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justpoliteconversations · 7 months ago

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Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 6)

Plans are being made. And Link is facing his demons as well as he can.

Still taking time to inch my way back to full speed. Things are getting better though and I can feel my fingers itching to write more and more. Still riding the joy of pure indulgence with a feel good favorite. I can never stop myself from rambling in this one.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

Finally back in Hateno after several weeks of long, uncomfortable (sand infested. lizalfos infested) travel along the coast (doing your standard business. gathering what supplies you could for Link), and you were ready to just slip into bed for the rest of your life. Maybe even retire early. Ensure you never have to see another damned lizalfos for as long as you live (you won't, but the thought is there).

But it was simply not to be. You'd barely crossed the gates into Hateno proper and already you were planning (reluctantly) an even longer trip into territories you'd never (well. not never. but not for long) thought to venture to. And honestly, you weren't looking forward to it.

And by the look on Skim's and Adino's faces, neither were they.

Not even a day after returning to your home village you'd broken the news to your guards that you were planning a trip towards Goron territory. Though, if you were lucky and utilized your resources wisely, you might never even have to set foot in that brimstone hellscape of a volcano (you hoped).

You'd thought once (some years ago), that maybe it would be a place you should visit. The Gorons were known to be friendly to travelers. The paths were littered with unclaimed mineral and gemstone deposits. And the infrastructure for travel was there thanks to the thriving tourism industry in the area.

It'd seemed like a wonderful idea when you'd started planning such a venture in your early days of merchanting. Back when you were still riding high from making your first small fortune and were still relatively unaware of the world at large. Of its challenges. Of its dangers.

That was until you started gathering information on the hazards in the area, and your opinion of the region took an immediate and drastic turn.

The high death rates associated with heatstroke, dehydration and smoke inhalation were concerning enough. But learning that the volcano occasionally erupted (killing dozens, even hundreds of travelers when it did), and was infested with talus' (over 40 confirmed sightings. nearly 20 unconfirmed). It was enough to put you off.

Skims and Adino knew this. You'd made it a point to explain to them why you wouldn't be heading that direction ever (but apparently not ever, because here you were. planning). No matter how much money could be made harvesting minerals or trading with the locals.

Not the produce trade though, despite what one would think coming from a land known for its lava lakes and frequent wildfires.

The volcanic soil was actually an excellent source of fertilizer (which you wanted. in bulk. as much as you could shove in your mindslate). Making the region around the volcano one of the more prosperous lands for growing crops and herbs. Even when compared to the more central settlements of Hyrule, right on the bread-belt of the land (if you were willing to risk the guardians, that is).

It was a region a farmer (and merchant) could make a fortune, if they were lucky enough to hit brown gold. And if one was willing to take staggering losses everytime the volcano blew its top. And there would be losses. There always was when mother nature got involved with the lives of mortals.

No. You had been eager to get into the fish and cloth (and sand) trade. So close to the volcano, magma deposits were unusually close to the surface in the surrounding lands. And while this created the most beautiful hotspring (entire lakes worth) tourist attractions, it also limited the amount of life-sustaining (and fish-sustaining) water sources in the area. Which, in turn, limited the number of local fisheries and livestock flocks the land could sustain.

The constant presence of ash and volcanic runoff also poisoned much of the water sources in the immediate areas around the mountian. Further adding to the lack of available water sources for fish and livestock (and people too, for that matter. Hence, the sand. A natural filtering agent for locals in the area) to live off of.

So. Fish and cloth (and sand). Those had been your plan a couple years ago. Until the reality of the territory's dangers made you reconsider. And later, dismiss the idea all together.

Knowing this, of course Skims questioned your sudden interest in the northeastern part of Hyrule. A territory you had said yourself was not worth the risk of death and revenue loss to expand your business ventures into.

You had been honest with them, of course (you were always honest with your most trusted guardsmen. when confronted, at least). Though not necessarily forthcoming with the details. Which, frankly, was par for the course as far as your more private dealings were concerned.

