one another before Steve breaks the silence.
"You guys are acting weird."
"Are we?" you question back too quickly.
"Yeah. You are," Nat says.
"Sugar," Bucky blurts out again. "They're loaded up on sugar. Sorry, they really wanted pancakes this morning. But uh, look, thanks for watching them. We should uh, get going, so.."
"Yeah, we should go," you agree. "What time do you want us to pick them up?"
"We're dropping them off tomorrow afternoon, right?" Steve questioned. "Or did you not want them to go with us?"
"No, oh, right. Duh! I just forgot - that's what we talked about. Because you're taking them to.." you trail off, prompting them.
"The gardens?" Nat finishes.
"Right, yes, the gardens. Which is great. And we appreciate it so much. And if you need anything or anything happens, ya know just call us," you continue on as Bucky starts to pull away. You fight the urge you have to glare at him until you finish your awkward goodbye and Steve and Nat watch you both drive off, clearly confused about the weird interaction.
"Did you miss the part of the email where it explicitly said: don't make it weird?" Bucky asks.
"Fuck off, you were no better," you scowl as you slump in the seat. "What now?"
#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky x curvy!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#dad!bucky#mom!reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x avenger!reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#the slumberparty
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Picture Perfect
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)
Fandom: Bridgerton
Summary: Benedict's childhood best friend, who he's recently started courting, notices he's been a bit off lately and decides to see if there's anything she can do to help.
Word Count: 3,045
Category: Fluff, a little bit of Angst
A/N: It's been a minute since I rewatched season 2, so I may have the timing wrong a bit. For the purposes of this fic, though, Benedict finds out that Anthony paid to make sure he got into art school at the same time that they're all at the Bridgerton's country estate.
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
Something was wrong with my best friend.
I could tell from the minute I saw him, as his mind was clearly somewhere else. He also gave his brother Anthony a colder shoulder than usual, which I knew Anthony likely deserved, but that Benedict rarely gave him. It must've been something pretty bad.
A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to drag Benedict somewhere and get some answers out of him, followed by doing whatever I could to cheer him up. But unfortunately for the both of us, despite having grown up together, now that we were both adults in society and he had recently started courting me, we were no longer technically allowed to be alone together. Things were usually a bit looser when it was just the Bridgertons and I, but while I'd joined them for a trip to their country estate, another family had joined us as well, tying my hands more than usual.
Still, I managed to corner him slightly away from the rest of the group after dinner that night, when I'd first noticed something off. He'd been on his way upstairs, rather than joining the rest of us in the parlor after dinner, and I managed to get in front of him quickly enough to make him stop in the hallway.
"Benedict," I said, trying to keep my voice low. He let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't move to step past me, instead fixing me with a tired stare. I frowned. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "It's... nothing."
I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.
"Benedict Bridgerton, I have known you since the age of five. There is no chance of that terrible lie convincing me of anything, besides perhaps that I made the right decision about checking on you."
He sighed again, this time even heavier, and when he met my gaze again it was with an empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You remeber I shared my excitement with you about being accepted into art school?"
"Of course! Don't tell me something went wrong..."
He shook his head. "The opposite. Apparently my dear brother took it upon himself to make sure I got in, offering a bribe to secure my acceptance. Yet again, I fail to step out of my family's shadow and generate an accomplishment of my own, without their name and money securing it for me."
I frowned and reached out to touch his arm, but Eloise's voice from the other room promising to find where I'd wandered off to broke the moment. Benedict mustered that hollow smile again, then finally stepped around me.
"I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry about me. Just go enjoy the rest of your evening."
I frowned after him, but he didn't look back as he climbed the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. I briefly debated following him, but Eloise's hand on my elbow broke me from that thought.
"Y/N, what on earth are you doing out here? You're missing Kate and Anthony sparring over something trivial again."
I forced a smile onto my face that was hopefully more convincing than Benedict's and turned to face Eloise.
"Well, that's certainly something I don't want to miss. Let's go."
Eloise still looked like she had questions, but I didn't give her room to ask them as I joined the rest of our group in the parlor. Benedict stayed on my mind for the rest of the night, although I tried to hide my worry. Hopefully he'd been right about himself, and would be feeling better in the morning.
*****************
Benedict clearly wasn't feeling better in the morning. I was witnessing the man I loved having an existential crisis, and by the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit by an watch anymore, society and the Ton and the gossips be damned.
I spent the next hour gathering and setting up the things I'd need, then went to find Benedict. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the house, so I asked Eloise, who directed me to his bedroom.
I'd been in his bedroom before, of course, since we'd practically grown up together. But now that we'd started on the path to being something else to each other, with my heart registsering significantly more romantic feelings for the man Benedict had become, I found myself slightly nerovous as I stood outside his door. Still, I forced myself to ignore the nerves as best I could. Benedict was hurting, so everything else had to be put on hold while I helped him.
I knocked on his door, pretending my faster-than-normal heartbeat didn't exist as I waited for a response. That became much harder to accomplish when Benedict opened the door, his shirt far more open than normal and without anything over it, hair looking a rumpled mess. My heart did backflips, despite me mentally telling it to calm down.
"Y/N! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. I must look a mess-"
"No, not at all!" I said much too quickly. "You look, uh... very nice."
The familiar lopsided smile I loved so much appeared on Benedict's face as he leaned on the doorframe before me. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar spark of mischief that I loved so dearly igniting in his eyes, and for the first time in more than a day, he looked to be slightly back to himself.
"Well, I'm very glad to hear you think so. What brings you to my door, then?"
"You haven't seemed to be doing very well since you got the news about Anthony. And don't try to deny it, I know you too well. So, I thought I'd come find you and try to help cheer you up."
Benedict's eyebrow rose again as he crossed his arms.
"And what exactly did you have in mind?"
"I'll show you. But we're going to have to be a bit sneaky about leaving."
Benedict's mood lifted the moment he found out we were going to sneak out of the house together. We'd been regular trouble makers as children, sneaking out for adventures at least once a week, but since we'd both grown up that had basically come to a stop. Now, as I took his hand and dragged him along behind me and we ran through the countryside and left Bridgerton House in our wake, I couldn't stop a wild laugh from bubbling out of my chest. I'd missed this much more than I'd wanted to admit.
"Where are we going?" Benedict called, his own voice breathy and laced with laughter as we ran. I just shot him a grin back over my shoulder.
"You'll see!"
He huffed, but didn't protest as he followed after me. Finally, after winding through the woods and climbing a rather steep hill, we reached the spot I'd spent so long making nice this morning.
This hilltop looked out over the countryside stretching beautifully below us, even better now as the sun had started to get a bit lower in the sky. Waiting for us was a picnic blanket spread out in the grass with all of our favorite foods, wine, and an easel with art supplies set up right next to it. I dropped Benedict's hand as we came to a stop, instead turning to face him with a grin.
"Well? What do you think?"
He stared at everything I'd laid out, mouth open slightly in shock. His brow furrowed when he saw the canvas, and he turned back to me.
"What is all this?"
"It's a picnic, for the two of us," I said. "To watch the scenery and the sunset together without the pressures of society or being a Bridgerton to bring us down. The easel is optional–we can pack it away right now if you want to. But you told me you think Anthony's the reason you got into art school, and I don't agree. I've seen your work, and I know just how good it is. You got in on merit, Benedict. But I know I can't just say that and have you believe it, so I brought some supplies here so you can prove it, if you want to. Paint this moment for the two of us, and I'll swear on our relationship and everything I hold dear to be honest about what I think. Completely, totally, brutally honest."
Benedict's eyebrow quirked again.
"Well, I don't know if brutal is completely necessary..."
"I mean it, Ben. I hate to see you like this, doubting yourself. So if there's something I can do to counter Anthony's idiotic meddling, I'd like to."
"And what if..." He cleared his throat, emotion swirling in his gorgeous brown eyes as he met my gaze. "What if the truth would only serve to enforce what I know? That Anthony's meddling and money is the only reason I've gotten where I am."
I shook my head. "That won't happen-"
"Y/N." I stopped, biting my lip and forcing myself to meet Ben's stare again. He took a few steps forward until we were right in front of each other, then took my hands gently in his own. "What if it does?"
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Then I will keep my word and tell you so. One way or another, I will tell you the truth, even if it may not be what I want to tell you. I swear it, Ben."
He nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face. We stayed like that for a few long moments, and briefly, I thought Benedict might make a move to do something I never though he'd do with the Ton hovering over both our shoulders whenever we were together. But then he sighed, a smile returning to his face as he stepped away.
"Alright then. I believe you, and I value your opinion. And since you went to all the trouble to drag these supplies up here in the first place... I may as well get started."
I beamed at him. "I'll pour us some wine."
"Please."
When Benedict first sat down at his canvas, he kept fidgeting nervously, his hands hovering and twitching over various paints and brushes as he second-guessed his decisions. But slowly, as I kept up a stream of conversataion, supplying him with food and drink for fuel as he needed it, I noticed him beginning to relax.
"This is nice," I mused, leaning back on the picnic blanket and looking out at the scenery as Benedict worked. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky than when we'd left, which Benedict had grumbled about as it impacted his painting. Still, the golden light, soft breeze, and warm, fresh air felt like heaven to me.
"I agree," he said, not taking his eyes away from his easel. "I missed running off on adventures with you at the drop of a hat."
"So did I. But, hopefully... we may be able to get back to that again sometime soon."
Benedict looked over at me from his easel, a rougish grin on his face.
"If I didn't know better, Lady Y/L/N, I would think you were boardering on making me a marriage proposal."
I faced forward and closed my eyes under the guise of feeling the sun, trying to ignore my heart pumping frantically in my chest.
"Well. Fortunately for us both, you do know better. And it's not as if you're some strange man I met at court. You're... Ben. My best friend."
"I never said I wouldn't like it, did I? It would be an honor to be proposed to by you."
I cracked one eye open, turning my head to face Benedict with a grin. He wasn't looking at me, his stare focused on his canvas, his face completely serious. My heart stopped threatening to explode out of my chest, and instead settled into the unique, glowing warmth of love I felt whenever Benedict and I were together.
