#SIGH did anyone get my casual ref though i beg

[melodic-haze]

☆ — SONG TITLE: I know what you tell your friends (it's casual)

☆ — PAIRING: mermaid!Kokomi x artist!Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW, bittersweet angst? I honest to god don't know

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: POTENTIALLY OOC for the purpose of the character......mostly, light depictions of blood, drowning

☆ — NOTES: HI ALL I DIED BUT WHO'S SHOCKED LMAO 😜😜 this is for @edgeray's Halloween event, though it's a bit late bc I was ill at the last week of it and I'm lazy😭 GO CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S STUFF HOLY HELL. Also, my interp of a mermaid is moreso leaning towards what people nowadays THINK sirens are. I js couldn't bear to USE 'siren' bc of how they're acc supposed to be like. Winged creatures, not fish people

☆ — WORD COUNT: 2,801 words

It was often said that one must not go into the beach all alone.

Naturally, people would often tell you of sensible reasons such as possibly having your fragile items like your phone being dropped into the sand or, god forbid, the water or losing said belongings if you were to ever leave them somehow.

However, the most notably repetitive reasoning came out to be the possibility of being missing.. or ‘taken by the sea’, as everyone else would say.

It was a lot easier to just say that someone was lost or missing, but there was a certain reason why most have opted to disregard practicality for the sake of glamorisation—where you live, there has been a concerning surplus of missing persons cases with their last-seen location all being the beach, the seaside, the shore, all the same thing. And no matter how much the police had tried to investigate it (and it’s crazy that they actually did try, though that might be due to government concern), they found nothing conclusive about how the victims disappeared.

Perhaps it was because of the tides washing any sort of evidence away, though such an assumption led to the cases all collectively being dismissed as a suicide because.. well, really, they had to put some sort of conclusion to the case when they couldn’t really find any other possible outcomes without it sounding like more of a conspiracy than it already was.

(Fat lot that did anyway, because you can’t even put nightwatch on post there without them getting taken too.)

..So to a normal person, being at the beach all alone with nothing but a phone and a sketchbook in hand in the middle of the night would equate to one of the dumbest things you can do out here.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about what would happen to you, or that you were experiencing that particular phase where you went against what was advised of you just because you wanted to be cool or popular or something (you weren’t a child, you were a grown adult with a life, for god’s sake), but oftentimes people like you all had one common flaw: artists were all dedicated to their craft, suffocatingly so.

And you were no exception, even if it had been too long since you drew with any sort of creative inspiration.

You remember when you walked back from god knows where and witnessing the way the moonlight hit the water, its gentle glow reflecting on the tide like fluid glass.

You remember that sweet dulcet tone stopping you in your tracks in the midst of your misery once your headphones lost power, the singing voice holding a certain alluring cadence that rooted you to the spot.

You remember the sight of dark crimson on shimmering claws and scales of blue, pink and purple, the palette much too distinct to be considered ‘natural’.

You remember the brief contact of eyes between your own and a set of glowing orbs that were no less striking than the tail that flapped behind the entity once it turned to have its body be entirely consumed by the ocean’s depths.

As an artist, you knew you had to immortalise the vision seared into your brain. And so, the day after that fateful encounter and consecutive days after that, you visited the beach at the exact time you remembered from before, picked up a pencil and opened your sketchbook to sketch like a madman possessed.

But of course as time passed, so did the freshness of your memory and your recollection of the details that had you entranced in the moment. The background itself? You had no problem. The issue was the oceanic figure; what details were you missing? What was its scale pattern? Was the red meant to mesh with the purple? What was it doing there?

Eventually you convinced yourself that maybe you were seeing things, and the messy scribbles of faint recollections were erased and drawn over with lines that connected the ever-flowing sea. Even when artists were seen as delusional, prone to confuse one thing with another—perhaps that thing was just a trick of the light, or maybe you’re starting to go insane, whichever tickled your fancy—you knew where to stop and come back to reality.

..Still doesn’t mean you had to keep coming back to the spot at the same time over and over again but alas, you couldn’t help it when you woke up at the dead of night just for your legs to lead you to the exact same spot you remember being at that very night.

Despite the constant warnings against the act of going to the beach all by yourself, nothing had happened to you or interrupted your creative flow despite being completely alone so the nights you spent on that exact spot were often peaceful, if a bit devoid of life. That was fine for you though, it meant less distractions from finally finishing this piece and moving on with your--

(You feel warm breath against your skin before you hear--)

“What are you doing?”

You startle, the pencil losing its gentle stability and creating an atrocious line across the page, and for a moment the irritation actually takes over any form of self-preservation you have.