"I'm looking to acquire localized goods for an important client." You offered in way of an explanation, letting the things you hadn't said speak volumes. And, of course, Skims merely nodded. Still looking doubtful, but willing to accept your reasoning as your own without contest.

That was another thing you liked about him, other then his fierce loyalty and care. Easy going at the best of times, accepting at the worst. You never had to worry too much about Skims poking holes in your reasonings or explanations. You just needed to pay him, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to your eccentricities.

Adino, on the other hand.

"It's a waste of damned time no matter how important this so-called client of yours is. Just use the stable system instead of draggin' us along to that Goddess forsaken hellhole." Adino snapped, irritable still so soon after the previous trip (the bite a lizalfos nearly took out of his rear near Highland Stable not having helped his already sour attitude). Narrowing his eyes at you with suspicion.

Which was fair, honestly. In any other situation, letting the stable system deliver your desired product would have been the most efficient (and cheapest) way for such a limited and precise order. What would take several months of travel for a merchant (yourself included), the system could get delivered several weeks earlier. Maybe the same amount of time, or slightly longer than originally calculated, if the weather turned unfavorable or a blood moon cluttered up previously clear roads with monsters.

Without knowledge of your mindslate or the connection you have with Link (the previously mentioned client), it does sound like a bullshit reason to undertake such a dangerous journey out of the blue. Especially when there are safer and more cost efficient methods to achieve the same results (sort of). But the fact of the matter is that the system would not be quick enough to deliver your order before Link begun his journey towards Death Mountain.

(And it would be soon. Already there were rumors of the Zora Domain's endless rains easing at the boarders.)

Tally up the timeables, and getting the merchandise yourself was the only feasible way to get ahold of what you needed when you needed it. Where the stable system would require a two way trip to acquire your goods, you needed only one way to get it yourself (and add the slate's instant delivery to Link, and you're set). It was the only way to guarantee you'd meet the rapidly approaching deadline.

Also, you didn't trust the stable system to be as discerning as yourself when choosing suitable product. While you didn't doubt they would put forth their best efforts, you acknowledged that a delivery guild probably had limited knowledge of advanced spell craft and their associated counterfeits.

You couldn't afford to make any mistakes when it was The Hero of Hyrule's life you were working to secure.

Only the very best would do for Link, after all. Even if you had to put in the footwork to ensure it.

You smiled tiredly at Adino, noting how his thin brows were pulled into a deep frow. How his eyes flickered over your road-weary face and sagging posture with veiled intent. Searching and prying and worried. Lips pulled down in displeasure.

He was worried for you. Keeping secrets (something you'd seldom done so openly before. something you'd rarely done, period). Taking seemingly unnecessary risks (something you'd never done at all before this little proposal). All behaviors that were definite red flags. All behaviors that were concerning. Especially coming from someone like you (who you'd become).

And you loved that about Adino. How quietly observant and caring he was when he cared enough to try. Even if he acted like a prickly little cactus most of the time.

"Trust me. I wish I could just let the stables handle this." You'd begun, meeting Adino's (and Skims) gazes as you continued. Sighing. "But this is something I have to do myself. It's important to me."

Skims nodded, having already accepted your reasonings regardless. And slowly, reluctantly, Adino nodded too. Still looking as surly as ever, but willing to back down quietly so long as you were in possession enough of your thoughts to acknowledge the strangeness of your current plans.

"Thank you." And you meant that. Even as the next words hurt your very soul. Perhaps even more than the damned sand (yeah right). "I'll pay you triple if you agree to accompany me as my bodyguards." Skims' and Adino's eyes lit up at that, and you could practically see the rupee signs swimming within them. The bastards.

And somehow Red was suddenly there as well, looking just as bright-eyed and eager as she nodded along with the boys.

Your brow twitched. And Red grinned. Far too many teeth caged within blood red lips.

You sighed.

'Damnit, Link. Why do you cost me so much money.'