"I love you, Ben," I said, my voice soft and quiet. He stopped his work completely to turn and look at me, a soft smile on his face.
"I love you too. Very, very much." We held each others' stares for a moment, soaking in the comfort and joy of being together, and then Benedict's smile turned into a more edged grin. "It's a good thing we feel so strongly, since we may just be forced into an earlier marriage than planned to avoid a scandal after disappearing for an entire afternoon and evening together."
I huffed and waved him off. "Fortunately, I predict your brother will be accidentally helping us and making up for causing this crisis of confidence in the first place. He and Miss Kate Sharma are so ridiculous and dramatic together, I highly doubt anyone will notice we're gone."
Benedict chuckled, turning back to his work to scan it one last time before finally setting down his paintbrush. He took a deep breath, then stood and offered a hand to me.
"I've finished," he announced as I took his hand. He pulled my to my feet, but instead of looking at the painting, my eyes stayed fixed on him. We were almost chest to chest, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and darting eyes just how nervous he was about my verdict. "Remember, you promised me honesty."
"And honesty you will get."
Finally, I turned from Benedict to the canvas he'd been working on all afternoon. I'd resisted peeking before now at his request, so I wouldn't have any bias from watching his process. Fortunately, just as I'd predicted, his work was magnificent.
"Benedict..." I breathed as I took in the soft lines and vibrant colors before me. It perfectly captured how I felt looking out at the valley before us; it captured the gorgeous scenery, yes, but it also infused everything with a bit of magic that I only felt in this space with him. "This is absolutely incredible."
Benedict came around to stand next to me, arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head.
"Now please don't forget, you promised me honesty."
"I am being honest! Benedict, this is fantastic. The way you capture the myriad of different shades of the light shining across the valley, the seamless lines giving the world a slightly hazy, dreamlike look, and the way you've left the paint a bit messier with the clouds, to make it look like they're moving? It's all perfect, Ben. And masterful. It's a picture of the valley, yes, but it looks like it's alive. And you somehow managed to capture what it feels like to be here in the moment together, the sun on our faces, with each other even when we're not supposed to be, in a truly special way. You're an incredibly talented artist, and I'd be saying that even if you were a complete stranger that I didn't particularly like."
He snorted, then after a second, wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. I leaned into him immediately, sighing a bit as he leaned his head against mine.
"I have a hard time believing you'd say all that to a stranger you didn't like."
I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed without letting me go. A smile spread on my own face despite myself.
"Alright, maybe I wouldn't say all that to a stranger I didn't like. But I'd say it about their work when they couldn't hear me, probably to you. My point stands, Ben. You are a very skilled and talented artist. Anthony isn't the reason you got into that school. You are."
His chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath, and then finally, I felt him nod.
"Thank you. I can't promise it will always be easy for me to always believe it, but... I'll try to remember your words, and not my brother's, from now on."
"Good. And if you feel down again, you can always come to me. I'll always be there for you, Benedict, whenever you need me."
"And I you, my love," he said, moving down to whisper the words in my ear as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, too. He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into his chest for a moment before turning around in his arms to face him.
The beautiful, kind smile I'd fallen in love with stared back at me, along with his warm brown eyes. I smiled too, then finally stopped ignoring my racing heart and decided to continue the theme of ignoring the Ton and what they might say.
I leaned into Benedict, closing the distance between us with a glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Both of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away.
"Y/N... if anyone found out..."
I smiled. "They won't. Besides, they'd just make us follow through on something we're already planning, anyway."
Benedict huffed a laugh, his eyelids fluttering a bit as he looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real. Then, his arms tightened around my waist, and he leaned in even closer. I closed my eyes, feeling Benedict stop just a hair's breadth away from my lips.
"Are you sure-"
I closed the distance myself before he could continue. Benedict smiled into the kiss a moment later, pulling me closer to him, the two of us locked in each others' embrace as the sun set in the hills behind us. Truly, I didn't think anyone would be able to find out about how we'd spent our afternoon, but I also truly didn't care. I loved Benedict, and even though it was technically early in our courtship, I'd known him for most of my life. I knew we were meant to spend our lives together, and I knew he felt the same way as I did. Sooner or later, we'd make it official with an engagement and marriage, and be able to disappear together whenever we wanted without the Ton batting an eyelash. But, in the meantime, I didn't mind sneaking away for private moments like this one bit. No matter what had led to it in the first place.
****************
Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989
#sophie's year of fic#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton oneshot#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton oneshot#benedict bridgerton imagine#regency era#anthony bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#the bridgerton family#the bridgertons#bridgerton netflix#the bridgerton siblings#bridgerton season 2#kate sharma
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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
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Yandere Hobie and Miguel with a gn darling whose Aromantic
Warnings: yandere behavior, ALL PLATONIC!
A/N: day two of posting! hope you enjoy <3!
Hobie Brown:
Has no problem with it and already knows about your boundaries. The minute you sit him down, tell him you’re Aro — he finishes your sentence with a smirk, and laughs at your sheer expression when he doesn’t react in a way you’d think.
Extremely respectful, even as a yandere; already going out of his way to be respecting your boundaries and never brings up anything romantic, only plain Platonic uses. He makes sure your comfort and health comes first, and always seems to know what to say next whenever you two talk.
Might as well have a label pin as Most Protective Best Friend™. Always knowing where you are, ensuring you’re taking good care of yourself, no idiotic or trash love interests will come near you when he’s around, and clings to you one way or another. Hobie loves to sneak in little touches when acceptable, especially if it’s around your shoulders or waist.
Treats you like a younger sibling. Laughs when you make mistakes or piss off Miguel, teaches you guitar, sometimes spoiling you and giving you advice when needed. But his actions could be somewhat of what boyfriends do. He ‘pays’ for your food, surprising you with things that you’d least expect, and gives you tight hugs. Let’s not forget about the knuckle rubs on the heads too, and light kisses on your forehead.
A man who you can rely on for support, help, and secrets. No matter what, he’s here for you, with open arms, and ready to give you the entire world if you asked. Hobie is more on the affectionate side, and with your permission, he likes to kiss your cheek and forehead platonically; nuzzling his nose as the two of you laugh.
Sleepovers galore. Every other night, the two of you are in each other’s bedrooms, doing parallel play if you’re okay with it, and often showing you things he seems interesting.
Miguel O’Hara:
Confused by the term, but when you take time to explain to him, Miguel is quickly on board and nods along; being awkwardly quiet as he takes in the information. He’s older, but is respectful. It may take him some time to understand, but nevertheless, Miguel will follow your boundaries.
Not the best at showing his appreciation, especially if you prefer physical touch, or words of affirmation. Naturally, he gives you gifts, listening to you when you require things, and going out of his way to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself: making dinner, letting you use his money to buy whatever, and get enough vitamin D.
More possessive than ever. Doesn’t like sharing, and likes keeping you to himself so that you can bother him. Even though he might give you the side eye, he frankly enjoys you talking about anything — especially if he’s working.
Everything you can expect from a romantic relationship is the same with Platonic, just considerably toned way up with him defending or protecting you. Miguel is haunted by the thoughts of you being hurt, which means you are by his side 24/7, which also comes with another talk: no dating.
Not a huge fan with you going on dates, especially if it’s away from him. But, he’ll come to term with it sooner or later — but expressing strict rules he expects you to follow. Things like he has to meet your s/o immediately, know their background, and questions them on things about you.
Will gently say ‘I love you’ at the most randomest times. Really tries his best to show his affection, and with his past, it’s hard. Whenever he says it, it’s almost like he didn’t mean to say it – the words seemingly passing through his lips as he looks at you lovingly.
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AITA for not picking my brothers side against our mother?
Some background information:
My brother (let’s call him Collin) is trans (20m) We come from a relatively Catholic (we aren’t religious but the influence is deffo there) conservative country and have been living in the USA for most of our lives. My mother definitely can’t be considered LGBTQ allies, although they are much more understanding than some of the people here, especially in the south— which is impressive considering where we come from.
She is TERRIBLE with using the correct pronouns for Collin, so much so that he doesn’t contact her much anymore. I’ve never tried to get him to do otherwise— it’s his choice, and I still respect him. I can understand it.
Shortly before he moved away, he’d rant to me about her. I was pretty good with listening and giving advice/support for the first few years, but towards the end of high school (when the school work stress was piling up, along with other external family issues), it started to weigh on me. I wanted (and still want) to be someone Collin can confide in, but I still love my mother. She has made improvements with her close-mindedness, even if they aren’t huge steps. Whenever I try to give reasons for her behavior or just try to get them to get along, he accused me of siding with her. A lot of his perceptions of her seem warped these days, too. Like a while ago he was talking with me via text about one of his friends/coworkers (who is gay). He told me not to mention to our mother that this friend is gay— this friend, by the way, is fully out and married. A few months later I slipped and mentioned it to my mother (she had suggested that this friend probably likes this woman we know and I said “no mom he’s gay!”). And she didn’t really react? She just bluescreened for a moment (the trademark “confused boomer pause”) and went on with the conversation.
I’ve had a lot of talks with her about LGBTQ issues, and I’ve actually managed to get her to consider the fact that homophobia may stem from religion (she is a very science>religion kind of person). She wholeheartedly believes that LGBTQ issues should not be politicized.
(Not an ally, not an enemy.)
anyway, all this to say that Collin has a very 2D impression of her. Last year I went to pick him up at the airport, and mom called while we were in the car to remind us to stop by [store] and pick something up. When the call ended, Collin snorted and said something like “the bitch couldn’t have just sent a text?”
I told him, a bit snappishly, to shut up. He looked surprised and I felt bad, but I told him that I didn’t want any in part in the conflict and that he should stop bringing me into it.
I was also kind of pissed at him at the time for posting the story of an argument between our mother and I (my period was a month late, she thought I was pregnant*— not even an argument she was just annoyingly suspicious for a week or two) online. He changed names for privacy, but there were people who knew who he was so it wasn’t that hard to figure out who his “sister” was. Since I never gave him permission to share it with anyone, I asked him to take it down. He did eventually.
but I guess that could be for another AITA post.