So you start to complain, “I was drawing until you scared me—” then you turn to look at her, "—and made me ruin my own--"

...

Shimmering blue.

"..work."

Your speech fell flat the minute your gaze clocked onto those glaringly familiar set of eyes that pulled you in as if it were the ocean's depths itself. Its highlights were some sort of pearly pink, a soft contrast to the deep dark unknown.

And no pupils.

Maybe a trick of the light again, maybe you're hallucinating. Though you guessed even some of the best painters were kinda crazy back then.

"I apologise for disturbing you but, ah.. I don't suppose you can stop staring now?" And the mystery woman giggles lightly, her hand—a normal human hand, although her nails were manicured sharp and painted a glittering blue—moving to hover over her mouth as if to cover it politely, "I don't think I have anything of interest on my person to give you for.. emotional compensation?"

You blink, and you are drawn back to reality, "Physical, actually. You ruined my work."

"Even worse."

"You don't seem all that apologetic."

"But I am... Can't you tell?"

"It's dark, and our only light source right now are some busted tungsen street lamps." You sighed, putting your sketchbook and pencil down beside you, "Whatever, did you need something? No one's supposed to be out at the beach this late."

"Why not?"

"..Are you a tourist? Actually, no, if you were a tourist, you'd have to be real ignorant to not know... Though I've never actually seen you before."

You weren't sure if you lied just now or not. In fact, you're pretty sure you told the truth, but...

You see her stare at you, and you're unsure of what to do with the quiet.. until she shrugs, "I've been curious of what you were doing all alone at night. No one else seems to come outside."

"Don't you think that's any sort of indication to maybe mind your own business?"

"Forgive my curiosity."

You almost do, and you know not of why.

(Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, putting your safety to sleep.)

Instead, you relent, "People have gone missing after giving this place a visit all alone in the dead of night. Nobody really wants to die, so mornings and afternoons are when the people crowd here."

And you tear your gaze away from the stranger to look at the ever-expanding sea, "Come midnight, you won't see a single soul standing on the sand."

"But you're here," she says. "Why?"

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."

"I don't think I will."

"I doubt that—I don't even know your name."

"Kokomi."

You look back at her, brows raised slightly, "What?"

"My name is Kokomi. Yours?"

...

You tell her your name and state your purpose for coming here every single night. And from then on, the two of you talk until the sun comes up, sketchbook forgotten.

She asks you if you're going to come back now that your drawing's been ruined. You tell her that you don't know, considering your current lack of purpose, but then she says that she'll sit with you as you recreate your ruined art as if that's going to make up for the ruined days—weeks, even—of meticulously-sketched pencil art.

..For some reason, you were compelled to agree.

(Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the eyes.)

(Maybe it was the feeling of unsettling familiarity that drew you in, or that strange feeling of fight-or-flight.)

And so you continue to go down to the beach at night despite everyone's constant warnings, putting pencil to a new page in your sketchbook after having taken out and thrown away your previous attempt. Though even then, while there are still all sorts of warnings, people have noticed that there have been less and less people going missing from the shore. Can't help but think 'no wonder', considering how you haven't been killed or kidnapped after continuously coming here for so long.

Either way, nothing much has changed in your schedule.. save for a brand new companion appearing at night, her pink hair flowing behind you before going to sit beside you and observe.

Sometimes the two of you sit in comfortable silence, other times one of you talks of whatever comes to mind and it turns into some sort of winding discussion that ends with your sketchbook completely forgotten until you need to leave.

"..If you have something to say, you may as well spit it out."

"Hm?"

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my skull. You may as well."

"Ah, I hadn't realised that I was staring so hard!" You feel her body draw back from originally leaning onto you and you suppress the urge to pull her back next to you as she continues, "I'm just wondering... Was no one particularly interested in coming outside with you?"

You put your pencil down on the page and look at her with a raised brow, "Are you calling me lonely?"

"No? ..Well, perhaps a little, I admit. I don't ever see you outside with anyone else."

"Oh, so you've been watching me. A bit creepy, no?"

She shook her head, "The observation merely struck me just now. I haven't seen you with anyone else at night, apart from me."

Instead of giving the curious girl an answer, you look down on the pencilled page. There wasn't much that you could really say beyond the fact that everyone else was asleep at this time.. and...

"I like being alone at the end of the day."

"Mmm. Me too."

"..That so."

No one points out the fact that neither of you are alone right now.

Nothing else is said, and you continue on sketching.

Oftentimes, that's what usually happens.