---

Sitting on the edge of the Zora Capital's Central Reservoir, Link held the slate in his cold-numbed hands. Looking out over the misty landscape laid out far below, cushioning the shining zora city in its translucent shroud.

The divine beast calmed at his back, as was the spirit still trapped within its confines (patient. kind. understanding. even in the face of death and heartbreak).

His fingers tightened on the slate's smooth edges at the reminder. Knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip. The chilled ache of his bones a painful burn against his exposed flesh and skin.

His shoulders begun to shake. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, with his own pillow and his own blankets. He wanted to bathe in his shiny round bowl of a bath with his nice smelling soaps and hair cleansers.

He wanted to go home.

He was afraid to go home.

But no. That wasn't true. Not really. It wasn't that he was afraid to go home (to his home. to your home).

It was that he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had lost. Ashamed of how he had failed.

Seeing Mipha's face (and that was her name. Mipha. the zora woman he may have once loved. not some nameless face peering out of her tomb with sad, accepting eyes) had finally made him understand the weight he carried upon his shoulders now. The burden of his past failings.

And he didn't know how to reconcile these feelings. Of who he was, and the pain he'd left in the wake of his death.

And who he was now, and his inability to grieve these people who had once meant so much to him. And who, in some ways, still did. Even if he couldn't remember why he felt as such. Even as the guilt tore him apart at the seams.

Far below, in the dark waters of the Domain's endless web of rivers. The flashing white of paper slips beneath a rising current. The ink fading into the darkness of the depths.

---

AM,

Thank you for everything you've done for me. Without you, I don't know if I'd have the strength to continue on. Knowing so much has been lost because of my failure.

I'm afraid of what I'll find if I remember who I used to be. I don't think I can be the man so many remember.

I don't want to be him. He's dead. I'm not him anymore. I'm me.

Is it selfish of me to just want to be the man I am now?

I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you and everyone who ever believed in me. I'm sorry I don't want to remember how to be strong.

I hope one day you can forgive me.

-Link

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

I forgot the tags before sleeping! Sorry Babies, I know you already found it, but I'll still tag you regardless!

Tagging: @littlepanda7 @2000babies

#botw x reader #link x reader #botw link #isekai reader #link x you

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kkami-writes · 1 year ago

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waiting for us — chapter thirty seven. laser tag cw. derogatory language/slurs. wc 701 + 4 ss a/n. I do want to be clear that I am part of the lgbt+ community and have been called these things which of course isn't like? an excuse to say that like I can say it? though I think people should be able to reclaim their slurs but. ANYWAY the point is, I have censored it but if it makes people uncomfy, I can fully censor!!

After Felix had stopped pouting he had showered you in compliments, genuinely impressed at how you were able to get the plushy in two tries. He pretends to bow down to you.

“All hail the claw queen!!!!” You snort at his silliness before trying to pull him up, hoping no one was watching the two of you.

“Oh my god, stop it!! Lix!”

“What?? I’m just giving my respects to my new queen,” Your eyes roll playfully, nudging him softly.

“So, what should we name our son?” You question as you point to the duckling plushy he was holding. Honestly? It reminded you of the pretty boy.

Felix on the other hand was absolutely melting on the inside. The fact that you had called the plush “our” son. Why were you so adorable? He could feel himself falling more in love with you, every second he spent with you.

He clears his throat. “What about bbokari?”

“As in…yongbokkie?” A sly grin tugs at your lips.

Felix groans. “Who told you??!”

A giggle falls from your lips. “Minho let it slip,”

“Minho??? I expected Jisung or Hyunjin at least. They have big mouths. In more ways than one” Pink dusts your cheeks as you push the boy who only laughs at your shyness.

“Bbokari is cute though. I love it,” Felix just gives you that breathtaking smile.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, pointing over towards the back of the arcade. “Look, they have laser tag. You down for a round?”

“It’s been forever since I’ve played. I’m down,” You nod, the two of you starting to make your way over there.

“Shall we make a wager?” You squint at Felix.

“What kind of wager?”

“Loser buys ice cream?”