*I have never dated or shown interest in dating anyone.
Overall, I feel that he has the right to argue/have a bad relationship with our mother. But I also have a right to let it affect me without being labeled as a bad or traitorous sister.
What are these acronyms?
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UPDATE 12/3: They are indeed a plagiarist. :/
📍 possible plagiarism psa
Hi all, I wanted to give you a quick heads up on a possible wattpad plagiarist called Angry_popcorn. This situation is complicated by the fact that they have been translating fics into Spanish and, from what it sounds like, adding some transformative elements.
As I don't speak Spanish myself, I don't have great perspective and the situation may be more nuanced than I realize. For this reason, as well as the fact that you should never harass people in the first place, I ask that you do not send any hate to this writer.
Instead, if you are a writer, please go to their profile, check for your works (or grab a Spanish-speaking friend and check for your works), and message them asking them to take the fic down/report if you find one of yours.
I would also greatly appreciate it if any Spanish speakers with spare time on their hands could go through this writer's profile to see if you see any fics that are familiar to you, and reach out directly to any authors that were copied. (Please let the copied authors determine how they'd like to handle the situation themselves, please do not confront this person directly yourself).
For context on why I am posting this, this morning I saw these comments on one of my ao3 fics:
Sure enough when I checked the author's wattpad, any fic called "DPA" was deleted, but I did find mention of it in their profile, confirming that it had existed, as my commenter had said:
This sort of confirms for me personally that this author did knowingly copy my fic, as I can't think why else they would take it down. Although again, I never saw the text of the fic in question, so please understand that I may not have all the information here.
One last note is that typically I like to handle plagiarism situations more privately. I like to get second and third opinions so I know I'm not being crazy, and then I will speak directly to the plagiarist. I will spend time going through their other works to see if they have copied anything else I am aware of, and will reach out to those authors to help them handle privately as well. However, because I don't read any Spanish I am unable to do the same here, and for that reason I've made this a public post instead.
If you are a reader, once again I would please like to ask you not to send any hate to this person. Just check for copied works, and message only the authors whose works you believe were copied. I try very hard to use the "platform" I have here responsibly, and I will see it as a betrayal of my trust if you harass them. Thank you in advance for respecting my wishes!!
Lastly, thank you to the commenter who brought this to my attention, and who gave me permission to bring this to the attention of other writers in the community.
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𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
Storyteller, exes to lovers fanatic.
✩ She/her ✩ 22 ✩ Jewish ✩ aftg ✩ marauders
-Asks and Answers: #mere answering things ;)
-Rules, permissions, and FAQs regarding my fics
-Rules for podfics and translations
-Sideblog for casual posting: @mereinthewoods
WIPS
★ Every Omen in the Valley
╰┈➤ WIP | Jegulus. Soulmate AU, Sports/college AU. Enemies to friends with benefits to lovers. (On hiatus until April!)
★ Tennesee Baby
╰┈➤ WIP | student x teacher. Regulus is an amateur writer hungry for more and James is his teacher.
★ god bless america
╰┈➤ WIP | Jegulus, wolfstar. Southern AU. childhood friends to lovers to exes to lovers AU. Set in the south in 2005 because I’m nostalgic.
★ all of my cages were mental
╰┈➤ WIP | Jegulus. Massive TW for eds, and suicidal ideation. Recovery.
COMPLETED
★ anti-hero
╰┈➤ 237k words | jegulus (side wolfstar). Canon divergence. Regulus lives.
★ pathological people pleaser:
╰┈➤ 114k words | BPD James, James/Jegulus centric but multi-character and ship focused.
★ antithesis
╰┈➤ 68k words | jegulus (band au!!)
★ Worst Case Kid
╰┈➤ 42k words | Jegulus, age gap. The tolerate it AU.
★Antipathy
╰┈➤ 36k words | cheating fic. Relationship study of toxic relationships and infidelity.
★ don’t call me kid (don’t call me baby)
╰┈➤ 18k words | Jegulus... infidelity, the folklore love triangle AU.
★ 27 club
╰┈➤ 27k words | Jegulus, MCD: loosely inspired by Nirvana, 1990s band AU
★ Noble
╰┈➤ 9k words | Lilycissa, Jegulus. Canon compliant but if lilycissa and jegulus were canon.
ONESHOTS
★slow endings
╰┈➤ 6k words | Jegulus. Canon compliant, Harry's POV. Harry finds out about jegulus through letters after the second war.
★castles crumbling
╰┈➤ 11k words | Jegulus. Exploring their relationship in Hogwarts, James saves Regulus from the cave.
★bad idea right?
╰┈➤ 6.5k words | Jegulus. James and Regulus are broken up but they're dumb and have sex.
★I’ll stare directly at the sun
╰┈➤ 3k words | Jegulus. A small return to the anti-hero universe.
★you don't love me in a way I understand
╰┈➤ 3k words | Jegulus, inspired by Wishbone by Richard Siken
SOCIALS
find me elsewhere on…
★ AO3
★ TikTok
★ Pinterest
★ Spotify
FAQ
What's your update schedule?
╰┈➤ I update my main project every Friday, everything else happens as god intends it. Do NOT ask me for any updates I will update whenever I want.
Can I dm you/come chat?
╰┈➤ OF COURSE. My dms are always open, pls feel free to come talk.
How do you write so much?
╰┈➤ Short answer, mental illness. Long answer, a lot of commitment, practice and obsession. If you're interested in my writing process here's the writing-related asks #mere's writing asks and answers and you can feel free to shoot me specific questions.
Can I send you fic requests?
╰┈➤ Yes you may, but I cannot promise I'll manage to write them! HOWEVER, I'd love to try or work specific things into fics if you want them.
PLAYLISTS
★ anti-hero
★ ppp
★ god bless america
★ Worst Case Kid
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Masterlist
Hello, yes, welcome to this list of things I have written. Most of it is smutty 18+ nonsense (and all of it is about Henry Cavill-shaped men), so if that's not you: turn around and walk away! This is not for you!
Don't copy, translate or otherwise post my work anywhere without my permission! I also explicitly forbid anyone to use my work to feed AI, that's gross and disrespectful, so please don't do the thing.
🍀- Drabble || 🌶 - Smut || 🍭- fluff || 🍷 - angst
Summary: The shenanigans of eight college guys who share a house...
(Mike, Charles, Napoleon, Sherlock, August, Sy, Marshall and Geralt - University Edition.)
Series Masterlist
🌶||🍭||🍷
Finished
Summary: Your weekend plans with August threaten to fall apart when it turns out he's been under a lot of stress. (Dom!August x fem!reader. )
Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6
🌶
Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?" (Contractor!Sy x OFC (Lara))
🍂 Series masterlist 🍂
🌶 || 🍭 || 🍷
A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock
Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...
🟣 Series masterlist 🟣
🌶 || 🍭 || 🍷
Summary: One of the best decisions August Walker ever made was sharing his princess with his college roommate Walter Marshall... (Dom!August Walker x reader // Dom!Walter Marshall x reader)
Part 1🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5
🌶
Series summary: The cute barista from your regular coffeeshop takes a while to gather the courage to ask you out, but when he finally does... (Barista!Mike x reader)
Series Masterlist (finished)
🍭 || 🌶
Series summary: A story about two people falling in love in a time when that wasn't necessarily what they were supposed to do. (Melot x ofc (Tamsyn))
Series Masterlist (finished)
🍭|| 🍷 || 🌶
Masterlist for all @henrycavillbingo entries!
A little short (August Walker x reader) - 🌶
Summary: You try to prove August Walker isn't the boss of you. Turns out he is, and you're screwed.
Puppy love (dad!August vs. Teen Daughter) - 🍭
Summary: August is not happy when his daughter first starts dating 'that Syverson boy'.
Puppy love II (dad!Syverson & son!Mike) - 🍭
Summary: Sy really can't be all that bothered that Mike is dating August Walker's daughter...
In all fairness... (Walter Marshall x reader) - 🌶
Summary: It's date night, and you found the perfect outfit... In hindsight it may have been a little too perfect.
Pumpkin Spice (barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader) - 🌶
Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.
Taking cues (Mike x reader) - 🌶
Summary: Your favorite bartender offers to teach you to play pool.
Tongue-tied (Mike x reader) - 🌶
Summary: Mike has always wanted to try to tie you up...
You deserve it (Mike x reader) - 🍭
Summary: You’re feeling like shit, and Mike helps you feel less like shit. That’s it. That’s the plot.
Snowed in (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: You were going to spend the weekend at your dad's cabin in the woods with your boyfriend, but he bails on you and leaves you - quite literally - out in the cold. Good thing your best friend's brother shows up...
Making a mess of Mikey (Mike x reader x Black!ofc) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: Mike is a little down in the dumps after a breakup, and you and your girlfriend try something to cheer him up that turns into a fun experiment.
Happy birthday (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: Mike makes you breakfast on your birfthday...
Next door (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: This new guy next door is really bugging you... Until - yet another - noise complaint one night gets a happy ending.
Jersey (hockeyplayer!Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: Mike thought it would be a good idea to teach you how to skate. It wasn't — so he has to come up with a different plan.
🍀 Get wet (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: Mike is a little stumped that he made his girl squirt...
🍀 Not what you think (Mike x German!reader) - 🍭 || 🍷
Summary: When Mike comes home, you're looking to pick a fight. Until it turns out he hasn't been sneaking around. Well... Not like that, anyway.
🍀 Common fucking indecency (Mike x reader) - 🍭
Summary: Mike comes home from his exchange earlier than you expected, and you're real happy to see him.
Little brother AU
Worth it (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍭
Summary: Walter is babysitting his little brother Mikey while their mom is away for the weekend. He’s also on a date…
Astraphobia (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍭
Summary: Walter doesn't have quite the night he had planned on when a thunderstorm scares both his girlfriend and his little brother...
Sunday dinner (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍷
Summary: Walter visits Mike in his dorm after the death of their mother.