And it's.. nice, being able to just sit there with soothing company—she isn't overwhelming, nor is she insufferably awkward or borderline unbearable. She was like a smooth current, her voice akin to the sound of gentle water and her touch against your skin as she leaned into you cool and refreshing.

Not like you'd admit it.

(You wouldn't because saying that to a stranger's face is, quite frankly, really lame.. though you couldn't help but touch upon the water's detailing a lot more delicately in your sketches.)

(Or think about drawing her as your muse under the moonlight instead.)

One certain topic she was particularly interested in was the iridescent visage you witnessed all those nights ago—anyone would be, of course, in an 'entertaining-the-schizo' sort of way, not.. not her way. Not with genuine curiosity laced with something much more hidden, inquisitive.

"What would you do if that thing came back?"

"Like, to do what?"

"Who knows." Kokomi wore a soft, jesting smile, "Eat you, perhaps?"

"Would you be there with me?"

"Let's start with a 'no'."

"Probably sit there."

"Really?"

As you muse on the question, you take the cap off your water bottle, "May as well die finishing this rather than live with it gnawing on my mind."

"You have no self-preservation, do you?"

"Would it be edgy if I said it was overrated?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged, letting her hair shift and cascade from her shoulders and her arms down to her back. "What would you do if I was there, then?"

You took a sip, "..Say thank you, maybe."

"Oh? Why?"

"For keeping me company? I guess? Dunno, I just feel like I should thank you if I died on this beach with you."

You turn to look at her, and before you could say anything more, you notice the look on her face; it's indecipherable, blank, as if she were sizing you up and profiling you within her mind palace.. but what for?

Her eyes are unsettling—a touch of hunger glimmers in the ocean depths—as they stare at you (and has she ever even blinked once?) but then the moment you blink, her light expression is back as if it was never taken off.

"Let's hope that neither of us die, haha."

"Right..."

You also can't help but notice the way that you are reminded of said visage whenever you look at her, especially when she's by the water.

"Join me?"

"Why should I?"

"Perhaps you need a change of pace," she says as she takes off her lavender jacket and leaves her slippers off the sand. "I get the feeling, but you've been concentrating on your work for a while now."

"I don't swim."

"Don't? Or can't? I can teach you."

"Why?"

"Perhaps being in the water may help you gain a bit more perspective with your art."

"But I only need one perspective. Plus the water would be cold."

Kokomi stares at you with a slightly tilted head, and you can't help but notice her unusual eyes softly glowing but you do nothing but dismiss it, and then ends up shrugging, "Alright. I won't force you, of course. Just..."

She turns her head, "You never know, maybe getting into the water will turn out to be your final step."

..And as she walks off into the ocean, you don't even notice yourself taking off your shoes and chasing her after a beat until--

"Wait!"

She turns around, an eyebrow raised and a gentle half smile on her lips, "Yes?"

You stop just short of her, "Fine, I'll.. I'll go. With you. But you're not letting me go. I know how to swim but it's dark. So."

"Of course not," she reassures you, "I sought you out, after all."

"Huh?"

You don't get a chance to react, not when she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the water.

You don't get a chance to react, not when the both of you submerge yourselves and you are thrown back to that very night at the sight of clustered scales on pale skin.

..Or maybe you can't react at all, not when water starts clogging up your lungs and your consciousness sung to sleep.

...

You woke up coughing your lungs out, sore and very much still full of saltwater.

You woke up alone on the shore, probably for the first time since Kokomi had decided to come up and startle you enough to ruin your focus.

And you got up and ran.

You don't tell anyone, because the only person who would have ever believed you turned out to be someone you wish you hallucinated.

(Never felt so lonely like this in so long, like you don't have a purpose--)

You don't visit the beach for a while. And when you do, you wish you hadn't.

Not when you see a crumpled piece of paper—your scrapped mistake—on the spot the both of you had always occupied at night.

Not when you see the scribbled-out 'thank you' on the back of the page.

Not when you spot that same visage at night all over again, yet with the tainted memory of your near-death and of the brief company that you kept.

And certainly not when she looked at you with those shimmering blue eyes, her claws clear of any sort of metallic red, before she looked away and disappeared into the ocean depths.

(Though you end up finishing what could have been your magnum opus forged from looking at death in the eye all those many nights, you voluntarily put a line across the page and close your sketchbook.)

(You don't end up opening it anymore, not when you feel disjointed.)

(Incomplete.)

