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nemo-writes · 1 month ago

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⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; finally awake, the pack must face the consequences of their unraveling—and the distance growing between them and the one they love the most.

★ warnings; memory loss, slight non-con elements, violence

☆ story masterlist

Ghost jolted awake, his heart pounding and skin damp with sweat, his whole body aching with the telltale pain of staying too long in his wraith form. His mask is gone and he’s drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around him, as if he’d been thrashing in his sleep. As he blinked away the haze, he recognized the dim, familiar space of his own room—the one he reserved for moments when he needed to be alone, away from the pack.

“Easy there.” Gaz’s voice cuts through the silence, weary but grounded. He’s sitting in a chair by his side, leaning forward with a flask in hand, his face lined with exhaustion. He looks a mess, his usual spark dampened by something deeper, something heavy.

"Drink this," he murmurs, pressing the flask toward him. The bitter, herbal scent fills Ghost's nose, and he recoils. It’s not your tonic—the one you tailored just for him—but something improvised. The smell is close enough, familiar in a way that unsettles him further. Still he takes the flask, grimacing as he gulps down the harsh liquid in one go. It burns down his throat, sending a faint warmth through his limbs, dulling the ache, but only slightly.

“This isn’t the real thing,” he mutters, passing the flask back.

“It’s what we’ve got,” Gaz replies, a hint of dry bitterness in his voice. “Better than nothing.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, thick and stagnant. Frustration claws at Ghost, his mind churning with broken memories, fragments of something he can’t fully grasp. He clenches his fists, the memories slipping through his mind like sand.

“Talk to me,” he finally says, voice low and tight. “What’s been happening? Everything’s blurred, like I’ve been… trapped in a dream.” His eyes flash with frustration, sharp and intense.

Gaz looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggles to find the words. He inhales deeply, the silence stretching before he finally speaks, his voice low and tired. “You… we’ve been off, mate. The whole pack has. Lost, distracted, like we’ve been… obsessed.” He laughs bitterly, as if the word doesn’t quite cover it. “You especially.”

“Leah,” Ghost breathes out, the name slipping past his lips as his hands clenched into fists, his mind swimming with half-formed images of her—her face, her touch, her scent. But it’s all fractured and wrong, impossible to hold onto.

“How long?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. “How long have we been… like this?”

Gaz shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not meeting his gaze. “Weeks,” he admits. “Weeks of us barely recognizing ourselves. We neglected the house, each other, our own bloody lives.”

Ghost tries to stand, only for his body to betray him, a sharp pain shooting up his legs. “And you’re only telling me now?” he snaps, anger flaring up. “We’ve been falling apart, and you didn’t think to snap me out of it sooner?”

Gaz flinches but holds his ground, meeting his pack-mates' gaze with determination. “You weren’t exactly listening, Simon. None of us were. Tried everything I could—potions, wards, even talking sense into you, but you wouldn’t hear a word against her. And then, it got to me too....”

Ghost lets out a frustrated growl. And then, as if reganing some of his long-forgotten sense, he thinks of you.

“We need to see her. Talk to her. Find out what’s happening.”

Gaz knows exactly who he’s talking about, his heart and mind in sync with his.

“We haven’t seen her in days.” Gaz laments, hand rubbing his face in desperation. “Her phone’s disconnected, and I’ve been taking care of you while Price went to look for Johnny.”

“Are they okay?” Ghost cuts him off again, but Gaz, despite looking so tired and haggard, doesn’t mind.

“Johnny went feral, stayed in his werewolf form for too long. But he’s alright now; he’s resting in his room. We stacked it up with a few of our clothes and food, or whatever we had remaining. We just haven't been able to leave the house, Price and I. Especially not with Leah still around.”

His last words come out strained, verging on bitter. Ghost can feel the weight of Gaz’s frustration; they’re all trapped in this swirling chaos, and every moment feels like they’re slipping further and further away from you.

Gaz reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes. They were plain, but clean—washed, pressed, and smelling faintly of lavender, a welcome break from the stale scent that seemed to hang over everything else. A fresh black facemask was also neatly folded into the pile.

“Go and get cleaned up,” Gaz said, holding them out to Ghost.

“Didn’t think anyone would’ve had the mind to do some laundry around here,” he muttered, a hint of dry humour cutting through the weariness as he accepted the clothes.

Gaz watched Ghost with a steady gaze, studying the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. After a pause, he pulled out his phone, typing a quick message to the others.

"I’ll let the boys know you’re up,” he murmured, looking back at Ghost. “But before we reach out for any answers, we need to be together. Properly. You, me, Price, and Johnny. The whole pack.”

There was something grounding about that idea—that, whatever had happened, whatever answers lay ahead, they’d face it unified. The pack had always been his constant, and in the haze of recent weeks, he’d almost forgotten how much that meant.