Baby, it's cold outside (Napoleon Solo x OFC) - 🌶
Summary: A stewardess recognises a certain Mr. Jack Deveny from her flight earlier in the day. He just so happens to be staying at her layover-hotel.
Body Double (Syverson) - 🍭
Summary: You need to clean your house, and you get a good friend to help you...
What's the occasion? (Syverson x reader) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: You come home from a terrible day at work, thinking you have about a thousand things still on your to do list, only to find your husband has taken care of all of that, and has also made you the first thing on his to do list.
The next chapter (Syverson) - 🍷
Summary: You come home to an interesting situation...
Don't knock it till you try it (Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall) - 🌶
Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...
Axes and O's (Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall) - 🌶
Summary: Sy invited you and Walter to his family's cabin, where you get to spend a few days alone with them before the holidays.
Fantasy AU
To become one (wood elf!Prince!Melot x dryad!OFC) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: The elven Prince Melot and his dryad lover share a lovely afternoon together in the forest.
What's in a name (wood elf!Prince!Mike x tiefling!OFC) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: At the wedding of his brother Melot, Mike is lured away by his little demon. A few months later, there is even more cause for celebration.
One of two kinds (werewolf!Geralt x halfling!Druid!OFC) - 🌶||🍭
Summary: When you find a wounded, new werewolf in the forest, you can't just leave him lying there. Perhaps the enormous man will turn out to be exactly what you needed...
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[SMUT] TWICE Nayeon x Male Reader - “Is There Someone Else?”
Surprise, surprise! This is my first full smut work that I will only be posting here in my Tumblr account knowing how strict Wattpad is currently with mature contents like this. I hope yall like this especially those readers of mine who are familiar enough reading smutty fanfic works. However, I wouldn’t consider this being my first time to attempt writing such completely out of my usual only fluffy/angsty one-shots formula and challenge myself on creating something different as I already did it with my other fic titled “Catching Feelings” ft. TWICE Jihyo from the Set 5 line-up of my TWICE: Book Of One-Shots X Reader book (look it up on my masterlist) although that is mainly fluff and the smut is only very short but please understood me if yall might find this boring since I’m still a beginner. Enjoy reading and have a nice day everyone!
(A/N: This is inspired from the song "Is There Someone Else?" by one of my all time favorite artists The Weeknd from his awesome album ‘Dawn FM’.)
WARNING: Contains mature R+18 content.
The cold, silent night just reached the 9:00 PM mark. You were sitting in the couch, legs crossed and sporting a strict demeanor staring at the door, waiting for your girlfriend who just knocked and made her way inside by opening it.
"I'm home." She said as she saw your figure already prepared to welcome her as she entered the house. Nayeon didn't even bother to notice at your strange aura at first, not until when she removed her shoes and shoulder bag off her body.
"Where did you go?" You asked her in a monotonous tone.
"I went out with friends, why?" She asked you while raising her brow.
"Plural. You sure there's more than you and whoever guy it may be that you're with earlier?" Now your arms crossed and glared at her weakly, shifting your presence to an authorative image.
"Jihyo and Jeongyeon were also with me and Junghee when we went strolling at the mall." She clarified, but that didn't satisfied you enough. You have another plan in mind to play with your rules, to ensure her glory of you believing her words.
"Oh okay then. But I assume that despite they are around, he's still stuck on your side through most of the time; isn't it?"
"YN, where are we heading with this? A-are you suspecting me?" She questioned confusingly, her brows are now knitted to one another.
"You won't answer my question?" You didn't responded to her own concern, throwing back the same treatment to her. Standing up from the couch that shortly became uncomfortable for the first time as you're facing her with all these worrying what ifs in your head, you slowly trailed across her.
"YN?"
Towering at her frame, inches close against each other; you pursed your head in her collar and sniffed. "I won't mind not receiving any answers from you, I already can tell it anyway based from his smell lingering your clothes.", you said; mentioning that familiar expensive perfume only suitable for men like you.
She stepped back, separating herself away from you with judgmental look in her face. "What the hell? So you really are thinking that I'm secretly meeting up with him without your knowing?"
"How can you blame me so, Nayeon?" You didn't circled the topic any longer, revealing your side and what urged you to confront her like this tonight. "It's been days since you keep on leaving the house with all your short and lacking excuses, and you just take my permissions I give to you as your advantage, without having any idea that I'm holding myself to beg you not to go Nayeon."
"Don't you see? We almost had a little amount of time to spend alone together, and I just want you to stay with me and enjoy having you on my side everyday but... what you're doing just starts to fill up these... doubts and uneasiness in me that you- you're hiding something from me that I don't wanna know." Nayeon frowned as she finally realized and understood why you suddenly became observative and moody with her. It was all her fault, she owned. She knows that she didn't do it with all intention or want to find ways not to have you moving around from her because of the thought that she maybe-
Oh no. She halted from processing your words in her mind, but it didn't prevented her for hearing additional question that you have in store for her.
"Nayeon, is there someone else? Was there a chance that this person is trying to take you away from me?" You asked her straightfully. Staring deep into her eyes that widened as she heard that huge question setting your relationship with her on line with it, she wandered at your pityful state. Eyes are droopy, lips curved in reverse, sadness visible in your face.
"N-no, no! YN! Never. Don't think of that, okay? I love you and only you! Ask Jeongyeon and Jihyo, they’ll tell you that I’m right!" She frantically said as she cupped your cheeks with both of her big, slender hands.
You remained unmovable with the entire view of Nayeon's beauty that you don't want to lose, desperately assuring you that she don't want the same either.
From the tone of her words, she is nearly getting you believe from it. But, you still don't want to disregard what you prepared for her to do tonight. Take it as something you and her definitely need. It has been a week that both you and her won't share any intimate moments together, and this is opportunity laid in front of you tonight to do so.
You gently removed her hands from pressing your cheeks, much to Nayeon's shock especially when she had contact from your head movement doing a disapproving shake.
Stepping away from her this time, Nayeon nervously hops in her feet as her body began to shiver in fear. "W-what? YN! No, please! What do I need to do for you to believe me?"
That question perfectly activated the go signal to do your plan. Slowly glancing at Nayeon who seems to be almost emotional in front of you, you tried to compose your bland expression to her.
You want her to submit for you tonight, she is playing your game... and you're the one in charge of her.
You sat back from your couch. "Take off your clothes."
Nayeon looked at you puzzledly. "W-what?"
"Don't make me repeat again, I said, take off your clothes. Turn around as you do it."
Nayeon gulped at your unexpected request. If she's eager to earn your forgiveness and this is the solution you require, she won't protest at all to follow; you're her boyfriend anyways and to be honest, she's been wanting this to happen with you since from the start when you and her became official.
She turned around, her back figure is now facing you. Starting off with her belt, she began to unlock and dishevel it from her waist; hanging it at the back of the chair.
Her hands went to the zipper behind her rose designed red and white colored blouse and unzipped it, allowing the clothing to adjust for her to pull it upwards slowly from her top area. Her white laced bra aligning at the width of her gorgeous back is now open for you to witness and began enjoying it.
Half-naked, Nayeon proceeds with her skirt that matches with the apperance of her blouse; detaching the button and slip it down from her feet. She bended down, her brown hair fell and nearly reached the floor but you didn't cared that much when there's a more distracting part of hers that you have to focus on rather.
Her plump round ass hidden by her matching white panties effectively got you aroused. It would lose eventually compared to the other sight made by Nayeon when she turned around and present you her front side. You can definitely see her B-cup sized breasts encapsulated by her white bra which caused your dick to began harden on your shorts.
Nayeon saw the formation of tent done by your erected shaft, the lust in her barging to take control. She unawaringly grinds her thighs together as you stood up in front of her.
You wrapped your arm around her small waist, pushing her closer to you. Your hidden friend bumped at Nayeon's abdomen which made the woman whimper. "God, you're so heavenly attractive Nayeon."
You kissed Nayeon on the lips, tongue engaged on dancing to the rhythm with each other's movements. Breaking off your make-out session with her, you carried her up by lifting her ass; her legs locked around your waist.
Entering to your bedroom that is now willingly shared with your girlfriend, you entered and laid Nayeon on the bed; dropping her weight without care; as if it would hurt her crashing down to your bed's soft mattress.
Positioning on top of her, you kissed her again on the lips; caressing the locks of her hair from the side while she does the same from the back of your head.
"Tonight, I just want you to show me that I'm all yours."
Nayeon only nodded, she didn't want to speak for now. All she wants is to anticipate the incoming pleasure to be sent by you and her from each other's bodies.
You leaned away from her face before removing your shirt and throwing it aside. Lowering down and kneeled beside the bed, you began praising her godly sculptured body by showering kisses through her legs, knees, and those healthy thighs.
Nayeon huffed in the air as the sensation arises when you matched your kisses with gentle touches from your hands roaming in her smooth skin.
Your face meets her shielded treasure. Annoyed at the distraction, your fingers dug onto the bands and pulled her panties away as she helps you by raising both of her legs.
Her juicy, pink pussy that is now obviously desperate of your attention has now freed. Your thumb and the rest of your fingers first massaged the underside and the corners of her ass, thighs and her pussy to take your time teasing her.
"P-please eat me, baby. Don't tease me any longer, it needs you."
You obliged at her pleads. Your active hands paused for a while to hold her thighs open for you to comfortably move as you began licking her slit with your tongue, earning a sexy alluring moans and heavy breathing from your lover.
It continues as you savor the taste of her delicious pussy, biting and sucking off her flesh and nub before you entered your two fingers inside her walls as you stimulate her clit.
"Mmmhhh Y-YN yes, right there. Oohhh yeah keep eating me please."
Her hands leads to your hair as she gripped it to push your face closer on her needy and horny pussy, already dripping wet from the tongue and finger fucking you're giving to her.
You began increasing the speed of your fingers inserting in and out of her tight hole along with your flicking and wiggling of your tongue to her bloated clit.
"Ooohhh yesss Y-YN oh my god I'm cumming I'm cumming!!!"