“Oh you are SO on,”

And that’s how you find yourself in the dark arena, neon lights lining the floor as your only source of light. You were slightly directionally challenged so the maze like turns has made you very lost but you were still on guard, making sure to stay far away from Felix. It was just the two of you, trying to hunt each other down, taking your bet very seriously.

You’re hidden behind a wall, peaking your head out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his now raven hair. When the coast is clear you take a step to move to a new location, but a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back, pushing you up against the wall. Even though you were only a few inches shorter than the boy, you had felt so small under his gaze. Felilx has his hand slightly above your head, effectively caging you in.

He smirks down at you and you hate how attractive he looks under the neon lights.

“Well, well, well. Seems I’ve caught myself a pretty girl,” He hums, hand coming down to twirl a strand of your hair around his fingers. Felix’s grin becomes more cocky, canines peaking past his lips. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,”

“Because I’m cute?”

“Hmm, that is a good answer…but is it good enough?” He pretends to think about it, but you take the chance while he’s momentarily distracted. You lean up to press your lips to his and Felix completely freezes, eyes comically wide. Before he can even consider kissing you back you’re tilting your gun, that’s been in your other hand, up so you can shoot him. His vest vibrates to signal that he’s been hit.

“Bye, bye~” You singsong before ducking under his arm and running away. This finally seems to pull him out of his stupor as he yells out after you.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait!! At least let me kiss you back!” Felix wails, chasing after you.

In the end Felix still wins but refuses to let you pay for ice cream and doesn’t give you a chance to argue.

The poor boy has been pouting the whole time about not being able to kiss you until you had let him actually kiss you. And perhaps that lead to the two of you making out in the backseat of his car.

But, you’d never kiss and tell. (But Felix certainly did).

previous | masterlist | next waiting for us taglist (50/50) send an ask or sign up here!: @abbiestearsricochet @boo-ven9eance @adorawritesalot @melleus @inlovewithallmusic @alnex05 @borahae-reads @zonked-times @yoonrimin @slay-and-gay @loverlixie @katsukis1wife @0325tiny @adestayskz @minhwa @littleaprilcherryblossom @soobery @lillithathecat @everglowdaisies @boi-bi-ahaha @popcatx0 @stayinhellevator @jaiuneamesolitaiire @enchantedgrunge @corrodedthorn @143lix @ashitshowforalot @xrvrqs @lynlyndoll @txtandroll @kawennote09 @liknws @ritzy-dream-boy @vampcharxter @jisuperboard @surefornext @puppy-minnie @freckleboilix @imwithurmother @turtledove824 @fylithia @toshijimafarms @hyunestrella @blackrowses @chlodavids @reallysparklychaos @peachbokkie @irantoyouwithoutthinking @sunnibearr @chili-crab0811

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writeforfandoms · 6 months ago

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Fast Car 1

Find my Ghost masterlist

My second submission for the Ghost Challenge hosted by @glitterypirateduck

You can't believe your luck when you find what looks like a functional car, an excellent way to repair your own car. Turns out you were right not to trust your luck. The truck has owners, and those owners are not happy to find you rummaging around. Oops?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

For this one, I used a few different prompts through the whole fic - have fun finding each of them! #'s 3, 9, 14, 18, 27

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, light violence, swearing, zombie au, mention of cannibals.

You slowed when you spotted the truck. The truck itself wasn't that unusual - they existed aplenty out here in the country, away from the remains of civilization.

But this one had fresh tire tracks behind it, the ground still a little soft with the rains from last night.

You hadn't seen a working vehicle in… months. Maybe a year.

Of course, you could have a working vehicle of you could find a replacement part.

Maybe you'd take a look. Real quiet and sneaky like. Just a little look. Just in case you could find a complementary part.

You weren't stupid, though. You looked around carefully, checked the footprints around the truck. Checked for any movement. Listened hard too.

But there was nothing. Whoever had come in the truck was long gone, but could be back any time. If you wanted to try grabbing the part, the time was now.