Gaz finished typing and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression shifting to something softer. “Take your time, Simon. Get a shower, clear your head. I’ll wait right here.”

Without another word, Ghost headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, easing the aches in his muscles and slowly peeling away the residue of exhaustion. He scrubbed his face, shaved, and let the water run over him, each drop lifting a little more of the fog that had settled over his mind.

When he finally emerged, clean and dressed, he felt steadier, like he was slipping back into himself. Gaz stood in the room, hands casually in his pockets, watching him with a faint but genuine smile. As Ghost approached, Gaz stepped forward, leaning up to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Then, he took his larger hand in his, squeezing it firmly. Simon hesitated just a moment before squeezing back, a silent gesture of thanks passing between them. The steady weight of Gaz’s hand in his felt grounding, a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone.

Ghost nodded, the last of his hesitation falling away. “Let’s go.”

. . .

The silence in the room was heavy, like a smothering blanket that none of them could cast off. The air held an edge of tension, cut only by the occasional creak of the old house settling. The room itself mirrored their state—scattered, untidy, and dimly lit by the fading glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the grime-streaked windows.

Johnny slumped deeper into the couch, the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie swallowing his frame. The scent of his packmate clung to it, earthy and metallic, a faint reminder of stability in a world that felt increasingly foreign. He tugged the hoodie closer around his shoulders, his hands hidden in the oversized sleeves. His overgrown hair and scruff shadowed his face, but his furrowed brows betrayed his unease.

Gaz sat at the table, his leg bouncing in a steady, erratic rhythm. The untouched tea in front of him had gone cold, a thin film forming on its surface. He stared at it like it might hold the answers they couldn’t seem to find. His jaw clenched as he tapped the table with a finger, the sound barely audible over the tick of the wall clock.

Ghost sat beside him, the chair groaning under his weight. The tension in his shoulders was visible even under his heavy sweater, his face-mask firmly in place. He hadn’t said a word since they sat down, but the intensity in his stillness spoke volumes.

John stood by the window, his back to them, puffing on his cigar with short, agitated breaths. Smoke curled around him, dissipating into the stale air of the room. His reflection in the glass was fractured and ghostly, distorted by the grime. He had always been their anchor, their steadying force, but now he seemed just as lost as the rest of them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gaz finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been days since he’d used it. “We all felt it. That… pull. It wasn’t normal. But now? Now it’s like—” He paused, searching for the words. “Like my skin crawls just thinking about her.”

Johnny let out a sharp exhale, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Aye. Same. I can’t even picture her face properly. Feels like I’ve got glass under my skin whenever I try.” He glanced at Ghost, who remained still, his eyes fixed on the table. “Mate, you’re the one who’s best at keeping your head. You’ve got nothin’?”

Ghost’s fingers stopped drumming. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under the shift. “It’s not about keeping my head, Johnny,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s about the fact that I should remember. We all should. But there’s… nothing. Just a hole where the memories should be.”

Gaz slammed his palm against the table, making Johnny flinch. “And that’s the other thing, isn’t it? Her. And you.” His sharp gaze cut to Ghost, your name rolling off his lips. “We were ready to ask her to be part of the pack. It was all we thought about for weeks. Then—” He gestured vaguely, frustration radiating off him. “Now she’s gone, and it feels like—like someone yanked a piece out of us and then stitched us back up wrong.”

“Enough!” John barked, his voice rough from too many cigars. He turned from the window, his expression dark and weary. “We can’t sit here blaming each other or wallowing in what we don’t know. The fact is, something happened. Something we can’t explain. And until we figure out what it was, none of this”—he gestured at the room, at them—“is going to make sense.”

Ghost leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, tension etched into every line of his frame. His voice was low but firm as he rasped out your name, “What about her?”

“She’s alive,” Johnny muttered. His voice was uncertain, his fingers trembling. “I can feel it. Somewhere out there. But she’s… out of reach. Like something’s keeping us from her.”

John’s gaze darkened as he looked at each of them in turn, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “We can’t do anything for her—not yet. First, we need to pull ourselves together. Look at this place.” He swept his arm, indicating the wrecked furniture, the dust and chaos surrounding them. “We’re a mess, and that mess isn’t just around us—it’s in our heads.”

He paced to the trash bin, tying off the bag with sharp, precise movements. “We’re no good to her like this. We clear this house. We clear our minds. Only then can we figure out what’s happened, where she is, and why we’re being kept from her.”

Gaz frowned, the sting of John’s words cutting through his frustration. “And Leah?” he asked bitterly. “What do we do about her?”

John’s jaw tightened, the embers of his cigar flaring briefly as he took a long draw. He let the silence stretch, considering his response. “We leave her alone,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “She’s dangerous, whatever she is. And right now, so are we. Until we understand what’s happened to us, we keep our distance.”

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy over them. Slowly, Ghost nodded, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. Johnny exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion and frustration etched into his features.