Nayeon shouts as slimy and sticky juices of her sprayed all over your face in response to the orgasm you elicited on her. Her squirt took a little longer before it stopped, you tasted her own sweet fluid first before heading on next to other spots that deserves appreciation too.
You left a trail of kisses to her nicely built torso, over and under her belly button. She watches your head arises until it finally stops right in front of her cleavage.
In the assistance of your slick hands, you unclipped the front of her bra between the cups before taking it off, letting those small but handful and round breasts slightly jiggle in your eyes.
Licking your lips, you groped those mounds with every random directions, massaging those firm pillows as they gave a marshmallow feeling in your hands.
"Them also, YN. You can suck those tits, baby."
With regards to her command, you began sucking on her nipples and circle your tongue around those brown areolas.
Giving those bosoms fair treatment, you switched side by side; one hand playing while the other being sucked carefully by you.
Nayeon moaned at how actually good it feels of your mouth tasting her delicious orbs. She begged more and more for you to keep doing it until you decided to finish worshipping her body by kissing her chest, shoulder, neck, cheeks until it brought you back again to her candy lips.
"You can't be the only one being pleasured, baby. Help me too with this. Hang your head at the edge of the bed for me."
She listened, pushing her body more to let her upsided head flailing out of the bed's surface. You get out from her and stood in front of her as you removed your short, making her gasp and sprung her eyes out at your engorged length of your big cock now escaped from your clothed prison.
Directing your shaft at her lips first to ready herself, you slowly pushed forward and successfully entered her mouth as you slowly fucked her upside down face with your pair of full balls dangling above her nose.
You moaned and whimpered at how awesome her mouth and that soft tongue rotating around your girth to add the satisfying sensation which encouraged you to got faster on your fucking.
Gurgles and slurps from Nayeon sucking your cock echoed in the bedroom. You grasped her bouncing breasts for attention as you continued drilling her mouth until you reach your end.
"Nayeon, I'm cumming! Take it all!!!"
Three last strokes is all it takes for you to gave up and release your streaks of pearly white cum to flood Nayeon's available mouth. You pumped your cock a little bit more to ride your orgasm before you slipped off, allowing Nayeon to easily swallow your cream.
Going back to business, you kneeled in front of Nayeon's body still laid on her back to the bed. Giving each other trusting nods, you inserted your dick inside her pussy. It made Nayeon's lower half shiver as she willingly takes all of your length until you're balls deep inside of her.
Slow and careful rhythm is what you gave Nayeon to let her indulge the feeling. You leaned forwards and kissed Nayeon passionately while you remained grinding on her.
Soon your pace became faster, her legs now encircled around your body not wanting to let you go. Her moans and groans gets louder to join you too as both were now in a midst of a wonderful sensation.
"Oh God, you're so tight Nayeon! You're gripping my cock so bad."
"Mmm ughhh yes yes YN pound me faster, harder! You're filling me up inside."
"I'm about to cum, Nayeon!"
"D-do it outside, babe. I'm not safe yet."
Her support and encouragement has what led you to chase the impending finish of your composure as you finally fired the shots of your second load straightly aimed on Nayeon's valley between her breasts, her torso and above her pulsing pussy.
The adrenaline cursing in your veins, pressure and efforts you poured in to assure that you are indeed pleasing your girlfriend's desires has what led you to tire yourself down, sending your body to lay beside Nayeon who is now resting after giving her a great missionary fucking.
"I'm still up for one last round. Care to join me, love?"
"Yeah me too. With you and this great sex were having? Always." She turned her head at you and smiled gracefully.
"She's indeed loyal to me. I have to apologize for her later." You took a mental note for yourself. Those choice of words that she replied at you fulfilled the reassurance of your trust and safety of your current relationship with her.
Your happiness and gratitude outranked all emotions that the entire 2 years and counting of having Nayeon as your girlfriend won't get interrupted and ended up getting wasted because this woman beside you will remain sharing the same undeniable and unmatched love with you.
You kissed Nayeon again as a gesture on behalf of everything that fills in your heart solely because of her before turning her body sideways, her back is now facing you again as you slapped one of her asscheeks emitting a gasp and hisses from your pretty lady.
Groping her petite breasts while she reaches for your cock to harden again, it didn't last long for your wood to reaawakened before aligning it on the crack of her ass and inches by inches you managed to bury your dick inside Nayeon's rear.
You instinctively felt her move a little to adjust herself at your size so you remained frozen for seconds, not wanting to do it if it'll only result hurting Nayeon. Your main purpose was to have a good time and catch up with all those times you and her haven't got to enjoy being together as couple.
She gave you a few pats on your wrist to signal you that she's now okay, so you hold one of her legs and hooked it up while your other one went beneath on her curves and caressed her breast as you started fucking her in a spooning position.
Claps, moans, grunt and squeaks of the bed were the only noises audible inside the bedroom as you and Nayeon would perform one last make-love and vanilla sex in the middle of the young night.
Her ass was even tighter than her pussy, enveloping and pumps your entire length where at this point you don't know if you can last longer of pounding her from behind.
She reaches for your head and pulled it closer against her, kissing you head while you sync it with your fingers tugging her nipples, squeezing her soft flesh and increased pace of your cock jamming her occupied hole.
Few more strokes is what all it takes for you to meet the brim of your end as you released another batch of your load for the third time inside her reddened peach and fill it without dispute.
You slowly removed your beaten and throbbing cock stained with both of your fluids out of her used, gaped asshole that is now overflowing with a few amount of your cum, dripping down to her ass and thighs.
Nayeon is now cuddling beside you, still both naked in the bed, resting from the effects of engaging such great sex from both lovers. She looks up on you which you noticed from your peripheral vision.
"I really do love you, YN. I hope what we just had tonight speaks it all. D-do you believe me now?"
You looked back at her and flashed a timid smile. "I am. And I'm sorry that it crossed my mind to bring you into this. I-I just missed being close with you, Nayeon. I really thought there's a man out there that is now close to your heart as much as I do.
I got scared, Nayeon. I didn't want to lose my spot. I wanted to keep you close and I don't wanna be hurt and left alone. If ain't gonna be with you then I don't wanna be like that anymore."
Thankfully, Nayeon smiled at your understandable reason; caressing your chest then your hair. She was touched and softened at your frown knowing how sincere you were at your explaining.
"I'm sorry too if I made you feel like that, YN. I didn't meant to do it, I swear. Maybe I got too caught up on hanging out with my friends because I haven't seen them for months. For Junghee, I have no interest in him okay? In fact, he's already seeing another woman."
You looked at her in surprise. "Oh, wait. Really?"
She nodded innocently. "Yup. His smell that you noticed on me a while ago also, well we discussed it in dislike with Jeongie and Ji too that his perfume is very strong our noses couldn’t handle inhaling it too much whenever we get near to him. It kinda annoys me now that when he slipped on the mall and I catched him from his back, his smell passed onto me.”
"Damn it, now I even feel bad that I didn't even let you speak your side." You said with regret as you facepalmed.
Nayeon laughed and slapped your chest not so harshly. "I don't mind about it. Atleast you gave me a great first time sex with you tonight. That's what matters to me now."
"Can't wait for more of this next time." She added as a hot whisper to your ear. You smirked, remembering what she said and definitely you would love to share that level of intimacy with her all over again.
"Oh you don't know how much I look forward to it."
She squeezed herself more into your body, her breast is now compressed to your arm. "I love you, YN. Every single time. I would never look for other, why would I if I have the best man with me that I can cherish for the rest of my life. So please, I'm sorry and don't be afraid anymore babe. I'm staying with you until the end."
You kissed her in the forehead and hold her hand. "I know, and so am I. I forgive you, Nay. I love you too so much that I would literally want to be with you forever."
Both of you kissed again on the lips before none dared to speak after. You observed that Nayeon already slept within your arms.
Tracing the features of this exceptional beauty that chose you out of all the guys around in this world, you can help anymore but to release a few streams of your tears filled with joy based from what Nayeon entirely told you earlier.
There's really no someone else other than you. To think that you would gladly spend the rest of your life with Nayeon, her heart and soul in safe hands; you began to form a new plan in your mind that will place yourselves one step closer to the next chapter of your love story with Nayeon: prepare for your engagement ring and proposal that you will give to her soon.
#twicenayeon#twicenayeonmalereader#twicenayeonmreader#twicenayeonsmut#twicesmut#twicenayeononeshot#twicenayeonau#twicenayeonfanfic#twicefanfic#twiceau#kpopsmut#kpoponeshots#kpopau#nayeon#nayeonxmreadersmut#imnayeon
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I goofed this post alfksakfk (iykyk) so! Back to it. This is very fun to think of! also ignore my romeo + juliet indulgences
So, Asa's always been a fairly indulgent and lenient father. He hadn't minded your going off on dates, as long as you were home at a reasonable hour. Yes, you're an adult, but getting your own place was still out of the question unless you were staying at the dorms at college. He never had to worry about you, either. The boys were always the same; college boys, sons of the rich acquaintances in your family's circle, some newcomers at the country clubs. Always the same types.
He never thought his princess would even think of getting involved with gangsters and bootleggers. Asa kept that part of his life very separate from his family. Even if you knew, your mother hadn't a clue. She wasn't the one who'd go along with Asa to the Maribel Hotel for years. Initially you loved it because it meant going to a fun, exciting place with your father, and getting fawned over by the staff. Then it meant getting to see the Marigold Room.
"Listen," your father began gruffly. "I know what you girls get up to nowadays, but - if you're going to be dancing, best do it here. Stay with your friends and no funny business, understand?"
Always too permissive, not that you had a habit of raucous drinking and partying. Getting access to the Marigold Room made you something of a hot commodity at school now, and it led to something else: a cold, club-shaped metal pin being dropped in your palm.
That's how you met him. This too-skinny, too-smiley, too-chatty violinist who played at the Lackadaisy club. You nearly made him forget about the next performance.