[gamerwoo]

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits (Part Two)

(photo edit courtesy of @songmingki​)

Characters: Mingi x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, friends to lovers au, angst but not like hard angst it’s kinda mild tbh, lil bit of fluff

Word count: 1,913

Summary: Growing up, you and Mingi were inseparable. You’d been friends your entire life and, as far as you knew, things were never any different. But what you don’t know is that Mingi imprinted on you when he was 15 and first turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep it a secret ever since. And with the awful timing of mating season, he’s hoping he can somehow keep the facade up.

Tags: @sakura-uji​ @xummie​ @peachy-hoon​ @psshwa​ @uglyratlmao​ @uwu-yifan​

Previous | Next | Friends with Benefits Masterlist

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and San had come home from classes together, walking through the front door as the two older boys scolded San about his grades. They walked down the hall and past the living room where you and Mingi were sitting on the couch, watching TV. One of your legs was flung over the arm of the couch as you leaned into Mingi, while your best friend was simply sitting straight beside you, keeping his eyes trained on the TV. You saw out of the corner of your eye the three boys barely glance over at you as the kept walking out of sight, before backing up and looking into the living room at the scene.

“What is he doing?” San whispered loud enough for his friends to hear -- they could hear way better than you thanks to their sharp senses -- but quiet enough that you didn’t hear a thing.

“Being a fucking moron,” Seonghwa replied.

You turned your head to look at the audience you now had, “Can I help you?”

Mingi’s eyes had flickered from where he was trying so hard to concentrate on the show, to his brothers. They could hear how fast his heart was beating and see the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the way his hands clenched on his thighs, and the way he was basically straining himself to sit still.

Mating season was starting soon for him.

“Uh..._____,” Hongjoong stepped forward with his usual sweet smile, “do you wanna play some soccer in the backyard? I have some extra energy I need to burn.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” you grinned as you jumped up from your spot on the couch. You looked down at your best friend, “Mingi, you wanna ref?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he told you, trying to come across as completely normal.

But there was something off about him.

Still, you shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Then you followed Hongjoong out to the backyard.

As soon as you were gone, Seonghwa marched up to Mingi, grabbing the younger boy by his shirt and pulling him to his feet. Despite having height on the older boy, Seonghwa wasn’t afraid because he knew he had authority over Mingi.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Seonghwa demanded.

“Yes,” San answered for him with a nod.

This definitely wasn’t the first time Mingi had to go through rut and not let you know. But it seemed this time for some reason, he was being a little too bold for the pack’s liking. It was clear he was having some difficulty being so close to you -- thank god mating season hadn’t actually started for him or there would’ve been nothing to keep him from pouncing on you -- and that was just because he was so close to mating season starting. He definitely had balls to hang out with you alone so close to that time of year where he had to be away from you.

“Hwa, I was fine!” Mingi insisted, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You didn’t look fine,” San interjected, Mingi shooting him a glare to keep out of this.

“What if you hurt her, huh?” Seonghwa demanded. “What if you couldn’t fight the instinct? What if you did something bad to her?”

Mingi whined, “I wasn’t going to!”

“But you could’ve,” Seonghwa stated, giving Mingi a solid shake. “You can’t just act fine and then everything is fine. You can’t pull that shit this close to mating season.”

Seonghwa finally let the younger wolf go, and he frowned as he straightened out his shirt, “What are you, the alpha?”

“No,” Seonghwa offered him a tight smile, “but I know Joong is going to have a lot to say to you, too.”

-

Even though Hongoong never really had to deal with mates before -- even though he’d known you for a few years now but you weren’t properly Mingi’s mate -- he knew it was in his best interest to keep you safe rather than go deal with Mingi. That was why he chose to remove you from the situation and let Seonghwa deal with the younger wolf who clearly had some sort of lapse in judgement. Hongjoong definitely understood that Mingi had to act normally to keep their secret from you, but he didn’t need to take it that far. He should’ve just not invited you over.

“How many wins is that?” you chuckled as you lightly kicked the ball between your feet, quickly an eyebrow at Hongjoong.

He laughed, shaking his head, “Look, you did this for seven years. I’ve only casually played since I met you.”

“Yeah, you launched the ball straight into Wooyoung’s head the first day I met you,” you recalled with a loud laugh.

“But I’ve gotten better at not doing that,” he said proudly, spreading out in the goal to -- hopefully -- catch the ball.

Before you could even swing your leg back to kick the ball, the door opened and San shouted, “Hey!”

The two of you looked over, you lifting your baseball cap to run a hand through your hair before putting it back on your head as you squinted against the sun to see San in the doorway.

“Mingi wanted me to tell you he isn’t feeling well,” San called. “We brought him upstairs to bed but you probably shouldn’t bother him.”