“Right then,” Price said, breaking the silence as he picked up the trash bag. “Let’s get to it. House isn’t going to clean itself.”

One by one, they rose to their feet, their steps slow and hesitant, but they moved. The weight of what lay ahead loomed, but for now, they focused on the first step—clearing the wreckage, both inside and out.

. . .

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the dull scrape of furniture being moved did little to mask the oppressive tension hanging over the house. Price stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, methodically scrubbing a stubborn plate with the kind of focus reserved for anything but the situation at hand. The faint slosh of water and the rhythmic clink of ceramic broke the silence, but not the heaviness in the air.

Nearby, a trash bag sat tied and waiting. Price gave the plate a final rinse, then stacked it neatly with the others before drying his hands on a worn kitchen towel. He grabbed the trash bag on his way out the back door, letting the screen creak open and slam shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Johnny tied his overgrown hair into a small, haphazard ponytail, the uneven strands barely staying put. His freshly shaved jaw—courtesy of Price earlier that morning—stood out starkly against his otherwise dishevelled appearance, making the lingering exhaustion in his eyes even more pronounced. He heaved another broken chair onto the growing pile near the back door, his movements sluggish but determined.

Ghost, nearby, silently swept debris from the floor, the steady rhythm of the broom punctuating the tense quiet. His broad frame was taut, shoulders coiled as though bracing for a blow that never came. Neither man spoke, their shared silence a testament to the strain hanging heavy in the air.

Upstairs, Gaz moved with a quiet purpose through his small workshop, tucked away in a corner of the house. The room smelled faintly of burnt herbs and candle wax, the aftermath of his earlier work lingering in the air. A faint golden glow pulsed from the fresh wards he had just set in front of Leah's door down the hall, the intricate pattern etched with precision into the wood.

He wiped his hands on a rag, the faint shimmer of magical residue clinging to his fingertips. The wards he had placed were strong, layered to shield her room from any unwelcome interference, but also to keep her presence confined. It wasn’t a solution, just a precaution—one that weighed heavily on him.

Suddenly, the sharp trill of the phone cut through the quiet, making Johnny start and Ghost stop. Price turned his head slightly, before nodding curtly, “I’ll get it.”

He stalked over to the phone mounted on the hallway wall, snatching the receiver up with a practised brusqueness. “Price.”

“John,” came Laswell’s voice, rough and harried.

He frowned, his grip on the receiver tightening. “Kate?”

“I need to see you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “All of you.”

Price’s frown deepened. “This isn’t a good time, Laswell.”

“No, now’s exactly the time,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through the line. “This isn’t something we can handle over the phone. I’m coming up. Be ready.”

His jaw clenched. “An explanation would be nice.”

“You’ll get one when I’m there,” she bit out. Then, after a beat, her voice softened, weariness creeping in. “I’ve got answers, John. But not all of them. Just... be ready. I’ll be there in an hour.”

The line clicked dead before he could press her further.

Price lowered the receiver slowly, his eyes narrowing as he replaced it on the cradle with a deliberate motion. He turned back to the others, his expression grim.

Gaz descended the stairs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped into the room. His brows knit together at the tension rolling off Price in palpable waves. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone cautious, catching the shift in the atmosphere like a physical blow.

“That was Laswell,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his stress.

“What did she want?” Gaz asked, his tone cautious.

“Says she’s on her way here,” Price replied, his voice clipped. “She’s got something to tell us. Something about what’s been happening.”

Johnny tilted his head, suspicion flickering in his tired eyes. “She knows what’s wrong with us?”

“Didn’t say.” Price reached for the cigar resting in the ashtray and took a long drag, exhaling sharply. “Only that it’s too much for the bloody phone.”

Gaz frowned, his brow furrowed. “Think it’s about Leah? Or... us?”

“Could be both,” Price said curtly. He cast a glance toward the stairs, his lips thinning. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Ghost’s grip tightened on the broom handle, his voice low. “An hour isn’t much time.”

“No, it’s not,” Price muttered. He turned toward the windows again, his profile cast in sharp focus by the dim light filtering through. “So get your heads on straight. Whatever she’s bringing, it’s not gonna be good.”

Johnny let out a humourless laugh as he tossed the piece of wood onto the pile.

Gaz muttered something under his breath before returning to his workshop. Ghost, ever silent, resumed sweeping, his movements just as sharp and tense as before.

They had an hour to prepare—for Laswell’s arrival, for her answers, and for the storm they all knew was coming.

. . .

The moment Laswell’s car pulled up the gravel driveway, the tension in the house thickened. Price watched from the window, his third cigar of that morning, forgotten in the ashtray as he studied the vehicle. Two figures stepped out behind her, their familiar silhouettes making his jaw tighten. Alejandro and Rudy.