You sought him out the next few visits, but it was just easier to meet outside the club. That was like going to the next step with Rocky. He wasn't just some guy you flirted with for a night, you actually wanted to take him on dates. You knew lots of places to take him, and there was just something so .. so cute about how earnest and endearing and affectionate he was. There was no stuck-up airs or obsession with this family or that or thinly veiled condescension. He wasn't dating you because that's what was expected. And while you had plenty of swanky cafes to take him, he had all sorts of places you'd never seen on the "other" side of town.
(There's so many stars once you drive a few miles outside of the city. You two fell asleep naming them and just talking... then woke up hours later in full panic. You snuck back into the dorms at the crack of dawn, covered in mosquito bites and beyond giddy.)
Uptown girl with downtrodden city boy cliche? Yes, absolutely. Neither of you cared.
News that Atlas May was shot frightened you. You'd heard it before reading it in the papers - well, overheard your father's shock as he talked to someone on the phone. Your first thought was some kind of police raid on the speakeasy, and if Rocky was hurt. Asa didn't want you going to the clubs after that, even the Marigold room. He seemed spooked. That was fine - you were seeing Rocky more in the daytime hours, anyway.
Right, your father still didn't know about him ... at least he was too distracted with work to notice your happy mood and the pep in your step lately. Your mother certainly did, and she was harder to avoid. She was so sure it was some college boy. "What's his name, sweetie, we can invite his family for dinner. Oh! Maybe have a lovely afternoon boating. Or brunch at the club, with the Robinsons? What do you think?" Honestly, you'd rather throw yourself from a window.
You'd heard about the troubles Rocky was having at the Lackadaisy, and a few times you asked why he just doesn't perform at the Marigold Room. Okay, you were half just saying that because you wanted to see him more, risky as it'd be. The other half is you were a little worried about some of the things he was getting up to. You noticed the scratches and dents in his car, and his own bruises and messy clothes.
(He'd never wear the clothes you bought him during these little bootlegging adventures, though. He didn't want to mess up the things you so lovingly picked out. They were also the only nice ones he had.)
On that topic, it's really fun to dress Rocky up. You aren't trying to be patronizing or act like he's a charity case, but - he just looks so nice cleaned up, and look, you can't take him to a nice cafe when he both looks and smells like he rolled in dirt (and ... syrup?). So, sure, you bought a shirt here and tie there and maybe a jacket and well obviously he needs pants to match that and it really means nothing that they just happen to fit so well, you definitely weren't measuring him when he was asleep or anything. Rocky isn't bothered by it at all, he loves the gifts and attention. And it kind of does something to him when you smooth out the creases and make sure the tie is straight and hook your arm around his and walk down the street, totally happy and proud of him, not embarrassed in the slightest.
You know he wouldn't fight it if you kept him some kind of dirty secret forever. It'd hurt him so much, of course, but Rocky would let you do it. You knew he'd just smile and pretend it was fine, like he does when you mention your parents keep trying to set you up with this hotshot lawyer's son. You see the flickers of disappointment and hurt when you joke about how your parents would kill you if they knew where you were right now, then he tries to cover it up.
Rocky deserves better, you know. And this really isn't a fun little fling anymore, is it? It's getting serious. He has so much love he's nearly bursting from it and you really, really don't want that to be ruined.
God, what are you going to tell your parents? "It's fine, he's only been a bootlegger for almost a year, before that he was a perfectly honest dirt-poor fiddler! We're disgustingly in love already and he's better than all those snob-nosed spineless trustfund bozos you keep setting me up with!" Yeah that'll go over Thanksgiving dinner just great.
As if fate's sense of humor couldn't get any better, it's Mordecai who finds out first. That shadowy, really unsettling (and actually kind of dorky ...?) gunman your father keeps around. Mordecai is good at remembering faces. When Asa introduced you two, he knew he remembered your's. He saw you once or twice at the Lackadaisy, though he hadn't known who you were at the time. You stood out because you were actually chatty with that ridiculous violinist, where most were exasperated with him.
Mordecai recalls that, and Asa idly complaining about his daughter always ditching the dates her mother set up for her, when he spots you and Rocky out and about. Broad daylight, not trying to hide, but certainly not where the more affluent friends and family of Asa's would go. You were even dressed down and weren't wearing any jewelry.
Yeah, he's not getting in the middle of this. Even as things heat up between the Marigold Gang and Lackadaisy.
Note, Rocky is very aware of who your family is. You never hid it back when you met him, and as far as he's concerned, you're the picture of innocence and can't be blamed for anything your father or the gang do. He's trying to be cute when he calls you 'princess' or 'my lady' and it is cute, but... you also feel kind of guilty. Reciting plays and poetry is fun and games until he brings up Romeo and Juliet again. It used to be romantic, but now it just claws at something in you. "Rocky, come on, you remember how that ends, right?"
(Oh, and there's a matter of keeping this all hush-hush from the Lackadaisy crew, who already know Rocky has a sweetheart because he can't shut up about you, but they don't know who you are exactly. It's best Mitzi or Viktor doesn't catch sight of you, because they'll spot the family resemblance right away..)
And then there's your father finding out. It had to happen eventually, especially with Lackadaisy getting in on the Marigold's suppliers. He makes it clear to Mordecai that if some accident were to happen to "that boy", then you're young, and you'd get over it. This is just some late teenage rebellion, he tells himself. A fling you'll forget all about once the excitement wears off and your school work picks up. Mordecai isn't so sure about that.
He actually tried to warn you about it, but the thing is ... Mordecai is Mordecai. He's staring intently and of course he cornered you as you were leaving the hotel at night and he's deadpan as he says, "I'd begin reconsidering your choice of paramours; there isn't any way that this will end well for him."
"Mordecai Heller, are you threatening me?"
"What? No?" He's startled by the tone of your voice. Did you just pull a knife on him? From your purse? "Put that down - I'm giving you practical advice."
"Oh. .... Maybe next time, don't do it in a creepy alley?"
It's like ice water drops on you when your father brings it up. He just lets out a heavy sigh, the most perfect cliche noise that says he's not mad, just disappointed. Right away you know he thinks this little dalliance has only been around for a few months, if that. "Really, pumpkin? What about that lawyer's son we told you about, he's not half bad looking. Or that rowing team captain, you remember him? He really took a shine to you. Look, I know a guy with a cousin whose son is--"
You get the whole lecture: You're too good of a girl to run around with unwashed gangsters and besides, what about your studies? Think about what your mother would say. Do you really want her finding out? Or the country club, or god forbid, her little society ladies? He'd be sleeping on the couch and you'd be in a nunnery. Some scrawny hoodlum isn't worth all that trouble, is he?
Asa doesn't raise his voice and actually get angry until you defend Rocky, until you actually say his name. He actually slams his fist on the desk, making the candy jars and his name plaque rattle. The conversation is done, so you leave. And of course you go straight to Rocky and don't come home on Sunday for the usual family brunch, or the next one. Your father makes excuses for you. It's little consolation, because you know exactly what the gangsters he employs are capable of. And you don't think for a minute they'll spare Rocky. Why couldn't he have just taken the job at the Marigold Room ...
Onto pleasanter things. One of the greatest nights in your life (so far) was the massive city charity gala that the Maribel Hotel hosted every year. It stopped being fun for you years ago, but this time you had a date. You told Rocky to leave it all to you. Yes, your dad was attending, but he was always off schmoozing with his associates. Besides - this year's theme was a masquerade, no gangsters would be there, it's crowded, and you had Rocky dressed to the nines. No one would notice! It'd be great. This was a little secret you'd been hiding for a month, you just knew he'd love all the music and the ridiculous fancy foods and you just wanted to share something magical with someone you loved. Because you were very, very sure you loved him.
And Rocky looked so handsome you just couldn't keep away from him, and you two danced and laughed at the prissy food and absurd people like you'd imagined. Anyway, it was cut short when you were nearly spotted by Mordecai - who looked wonderfully out of place without a mask and dressed like a funeral director, but you'd laugh about it later. You grabbed Rocky's hand and just ran, and bolting up the backrooms and stairwells of the hotel you knew so well.
Maybe you should have been deflated. A silly, childish desire for a fairytale evening came crashing down thanks to reality, even if you knew Mordecai wouldn't shoot Rocky dead. But it was hard to feel too disappointed when you both were still giddy and laughing, gleefully stealing 'hidden' champagne from the general manager's office and climbing your way up the rickety fire escape - even with your heels and his suit you spent way too much money on - and spending the rest of the evening making out and giggling and watching the city from high above.
#im a dumbdumb lol this is why you use notepad or google docs or smh not the tumblr app#anyway im sure anon didnt expect all THIIS but idgaf#this is so self indulgent and i am gigglinggggg i am happy#lackadaisy x reader#rocky rickaby x reader
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Ok, let's talk about Lost In Space.
In the early 2000's there wasn't as much 40k fanfiction as today, you had Turn Signals on a Land Raider, and... I really can't remember. But I do remember Lost In Space!
This is probably one of my favorite 40k comics, even if it only has around 50 strips and never was completed. Sadly the website was nuked on january 2006, and nowadays, it's a bit hard to find all its published content. But hey, guess what? I'm a data hoarder, and found almost all the comic on my external hard drive, and the four strips I didn't have, I found them on a russian website, in russian, but @varanguard did me the favour of translating them back to english.
So, what now? I think I'm going to put it here with tags, so people can find it; lost media is something we should take more seriously, books, videogames, series, music, etc... all human creation should have a place.
What happened to the website? I asked a friend if he remembers and he told me back then James was throwing a fit about copyright, and closed many fan content websites, so yeah, it could be the answer.
And what about the author? Ok, this is a complex subject. Technically, the last we know about the author is a post on DeviantArt where they talks about getting a copy of all the strips and wanting to publish them there, they started on september 2006, and the last one is from october 2006, there are only 11 strips, I think I have near 80 between LiS, Meanwhile and Grail Quest.
Soooo... I still wanted to know if it was ok to put the comic here, and you see, I am a very good internet sleuth, very good, so good that from a complete stranger putting funny drawings on the internets 20 years ago, now I may know their complete name, where they live, where they work, I got 4 different emails and their work telephone number*. And at this point I realized I had jumped head first without parachute into creepy territory (I blame my autism, when you focus onto something it's hard to know when to stop).