You frowned with a sigh, nodding your head, “Yeah, alright. Thanks, San.”

Even though he could hear the slight disappointment in your voice, San nodded and went back inside.

“You okay?” Hongjoong wondered, resting his stance.

You let out air between your lips, your lips flapping like a horse for a few seconds as you tried to gather your thoughts, “Mingi always has something going on where he just disappears like, twice a year. He has since he ran away our freshman year of high school. I kind of expected it to happen again but it like, always happens. I dunno, I’m just worried, I guess.”

Hongjoong frowned. He knew you cared about Mingi, and he should’ve figured you would catch onto it after a while. He used to always use the fact he was ‘sick’ as an excuse, but he had to get more creative when you begged him to see a doctor his senior year since he was always getting really sick twice a year. It then became ‘I’m a counselor at a week-long sleepaway camp’ or ‘I’m going skiing with my friends’ or things like that. Anything where he could avoid you for about a week until he was feeling normal again. Because if you were around him while he was in rut, he would have zero self control and would pin you against anything and go crazy. That was the last thing any of them wanted.

“He’s just...” Hongjoong trails off as his eyes find Mingi’s window from the backyard, though the blinds are pulled shut so neither of you can see inside.

But Hongjoong already knows that Seonghwa has probably dragged him up to his bedroom and ordered him to stay there until the alpha comes in to scold him for being so careless with you. But he also knows staying away from your mate is difficult -- not that he knows personally but he’s heard.

And Hongjoong never finishes his sentence because honestly, he’s not really sure what to say.

-

You finish your game of soccer with Hongjoong early because you decide you’re not really in the mood to play anymore. You’re not really an emotional kind of person, but anyone can tell you’re bummed out because of Mingi. You know things will go back to normal after a week, but you just wish you understood why this pattern kept happening. What happened to Mingi when he ran away?

Honestly, your best bet was that he joined a cult.

As you were leaving the house, Jongho was getting out of his car, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He smiled at you as you passed by him to get to your car.

“Mingi’s girlfriend leaving so soon?” he joked -- well, as far as you knew.

Did you feel a little different toward Mingi ever since he came back freshman year, yes? You kind of thought maybe it was because you were afraid of losing him again, but it had stuck around until college, and that was a little weird to you. Still, you never said anything to him because you two had been best friends since you were babies. The two of you were voted ‘best partners in crime’ and ‘should’ve dated’ -- the latter was a little awkward since you were dating someone else at the time -- when you were seniors because of how close you were. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship because you were pretty sure he didn’t feel the same. He probably saw you as a sister. So you left things alone.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a playful smile, “Eat a dick, dude.”

His friends often teased you for being his ‘girlfriend’, and Mingi typically responded in the same fashion. But the teasing continued because his friends knew that while it embarrassed Mingi, it was the only way they could hint at how he felt about you.

“Why’re you leaving?” Jongho asked, turning around to keep talking to you. “You usually stay longer.”

You looked over your shoulder, this time rolling your eyes in a less playful way, “Mingi’s sick.”

“...Oh,” he nodded, already understanding the situation. “Well, uh, we could hang out tomorrow after classes if you want? Maybe go get slushies at the gas station or something?”

Even though Mingi’s friends would never replace him, they had become your friends since you were around them so often. And whenever Mingi was away, they always offered to do things with you like go to the arcade or get pizza at the beach or something. 

You shrugged, unlocking your car and opening the door, “We’ll see.”

After waving a quick goodbye, Jongho went into the house. He could hear Hongjoong raising his voice a little at Mingi from outside, but he had drowned it out so he could converse with you. But now that he was inside and saw Seonghwa and San sitting on the couch watching the show that you and Mingi had left on, he was more intrigued.

“Mingi started mating season already?” he wondered.

From upstairs, he heard the wolf in question reply, “I did not!”

“You’re too close to it to have _____ around,” Hongjoong reminded him, his voice also traveling from upstairs.

It was true, it was supposed to start really soon. Nobody could ever place the exact day, but they kept track of around what times in the year it happened. It was like having your period but minus the blood -- for males, anyway -- and with a lot more sexual aggression.

“So the excuse this time is that he’s sick?” Jongho asked before adding on, “Again?”

“What did you want me to say?” Seonghwa asked. “They were sitting on the couch together so it was the only thing that made sense. I couldn’t say he suddenly went off on vacation, now could I?”

“We always keep _____ away from the house, anyway,” San shrugged, waving the problem away. “It’ll be fine. She never questions it, anyway.”

“She will question it eventually,” Seonghwa pointed out. “We can’t keep this up forever, and neither can Mingi.”