“Well, this just got worse,” he muttered under his breath, turning to glance at the others. Gaz frowned, Ghost took a long sip from his tea, and Johnny stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

The trio approached the house with purpose. Laswell led the way, her usual sharp demeanour dulled by weariness, while Alejandro and Rudy followed, their expressions unreadable but far from happy.

Price opened the door before they could knock, his broad frame blocking the entrance. “Laswell. Alejandro. Rudy.”

Alejandro gave him a curt nod. “Price.”

John stepped aside without a word, letting them file into the house. The pack stood scattered in the living room, their postures defensive.

“Stinks in here,” Alejandro muttered as he took in the room, nose scrunched up. His sharp eyes swept over the remaining clutter and the signs of disrepair before landing on Ghost. His gaze darkened.

Ghost stiffened under the scrutiny but didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened as he rose up to meet Alejandro.

“You look better,” Alejandro said coolly, stopping just in front of him.

Ghost grunted, a curt acknowledgment that sounded more like a growl.

“Good,” Alejandro said, his voice like steel. “Now grit your teeth.”

The punch came so fast no one had time to react. Alejandro’s fist connected with Ghost’s jaw with a sickening crack, the force sending him staggering backward. He hit the floor on one knee, his hand clutching his face.

Gaz moved to help, but Alejandro snapped, “Stay out of it cabrón (bastard)!”

Johnny let out a furious snarl, his body coiled to lunge, but Price’s bark stopped him cold. “Stand down, Johnny!”

Johnny stopped, his eyes darting between Price and Ghost, his hands trembling with restrained fury.

Ghost slowly pushed himself up, his expression stoic despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. His eyes met Alejandro’s, something resigned yet determined in his gaze. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered hoarsely.

“You’re damn right you did,” Alejandro growled, shaking out his fist.

“Now,” Ghost rasped, leaning back onto his haunches, “tell us everything. Absolutely everything.”

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lovegalor333 · 2 months ago

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˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

sick day (next part)

summary: you’re sick and paige looks after you

content warnings: none!

mainly because im sick and dying rn and wish someone would look after me lol 🥲

“You said you had a slight cold, Y/N. This is not a slight cold, you look like death.” Paige says as she looks at you from the end of your bed.

You’re bundled up under your covers shivering and the light Paige just turned on hurts your eyes so you keep them closed, not wanting to worsen your already brain splitting headache.

“It is a cold.” You grumble, your throat hurting with every word.

“Uh huh, that’s why you haven’t moved a muscle since I’ve been stood here, when usually I can’t even make it through the door without you being in my arms.” She says matter of factly and she’s right. Whenever Paige comes over, you’re practically bouncing at the door waiting for her and tackle her into a hug as soon as she comes into sight.

“I’m fine, just tired.” You try and lie but Paige knows you better than that and you know her well enough to know she’s about to challenge you.

“Come here then.” She remarked and you peeled your eyes open, squinting at the bright light to see her stood with her arms crossed over her chest, a knowing look on her face but you was not about to admit defeat.

You begrudgingly flipped the duvet off your body, arms aching at the slightest of movement and you manoeuvre your body to the edge of the bed before bracing yourself to stand. Your legs were weak and wobbly as you took small steps towards Paige and just as you were about to reach her and prove her wrong, your knees buckled beneath you and she lurched forward, catching you in her arms.

“Easy baby, it’s OK, I got you. Let’s get you back to bed.” Paige says, effortlessly hooking one arm under your legs and the other around your back, lifting you off the floor to carry you back to the safe surface of your mattress.

“You’re burning hot too, Y/N. I think you have a fever.” She notes as she lays you back down, the back of her hand coming in contact with your forehead, then your neck and finally your chest.

“But I’m so cold, I can’t get warm.” You mumble, burying yourself back under your duvet trying to stop the shivers taking over your body.

“Definitely a fever. I’ll be back. Stay here.” She tells you, fixing the duvet over your body as you had done a bad job doing it yourself.

“Do you think I can go anywhere?”

“Sick but still got an attitude, that’s my girl.”

You drift in and out of sleep while Paige is gone and your headache only worsens and you hope she comes back soon because you need a drink but you can’t move. Your limbs feel like lead and your head spins at the smallest of movements.

You hear the front door to your apartment open and close and the taps of familiar footsteps walking towards your room and you immediately know it’s your girlfriend and you’re thankful you’re no longer alone because you genuinely feel like you’re dying.

“You’re back.” You whisper and your voice comes out low and weak you barely even recognise it.

“And I brought supplies.” Paige announces and you flutter your eyes open and she’s holding a huge bag, packed full with God knows what.

“Tylenol, DayQuil and NightQuil, Gatorade because you need electrolytes, soup, tissues, herbal tea, oranges for vitamin C, your favourite candy and water because I just know you’ve not been drinking enough.” She reels off what she bought as she lays it out on your bed.