And now, contacting the author with the information I got that they didn't put out there to be contacted, to talk about something they haven't talked about for almost 20 years, feels disturbing, like crossing 30km of red lines and boundaries, and way worse than putting the comic out there without their permission.
I think I'm going to follow the spirit of their last post and share the comic, but if somebody has any idea, comment or observation, please, let me know.
*be vigilant about your internet privacy and what you put out there!! I'm just a basic nerd and was able to get all that information with just google! All the people telling you to be careful are not paranoid, they know how easy is to find information about somebody!
#warhammer#warhammer 40k#warhammer 40000#lost in space 40k#lost media#space marines#sisters of battle#imperial guard
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give me back my girlhood (it was mine first)
✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen
✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tim thinks Lucy has fully healed from Caleb. He is quickly proven wrong when they start dating.
✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Tim Bradford would burn the entire world just to see Lucy Chen smile, trauma, ptsd, takes place around season 5, canon divergence, hints to autistic!Lucy (meltdowns, going nonverbal, stimming, etc), Lucy had seizures after Caleb, Tamara is Chenfords kid, can you tell I have a soft spot for Tamara, Title is from Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve by Taylor Swift, tagging @natashasera
don’t forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.
Tim thought that the transition from just friends to in a relationship would be easy for him and Lucy, but he was quickly proven wrong. He also thought that Lucy had healed from what Caleb and Rosalind had done to her, but once again, he was proven wrong. She may have healed enough to continue day to day life in her normal manner, but when it came to their relationship, almost everything triggered her, and it broke Tim’s heart.
The first time Tim had noticed that Lucy was being triggered was when they went on their first date. Lucy had ordered a drink, an old fashioned to be exact. She had taken a sip of it when it arrived at their table, and Tim saw how a line appeared between her two eyebrows.
“Everything okay, Luce?” He asked quietly, prepared to flag down the waitress and have her remake the drink if it wasn’t up to Lucy’s standards. Lucy nodded slightly, but pushed the cup away. As she did so, Tim saw her hand shaking.
“I-It tastes funny.” She whispered so quietly that Tim barely heard her. Tim moved closer to her in the booth.
“It tastes funny?” He asked, and she nodded, tears beginning to form.
“It doesn’t taste normal.” She said, her breathing picking up speed. Tim grasped her chin, guiding her eyes to his, and his stomach dropped when he saw the fear in them, realizing what was going on. Her drink tasted different to her, and it brought back memories to when she was drugged. Tim’s heart broke as she whimpered, tears beginning to spill over and roll down her cheeks, her breath speeding up.
“Luce, baby,” He whispered. “You’re safe. I know that what you’re feeling feels really real right now, but it’s not. You’re here with me, Tim, and you’re safe.” He said, still holding her face. “Can you nod if you can hear my voice, Goosey?” He said, and Lucy immediately nodded. “Good girl,” he praised, and smiled slightly when he saw her breathing slow slightly.
“Can you tell me something that you can see?” He asked, and her eyes darted around briefly, before settling on Tim.
“Y-You,” She stuttered, and Tim smiled.
“You can see me?” He inquired, and she nodded. “Good girl.”
He continued to quiz her on her surroundings until she was back in the present, and had calmed down. She was still upset, but Tim knew it was more out of embarrassment than anything. She had wrapped both her arms around his left one, and was resting her head on his shoulder, looking down at her lap.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Lucy didn’t respond with words, instead she grunted slightly, and snuggled into his shoulder even more. “Baby,” he whispered, and eased his arm out of her grip, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
Lucy, once again, didn’t respond, and buried her face in his chest. “Okay, okay,” He soothed, helping her get comfortable. “Do you want to eat, or do you want to go home?” He asked and Lucy shakily pointed to her plate, and Tim pulled it over, handing her her fork. Lucy then sat up, and slowly began eating her food. Tim went back to his own food once he was sure she was okay, but he kept his hand on her lower back.
—
Tim had also noticed that Lucy seemed to fear arguments and disagreements with him. It was something he had taken note of when she first came back to work after Caleb. She was quiet, only talking when he spoke to her, and then if they got in as much as the slightest disagreement, she would shut it down and just agree with him, no matter how he knew she felt about the topic. He thought that she was just taking time to readjust to their relationship being strictly Rookie-TO at work, but he realized as soon as they started dating that she had developed a fear of men, and a fear of upsetting them.
Tim had asked her what she wanted for dinner, and she had said she didn’t care, and that he could pick. Normally, Tim would be okay with that, but since asking her out, he had been making all the decisions in the relationship, in things that didn’t involve work. He had insisted that she choose, and she refused, and they went back and forth until Lucy completely shut down and stopped talking, which made Tim angry.
And he knows it shouldn’t have made him angry, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to be able to eat what she wanted around him, and he didn’t want her to feel like he was controlling her or the relationship in anyway. He knew that she needed to feel in control, and he wanted her to be able to feel that.
“Lucy, just tell me what you want to eat, and I will go and get it!” He said, exasperated, and Lucy shook her head aggressively, and turned away from him. “No,” he said, reaching out for her. “C’mon, talk to me, I just wanna help-“ he stopped talking when he saw her flinch away from him. He then watched through the reflection of the tv the fear that had appeared on her face.
She then whimpered, and then shot up, running to her bedroom, sobs falling from her lips as she went. Tim immediately followed her, instantly feeling shitty about the way he had talked to her. He felt even shittier when he walked into her bedroom and saw her hiding behind the chair in the corner of her room by the window, the soft grey blanket that he bought her her first night in the hospital after Caleb giving away her position, the material peaking out from behind the legs.
“Goosey,” Tim whispered, crouching down close to the chair, but also keeping his distance so that she didn’t feel trapped. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that. I didn’t mean to scare you. If you don’t feel like you can choose what to eat right now, that’s okay. I can choose for us.”
He paused, and waited to hear if Lucy would respond at all. After a moment, he heard her voice say something, but he couldn’t make out what she said.
“Can you repeat that, Luce? I didn’t hear you.” He said, and Lucy’s voice could be heard again, this time louder.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry I made you mad.” She continued, and Tim sighed, moving slightly closer.
“Goosey, you didn’t make me mad at all. I just want you to be able to feel in control of your body and your choices, thats why I wanted to know what you wanted to eat. I shouldn’t have pressured you like I did, and I should have listened to your body language.”
“‘m sorry, please don’ hurt me,” she sobbed. “Didn’t mean it, I’ll be good,”
Tim wiped away the tear that ran down his face after he realized that Lucy was having a flashback.
“I want you to listen to me, Lucy.” He said calmly. “You’re here with me, in your bedroom, in your apartment in Los Angeles. Caleb is dead, and you’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.” He soothed, and after a few more moments of silence, he heard a sniffle, followed by a small “okay,” and then some shuffling.
Lucy crawled out from behind the arm chair and looked up at Tim, slightly hiding her face behind her blanket. Tim gently held out his arms, letting her know she can come to him for comfort if thats what she needed. She slowly inched her way over to him, and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her as tight to her body as he knew she liked, and stood up slowly, lifting her in the process.
He let her cry out her emotions as he slowly rocked her back and forth, hoping the motion would help her to regulate her emotions. She eventually calmed down, and she snuggled into his shoulder, sniffling slightly. He rubbed her back as he walked out into the living room, whispering in her ear as he did.
“Do you want me to choose what we eat? Would that make it easier on you?” He asked, and he nodded, taking a mental note of what to do next time she struggles like that. She needed to feel in control, but sometimes she needed him to make decisions for her, and he was okay with that.
—
The thing that triggered Lucy that hurt him the most was the sound of a tattoo gun. Before Caleb, Lucy loved tattoos, and loved getting tattoos. She had often talked to not only him, but to their fellow officers, about tattoo’s that she wanted and was planning on getting. Tim had known that she had been tattoo’d by Caleb, he saw it when he was in the ambulance with her, and they had moved her shirt in order to do an ECG after she had her third consecutive seizure. His heart had clenched seeing the black ink on her rib cage, and in that moment he had hoped that she was asleep when the tattoo had been done.
But of course, God must hate him, so she had been awake. Something he had no clue about until Tamara had asked them both to accompany her to her first ever tattoo appointment, where she was also getting a date, the date that the three of them had stood in front of the judge finalizing Lucy and Tim adopting Tamara.
Lucy said yes immediately, without even thinking. Tim knew why, of course. Tamara had been let down by everyone in her life, and Lucy was determined to never let her down. Tim didn’t think anything of it, and was even thinking of getting his own tattoo, with both Lucy and Tamara’s birthdays.
Everything was fine until Tamara was lying on the table, her arm out for the tattoo artist, prepped and ready for the ink. The tattoo gun began to buzz, and Lucy tensed up beside him.
“Are you okay?” Tim said under his breath to Lucy, resting his hand on her knee, his other hand holding Tamara’s free one.
“Mhm,” She said, eyes locked on the tattoo gun where it was permanently marking up her daughters skin. “Jus’ need to go to the bathroom,” She said, a little louder, and made brief eye contact with Tamara, clearly trying to tell the girl that everything was fine. Tamara nodded, her brows furrowing for a moment, but then relaxing after Lucy left the room.
Tim waited a few minutes, before following her. “I’m just gonna go check on Mom, okay?” He said to Tamara. “I won’t be gone long.” She nodded, and Tim left the room.
He looked towards the lobby, and could see Lucy outside, so he immediately joined her, where he found her near tears, looking up into the sky to preserve her makeup.
“Luce-“ He started to say, but Lucy cut him off.
“I’m fine.” She said, her voice short.
Tim shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He said, and grabbed her hand. “You’re not, and that’s okay.”