Paige helps you sit up, propping up your pillows behind your back for support. She pops a few pills into her hand and unscrews the cap of a bottle of water, “Open up.” She says and you’re in no position to argue so you open your mouth and she drops the medicine inside before bringing the bottle up to your lips for you to take a sip.

“Thank you.” You croak out and she just shakes her head, “I wish you would have told me you were this bad. I would have been here straight away.”

“I didn’t want to worry you…or being a burden.” You admit and she sits on the edge of the bed, her hands taking yours, “You are not a burden. Far from it. I want to help you get better, just let me.” She practically begs and you could cry. You were so used to looking after yourself and always being the one to take care of others, it felt foreign being on the receiving end of such selfless actions.

“I’m going to make you some tea and soup. You think you can handle that?” She asks, rubbing your arm comfortingly.

“Maybe just the tea?” You suggest not feeling particularly hungry.

“OK, but soup later because you have to eat, Y/N.” She insists before taking the pack of tea to make you a cup.

Paige returns with a huge mug of hot tea and a damp cloth, “For the fever.” She says placing it on your head and even though you feel freezing cold, your teeth are chattering, the cool cloth is a soothing sensation against your burning skin.

You take the tea with shaky hands and immediately take a sip, the hot liquid mellowing out the pains in your throat. Paige positions herself next to you in your bed, tucking herself under your covers. Her body next to yours is comforting after laying alone, sick and suffering for the past twenty four hours.

“I don’t want to get you sick.” You sniffle, weary that whatever illness had attacked your immune system is probably contagious.

“Don’t worry about me baby, let’s focus on getting you better.” Paige replied hooking an arm around your shoulder.

You take a few more sips of tea before placing it down on your beside table, starting to feel tired as if sitting up in bed had taken the last of your diminishing energy.

You shuffle your body down so your practically laying in Paiges lap and her hand falls to your head and she runs her fingers through your hair, repeatedly. Her actions are slow and soft and full of love, you knew you’d be asleep in seconds.

“I’m tired, P.” You mutter, feeling guilty that you were about to fall alseep, leaving your girlfriend nursing you.

“It’s OK, go to sleep baby, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You give into your exhaustion at Paiges words and your eyes fall shut to the feeling of her fingers in your hair, your head on her lap and her scent being the only thing you can smell.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: don’t forget to send me requests if you have any! ily 💋

#paige bueckers #wlw #lgbtq #oneshot #paige x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #blurb #paige bueckers imagine #fanfic #lesbian

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colebabey888 · 3 months ago

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From Morning Routine to Nighttime Rituals | IT GIRL DIARIES

Becoming an IT Girl means embracing a lifestyle that balances beauty, productivity, and mindfulness. Let's take a look in the daily life of your ideal IT Girl...

Morning: Energizing Start 🎀

The IT Girl starts her day early, around 6 AM, with a refreshing glass of hot lemon water to detox and hydrate. She follows this with a quick workout, like indoor cycling or yoga, to get her blood flowing and boost her energy for the day ahead. After her workout, she treats herself to a skincare routine with gentle cleansers, serums, and sunscreen, focusing on achieving that effortless glow.

For breakfast, she enjoys a nutritious green juice, packed with spinach, kale, and ginger, which supports her clear skin and nourishes her body from within. She also takes a few moments for mindfulness practice, like journaling or meditation, to set positive intentions for the day.

Mid-Morning: Work Mode 🎀

By 9 AM, she’s in full productivity mode. To stay organized, she uses a to-do list or productivity app to break her day into manageable tasks. Whether she’s running a business, working on creative projects, or attending meetings, she prioritizes efficiency while taking short breaks to prevent burnout.

Lunch: Balanced and Light 🎀

For lunch, the IT Girl opts for a light, clean meal, like a salad with lean protein or healthy fats. She avoids processed foods and sugars, sticking to a nutrient-rich diet that keeps her feeling energized. During her break, she might catch up on reading or listen to a podcast that aligns with her personal growth goals.

Afternoon: Social and Active 🎀

In the afternoon, she may meet with friends, colleagues, or network with like-minded individuals. Socializing is a key part of her lifestyle, but she also remains selective about the company she keeps, ensuring her circle is supportive and inspiring.

To stay active, she might sneak in a quick walk or stretch, especially if she’s been working at a desk. Physical movement is important, even during a busy day, to maintain that IT Girl energy.

Evening: Wind Down in Style 🎀

As the day winds down, the IT Girl prepares for a relaxing evening. After finishing her tasks, she switches to self-care mode with an evening skincare routine, focusing on cleansing, moisturizing, and perhaps a face mask. She also enjoys a warm bath or some light stretching to soothe her body.

For dinner, she sticks to whole, unprocessed foods, such as grilled vegetables and lean proteins. The evening is her time to unwind, reflect, and recharge for the next day. She might do some light reading, indulge in a creative hobby, or spend time with loved ones.

Nighttime: Sleep Rituals 🎀

By 10 PM, it’s time for her nighttime rituals. The IT Girl knows the importance of quality sleep for her beauty and productivity. She turns off screens at least an hour before bed and enjoys a cup of herbal tea. Finally, she practices gratitude journaling to reflect on her day, setting a positive tone for the next morning.

_____

xoxo, @colebabey888

www.thedigitaldollar/gumroad.com

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year ago

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Deep Water - Part 1

cw: the ocean, talk of being drowned, water inhalation, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You peeked out a small porthole, a rarity on this kind of ship. You couldn’t decide if you were grateful for it or not as your stomach churned looking out at choppy waters.

You’d never been particularly comfortable with the ocean. It wasn’t that you disliked it, far from it. You just had a healthy fear of it.

Right now, it felt like anyone who didn’t was a fool.

As you looked down at swirling black water, swearing you saw something snake around just far enough under the surface that you couldn’t make it out, that fear felt very reasonable.

It wasn’t only fear that consumed you when you looked out at that churning water. There was awe in there too, as you looked at the seemingly infinite abyss below you.

But not enough awe that you wouldn’t keep yourself as far away from it as you could.

But that was the problem. Fate had thrusted you right into deep waters and you’d had no choice in the matter.

So there you were, stowed away on a transport ship, tucked amongst boxes of spices and herbs and expensive teas that you’d never get to try.

At least your hidden little corner smelled good, some of the herbal scents escaping their carefully packed boxes.

You sat back down behind them, trying to put the thought of the turbulent waters under a few thin layers of wood out of your mind as the waves rocked you back and forth at a sickening pace, never quite stabilizing enough to be able to fall into a rhythm, refusing to be tuned out or ignored.

You pulled your shawl tighter around you, though it was no use. The chill of the ship had long since set itself into your bones.

You closed your eyes and tried to tell if it was raining or if it was just the darkness of the night blanketing the ocean. The sounds of the waves roared above anything else. You decided it wasn’t, more for your own peace of mind than anything. You didn’t need water coming at you from any more directions.

As you sat, curled up on the floor trying to focus on anything other than the deafening crashing of the waves, a new sound caught your attention. The door creaked open and as footsteps approached you, you held your breath.

They’d caught you on an exhale and sooner than you would’ve liked, you had to sneak a tiny breath of air. Nothing noticeable, surely. Not through the sounds of crashing water.

And then the ship slammed to the side, a massive wave sending the ground tilting under your feet.

The boxes slid as the ship wretched and you went with them, slamming into the opposite wall of the ship.

The sailor cursed as he pushed his way out from behind the boxes that had slid right into him. You scrambled to push yourself away, to obscure yourself in any way possible. You didn’t have time to stand but maybe you could hide yourself just far enough away in the dark that he wouldn’t see you.

You weren’t fast enough.

His hand snaked out to grab your leg, ending your desperate scramble to get away before it had even really begun.

“No wonder we got stuck in this god-awful storm, found our bad luck charm right here.”

You kicked at him, trying to struggle, to get away, to run. But where was there to go? They knew you were here now, it was over. You were at their mercy.

The pleading started as soon as it sunk in, desperate promises that you wouldn’t cause any trouble, that it was only a day until they docked, you could stay out of their way, they wouldn’t even notice you.

Rain poured down on your face as you were dragged above deck.

Part of you was aware of the talk that began to arise as the others caught sight of you. You couldn’t focus on anything other than getting away, trying with everything you had to run.

Despite that, you were pulled closer and closer to the edge of the ship. The rain got saltier and through the dark and endless storm, you realized you were at the edge of the ship, briny water splashing over the sides and hitting you in the face.

You doubled your attempts of escape as you looked down on the dark waters, not sure where you would go if you escaped but certain that anything was better than being pulled closer and closer to the inky waters.

“This is your own fault,” one of them yelled over the storm, directed at you this time.

“Please,” you called out, “Please let me stay. I’ll do anything.”

It was an ill-advised promise, especially to make to a ship full of sailors, but you could not be thrown overboard. You’d even prefer one of them ending you here and now, with your feet still standing on the wood of the deck.

Anything but being thrown off, your lungs filling with the churning, black water below you.

“You should have thought of that before you stowed away,” the man to your left said, with what sounded almost like a chuckle. You hoped you’d imagined it amongst the rest of the endless noise.

It was hard to know exactly what was happening. The waves were roaring and you could hardly see or hear anything.

One second your feet were thrashing, fighting to land a blow on any of the men near you, and the next you were underwater. If you thought gathering your bearings was hard on the ship, it was impossible down here. It must be nearby but you had no idea where the ship could be. You fought to stay afloat despite knowing exactly how this would end. There was nothing else to it now. You’d landed in your cold, wet grave. The waves forced you under again and again and no matter how you tried to time your breaths, you couldn’t escape the burn of the saltwater sneaking into your lungs.