Lucy shook her head, and ripped her hand out of Tim’s grip. “No, its not, Tim!” She said, running her hands through her curls. “Because this is just another thing Caleb has taken from me.” She ranted. “I can’t even sit with my daughter while she gets her first tattoo, I-I can’t get any of the tattoo’s that I wanted to get, I can’t even listen to the buzzing noise of the gun because that’s what I woke up to after he took me-“
“Oh, Goosey,” Tim said sadly, immediately wrapping her up in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were awake when he did that to you. Had I known that, we could have explained to Tamara why you couldn’t go, or we could have brought your headphones-“
“I don’t need them!” Lucy yelled, pulling out of Tim’s arms, and crouching down, covering her ears wit her hands, her eyes squeezing shut. Tim sighed, and sat next to her, being mindful to not touch her until she asked or initiated contact.
“Yes, you do, Goosey, and thats okay.” He said. “I’m not going to judge you for it, Tamara certainly isn’t going to judge you for it, and any person with more than half a braincell wouldn’t judge you for it. I suggested it because when you do wear them out of the house, you are able to cope better, and that’s all I wanted. And as for him taking the ability to get tattoo’s from you, he didn’t. If you really want to get another tattoo, I’m sure we can find a trauma informed tattoo artist that is willing to work with you on this.” He explained, as he wrapped an arm around her after she removed her hands from her ears, and rested her head on his shoulder. “But it’s entirely up to you, okay?”
Lucy nodded, and sniffed. Tim kissed her on the head, and helped her stand up. She took a deep breath, and looked towards the tattoo shop door. “We should go back in,” she said, and Tim looked at her.
“Are you sure you want to?” He asked. “You don’t have to, I can go back in and you can wait in the truck if it’s going to be too hard for you.”
Lucy shook her head. “No, I-I think I was just a little unprepared, and that’s why it triggered me. I’m prepared to hear the noise, so I’ll be okay.” She said. “Tamara wanted both of us with her and I’m not going to let her down.” She finished, as she led him back inside, and into the room, where the artist was bandaging up Tamara’s tattoo.
“Can I see it, bubba,” Lucy asked, walking up to Tamara’s side immediately. Tamara holds her arm out, while looking up worriedly at Lucy.
“Are you okay, Mom?” She asked, and Lucy nodded, running a hand through Tamara’s hair.
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay.” She said, assuring the teen. “I don’t want you to worry, okay?”
Tamara blinked, her lower lip wobbling slightly. “I’m always going to worry about you,” she whispered. “You’re my mom, and I know I don’t know everything that you went through but I know enough to know that you got triggered. I didn’t even think about that before asking, I’m sorry,” she said, a tear falling from her eye.
“T,” Tim whispered, moving to her head and pressing a kiss to her head as he sat next to her on the table. “It’s okay. I don’t think any of us really thought about it.” He assured her, and Lucy nodded, sitting on the table as well.
“Yeah. It did trigger me, but I removed myself from the situation, worked through what I was feeling, and then prepared myself to come back. It’s okay, I promise.” She said, cupping Tamara’s cheek, and rubbing her thumb back and forth.
“Okay,” Tamara said, and as soon as Lucy seemed to be sure that Tamara was okay, she turned back and looked at the tattoo. “I love it, baby,” She said.
“Me, too.” Tim said, smiling down at his daughter.
“Now,” Lucy said, smiling up at Tim. “Your dad just needs to get one, and we’ll be all inked up.”
Tim shook his head but laughed along with his girls.
—
Lucy wasn’t fully healed from Caleb, but Tim was going to do everything in his power to make sure that one day, she would be. Caleb had taken a lot from her, but Tim was going to make sure that she was able to reclaim what he had taken, no matter the cost.
#natashasera#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#the rookie fanfiction#chenford fanfiction#tim bradford x lucy chen#tim bradford x lucy chen fanfiction#chenford fluff#chenford angst#tamara colins#eric winter#melissa o'neil
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Hcs about shadowpeach reconnecting?
i like to think of it being very slow. to me, shadowpeach is the slowest of all slow burns both when they’re developing a relationship and trying to reconnect.
while i am a sucker for shadowpeach fluff and them being all clingy and cuddley, i still don’t think the two would even get that close for some time (and i mean some time).
lemme see if i can do a little rundown (i fucking lied) of my idea of a shadowpeach reconnection post-s4:
after the scroll and after their battle with the Brotherhood, both are in an agreement of a truce. as in, both acknowledged that neither of them wish to really fight or stay upset with the other because both understand that they never really could
so there’s a truce, a renewed exchange of peaches, that informs the other that while nothing will ever be like before….maybe that’s for the best, maybe they deserve something different and new between them
it doesn’t immediately take away from all their hurt feelings and pettiness. Wukong’s teasing will never hit the same and Macky’s guard is still at full defense
MK will still find them arguing up to the sky about something as trivial as which path leads to which waterfall and “shut up and just follow me, you idiot, this mountain has been my home for over a millennia”
but there are baby steps in the right direction (Pigsy would call it the “babiest of steps” but nobody asked him)
it takes them a year to come to terms that their petty arguing is just petty to be petty (tho they hold out a little longer because neither want to admit that to each other because it could meaning losing the game. what game? neither are exactly sure of what)
but it’s after both take the time to really refrain from that itch to bitch that both actually have a chance to talk with some substance (there may have been an external force that led to this conversation; a curse trapping them in a void space, being separated from the group so it’s just them two, the works)
but then that arguing loses its teeth and resembles something like banter. Wukong and Macky never truly did banter much in the past. not like this. it’s a little freeing. to be able to push and pull against each other without any reserve or need to
and this was their relationship for quite some time after. no physical hugs or touches like Wukong was privy to before or that Macky used to indulge in. you had the occasional glance here and there but not enough for the other to notice (everyone else, of course, noticed)
ironically, it’s Macky who initiates their first hug in ages.
Wukong, over the years, has slowly been building up to it with shoulder bumps, a light punch in the shoulder, and sometimes a bump to the hip.
when asked, Wukong would explain that he’s a physically affectionate guy but knows Mac has his limits and does his best to respect that as much as he can
on his own tho, Wukong personally feels like those touches are the most he will ever be granted to give. that is, until after a fierce battle, skirmish, whatever new daring thing that almost costs the Monkie Kid team, Macky actually pulls Wukong in for a hug
it’s nothing big or grand. well, nothing big for anymore normal since it’s a very short side hug, but it was something big for the both of them.
suffice to say, that was enough permission for Wukong to initiate more physical affection towards Macky
neither of them are really ready to put anything that they’re doing to name. makes it more definite and breakable
hell, they don’t even acknowledge that they’re past the point of tolerable acquaintances until a couple years later
but yeah, a shadowpeach reconnection, in my eyes, will takes years (centuries even) to truly rekindle their relationship. like i said, it’s a slow burn and one both want to tread carefully even if it’s agonizing to watch from the outside (see MK and friends)
#also#i don’t think the two would even talk about jttw until some years when both have a firmer footing on where both stand#bc it’s a touchy topic for both#they could reminisce about anything from their past but always stay quiet with jttw until much MUCH later#in my mind#but yeah that’s my idea#it’s also why when i write Wukong’s death both are still not close to where they were#there’s something. something both quietly acknowledge to be there and existing between the two but can’t breach bc of#how new and fragile their renewed relationship is with each other#and even post reconnecting they would be the absolute worst with how clingy they are#both would deny it if asked but omfg they would be so terrible and can’t even stand to stay away for long#ugh i hate them (liar)#lmk#shadowpeach#asks#lmk headcanon#long post#ish#probably
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ପ( ໊๑˃̶͈⌔˂̶͈)੭ ❀⠀𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓⠀!
introducing our summer, the september google docs template from tinytowns. featuring a sleek design translated from a certain company's old website 'cause the new one pales in comparison. this document is three - pages long with a hefty amount of images, so it may take a while to load & also to edit. prior knowledge to google docs is likely needed, but help is always available through ask. the purpose of our summer is to showcase roleplay or writing projects as if they were tv series or movies. below the read more are image sizings, unique guidelines for usage of this doc, and general pointers. the doc can be found in the source code, or through a link at the end of this post.
✶ sizings
popular on netflix: 300x166 but here's a psd for your convenience.
big video: 818x533 - you might be able to go smaller
cast photos: 300x300
episode thumbnail: 176x100
title logo: 258x92
✶ guidelines
all popular on netflix images are to be changed as they do contain references / the names of my friends' projects & my own, among game franchises etc. regardless, they're my editing and i'd prefer them changed to your own stuff. this is non - negotiable, sorry !
mixing my documents is perfectly fine, as long as the other template is from my catalogue.
don't lift elements from my google docs & use them in someone else's template with no credit to me.
✶ tutorial
#01. go to file -> make a copy, in order to edit.
#02. to change the title logo double click & wait for the google drawings window to open up. when it does, click on my logo and hit 'replace image' with your psd.
#03. to change the popular on netflix thumbnails click them once and hit replace image: the selected thumbnail was edited in photoshop using layer style and has a stroke of "inside; 4".
#04. to change the big video's image click it once and hit replace image. there is a gradient overlay to the left of the image so be careful where you're clicking ! make sure you're hitting the right side of the big video when you're going to replace it.
#05. to change the cast photos & episode thumbnails just click them once and hit replace image.
#05. questions ? hit me up through ask, i'm always happy to help !
✶ general pointers
again, make sure you're not selecting the gradient when replacing the big image. hit somewhere under or around the "x" mark.
try and keep the description around three lines: if you don't, things in the document might move.
sometimes the white arrow under the selected thumbnail might go behind the gradient: to fix it, just select the gradient and move it slightly, then back into place.
when moving onto the next page remember to replace the thumbnails to the left, as if it's scrolling. for end - pieces i'd recommend looking at that psd i provided earlier and going into the shadows folder : apply left or right shadow depending on where the image is.
you can probably replace some images with gifs ! not sure how well it'd work, but worth a try. just remember to use your own gifs or ones you got permission to use.
✶ link
can't find the source code ? no worries, here's a link to the document.
any questions, just let me know through ask !
#google docs#template#gdocs#supportcontentcreators#rpc#rph#free#free rph#free rpc#google docs template#project sheet#oc template#docs#free template#tinytowns#m: gdocs#m: site based
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