Just as you’d breached the surface again, attempting to cough up some water before heaving in another deadly breath, something yanked at your foot and you were pulled under the waves once more. Your scream was drowned out by the ocean, eyes fighting to open despite the sting of the seawater.

As you opened your eyes, you realized it was calmer under the water. You were no longer trying to fight the wishes of the waves to pull you down and the ocean rewarded you with a moment of clarity.

The rockiest part was near the surface, where the rain still beat down on the water. You were being pulled further and further away, so far down that the last rays of sun from behind the clouds could barely reach.

You’d expected to see a shark or some other ocean creature as you’d felt that tug on your leg. Instead, you found a face staring back at yours. He looked curious, taking you in as you stared dumbfounded back at him.

Before you had a chance to process what you were seeing, the man who’d just pulled you under the waves leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t a long kiss, ending before you even fully realized it began.

He pulled away and your lungs began to burn, pleading for oxygen. You tried to swim up for air but he grabbed your arm and yanked you down again. Then you caught a glimpse of something below him, the limited light reflecting off of a shimmering tail.

You gasped in water, your lungs unable to hold out any longer. Instead of choking on the ocean water filling your chest, you felt like you were gasping in air. You knew it was water, the texture was different than the air was, but as you heaved in water, you discovered you could breathe.

He was smirking at you, the smugness evident in his face.

He let go of your arm, having proved his point and you stayed under, filling your lungs while glancing up at the rocky surface.

Suddenly, you were being pulled along again, under the stormy water. You didn’t have the strength to fight him, letting him take you wherever he wanted.

It wasn’t long before you were being pushed into shallow water. You could feel the sand barely a few feet under the water and eagerly moved towards dry land.

You pulled yourself up onto the warm sand. The rain had disappeared entirely, the sun shining above you once more. You sucked in air, falling to your back as you basked in the warmth. Off in the distance, you could see the storm still swirling. You’d traveled much further than you’d thought. The feeling of the sun shining down on you was more than welcome and some wretched part of you hoped those sailors were still in that accursed storm.

As soon as you got your first breath of oxygen, it was like your lungs remembered that water wasn't supposed to be inside of them. You started coughing up the salty water onto the shore, gasping like you’d been drowning the whole time and just hadn’t realized it yet.

You saw your savior wince as you hacked up the seawater. “Sorry, didn’t know that would happen.”

You stared up at him incredulously as your breathing finally slowed. “Aren't sirens supposed to drown humans?”

His eyes narrowed at you above the water. “Aren’t humans supposed to be grateful when you save them?”

Fair enough. “Thank you. I don’t really understand why you saved me but thank you.”

You laid back on the sand, inevitably getting it in your hair but too exhausted to mind. The warmth was welcome after the freezing cold water.

You took him in from your new vantage point, eyes darting instinctively to his tail. It was a pearlescent thing, the complex shimmering shifting above his white scales. Just above it was a set of gills that he kept below the water as he lay there, staring up at you on the shore. His face wasn’t unpleasant, something almost impish about it. A smattering of scales sat on his cheekbones right under eyes that were tinted orange. His hair was shaggy and pale, dragged down to his shoulders by the water that saturated it.

“We do drown people sometimes,” he said quietly, like he was working it out for himself and you just happened to be overhearing it. “I was planning on going after your ship but it didn’t feel like a fair fight after they threw you off like that.”

“Humans didn’t want me, sirens didn’t even want to drown me.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I can… I can drown you if you want?” he said, mouth barely above the water as he spoke.

“Maybe some other time. Where even are we?” you asked, looking around at the small patch of sand. It was a relatively barren little island, a few rocky tidepools on the other side of it the most exciting thing present on the small stretch of land.

“Just a little island nearby. I figured you’d want to get some rest before I took you anywhere. Why’d they throw you overboard anyway?”

“I was a stowaway,” you explained. “I needed to get somewhere and didn’t have any other way to travel. They found me mid storm and women are bad luck so off I went.”

“I can take you there if you want. Where the ship was going, I mean. I know all their routes. I won’t even drown you.”

Who would have guessed that the sailors would try to drown you and then you’d have a siren promising to bring you ashore? It was like the world had turned upside down.

“Thank you so much,” you said, hoping it could both convey your gratitude and keep him on your good side long enough to successfully get you to your destination.

“Also, we should wait until night, I’ll take you back then okay?” He sounded very insistent, despite you having no idea why.

You were honestly worried you might freeze to death if you left at night. “How about in the morning?”

“Yeah, okay.”

He waited eagerly, watching the sun set. It was refreshing, being able to see it clearly after locking yourself below deck for so long. When it finally dipped below the horizon, he turned to you. “Watch this.”

His tail flicked excitedly behind him, a light glow starting to reflect off of the scales on his bottom half.

As he ran his hands quickly through the water, you were able to make it out better. The water lit up a light blue as he moved.

You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face, your eyes going wide with wonder. “Oh my god, that’s incredible.”

“Isn’t it? It’s why I like this island so much, it’s so strong here. It’s a bunch of tiny plants in the water that are glowing, I thought you’d like it.”

How could you not? You’d never seen anything like it in your life, it almost looked like the water was alight with a blue flame.

You could feel your siren’s eyes on you as you moved your hand back and forth in the water.

“Are you less sad now?” he asked and your movement slowed at his question.

“What?”

“You were upset, did I fix it?”

Was that what he was trying to do? “Why do you care?”

He shrugged. “Not often I get to talk to you guys, our encounters are usually less pleasant than this. We’re kind of similar, you know. Sailors don’t like me either.”

“Small world.”

Eventually, you abandoned the glowing water, as amazing as it was, in an attempt to rest. You knew you needed to get some sleep. You were exhausted but it was cold and you never fully dried off and you were absolutely miserable. You heard a shuffling in the sand and then a warm hand touched your side. You didn’t know how his body regulated his temperature so well in the cold water. His arms were open, a clear invitation to nestle into him

You hesitated and he spoke. “You seem like you could use the warmth.”

You moved towards him, head settling on his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

“I thought fish were cold-blooded,” you said as his arms rubbed up and down yours, immediately sending a wave of heat through you.

“I’m only half fish.”

“Is that how you can breathe out here?” you asked, looking at the trail he left in the sand as he dragged himself ashore.

He murmured in the affirmative, leaning back to make sure you could comfortably lie down against him. He was right, his body heat did help. There was also something comforting about leaning against him, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

You drifted off faster than you would have thought possible while soaking wet and cuddled up with a fish man.

When you woke up, you glanced at the boy next to you. He really did look silly on the land like this, flopped over on his side. As you took him in, you stared at his gills right over where you assumed his ribs would be. You knew what he had told you last night but he looked too peaceful and still. You quickly nudged him awake, wanting to make sure he was alright out of the water like this.

He rubbed his eyes, moving slightly in the sand in an attempt to get a good look at you. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were still breathing.”

“Mmhmm, still breathing, can I go back to sleep now?”

He tried to roll over, tail flopping helplessly behind him, and you nudged him again. “Don’t we need to leave?”

He squinted up at your face, which you knew was creased with worry, and his demeanor softened. “Yeah, let’s get you home.”

You didn’t bother to correct him about where you were going, instead helping him back into the water. He pulled you in after him, looking back at you as he did, clearly deep in thought.

“You know how I kissed you yesterday?” he finally asked.

“To make me breathe underwater? Yeah, I do.”

“It would be much easier to transport you if you could breathe underwater again.”

It was the most roundabout way anyone had ever asked to kiss you before, that was for sure.

He seemed nervous about it so instead of letting him dwell on it, you just kissed him. You hoped there were no other rules to the kiss you needed to follow but your siren didn’t seem to mind, instead leaning into it. It was kind of nice, being the one to surprise him this time.

You knew the kiss didn’t have to be long, the one from the day before had barely lasted a moment, and yet you lingered. His hand hesitantly rose to cup your cheek, his touch featherlight. He wasn’t holding you there but his touch begged you to stay just a second longer.

He looked almost frightened when you pulled away, eyes wide and hand still outstretched.

“Will that work?” you asked.

He cleared his throat, still looking dazed. “Yeah, that should be fine. Come on.”

Even knowing that you’d be fine and you’d be able to breathe, it took forever to will yourself to inhale after he pulled you into the water, waiting until the last second before you passed out, when your body forced breathing on you.

The journey felt much faster than it should have been. You couldn’t have been zooming through the water for more than an hour when you were being pulled to the surface once more, your feet extending to find rocks beneath you.

You turned and your eyes met the shore, the dock looming above you. You guessed you’d probably beat the ship here. Who knows if they’d made it at all, maybe the storm had taken them out. Part of you hoped it had.

He grinned up at you as you stood, still lying below you in the water. “This is your stop.”

You had no idea how to thank him. What did one even say to someone who had just saved your life?

“Thank you,” you managed. “If you ever need anything…”

If he ever needed anything what? You couldn’t imagine he’d have a particularly easy time finding you.

He seemed to understand your meaning anyway. “I’ll be sure to ask. And if you ever change your mind on the drowning thing, let me know.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Will do.”

You settled on the shore, the rocks shifting beneath you as you sat, and you watched your siren swim off, one last shimmer of pale scales flashing before he disappeared into the waves.

#terato #merman x reader #merman x human #monster x reader #monster x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #merman #If this seems familiar bits of it are from a request from over a year ago lol #finally got around to turning it into a series like I wanted to

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