The doors were unlocked, half luck and half the times. No need to lock the doors when there was nobody around to rob you blind. It was easy to pop the hood. One more look around showed that the coast was still clear.

So you pushed the hood open to investigate, humming to yourself.

“You need a tune up,” you muttered to the truck with sympathy. “I can tell. Too bad I'm not sticking around to help.”

You patted the headlight but continued to look. You needed to hurry up now.

You spied what you needed and smiled. Close enough to work.

“Hey!”

The shout made you jump and very nearly bang your head on the hood, and you jerked around to spot someone walking towards the truck quickly, long strides eating up the distance.

You took off. No way you were sticking around to get in an argument with the owner. Or skip straight to getting killed.

You didn't get very far before someone grabbed your arm, nearly wrenching it with the force of his yank. You yelped, the sudden pain startling, and swung around with his pull.

The man was huge, not just tall but broad. Dark makeup smeared around his eyes made him even more imposing.

“Let go!” You kicked out at him, clumsy but determined.

He moved out of the way easily, not even shifting his grip. One more tug sent you off-balance, and he twisted your arm behind you and up, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Stop struggling.” The rough words made you pause, swallowing hard against the noise of pain that wanted to escape.

The one approaching the two of you seemed in less of a hurry now that you were subdued, adjusting his hat as he eyed the two of you. Mainly you, probably. You narrowed your eyes at him, tempted to bare your teeth.

“What were you doing, eh?” He stopped, one hand planted on his hip, the other holding his gun.

Well. You'd survived two years of fucking zombies and zealots and shit, only to get killed because of a car. Seemed fitting.

“Looking for a snack,” you drawled, wincing when the man behind you tugged your arm a little higher.

The hatted one eyed you, shrewd and cold, calculating. A sudden, terrible thought made you swallow hard.

“Promise I'm not a good snack, though,” you said, going up onto your toes to try to alleviate some of the ache in your arm and shoulder. “Definitely not edible.”

The man in front of you blinked, apparently caught off guard.

“You sayin’ you've run into cannibals?” The man behind you asked, incredulous. His grip didn't waver.

“Well, I ran away from them,” you pointed out, very reasonably. “Does that mean you're not interested in eating me?”

“Not even close.” The one in front of you snorted, stepping closer so he could look down at you. “Why were you poking around in the car?”

“Looking for kittens,” you snarked, even as pain tightened your voice. “They like warm spots, you know.”

You yelped as your arm wrenched higher, shoulder straining against the pressure. Tears sprang to your eyes, unbidden and unwanted.

“Got any friends hiding out?” The hatted one didn't change his tone, still watching you.

Sure, you could keep mouthing off. But your shoulder ached now, and you were worried they'd dislocate it and then leave you. That would be a death sentence, just a slow one.

“No,” you grumbled, head dropping. “It's just me. Just been me for a while.”

To your surprise, the man behind you dropped your arm and stepped back. You stumbled from the sudden release, quickly pulling your arm in to your chest. The throbbing hadn't stopped yet, but at least it didn't hurt so badly.

“What did you do to the car?” Though there was no visible change to the two men, you didn't doubt they'd grab you again if needed. Being released was a reward for honesty, leaving you with a choice to make.

“Nothing.” Sulking just a little, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was looking for a part, but I didn't get a chance to grab it. The car is fine.”

“Hm.” He tipped his head, studying you more closely now. “You a mechanic?”

“I was,” you said, a little wry. “Not much to work on anymore, with most of my customers dead or worse.”

The big guy made a soft noise of amusement. You eyed him for a moment before returning your focus to the hatted man.

He nodded once, slowly, gaze still focused on you. “Looking for somewhere to settle, then?”

You shrugged, feeling a little squirrelly now. “Haven't decided.”

“Tell you what.” He shifted his weight forward, arms crossing over his chest. “We've got a safe place. A town.”

“Do you?” You didn't bother to keep the skepticism from your voice, even as you rocked back on your heels. “Heard that one before.”

“If you're really a mechanic, you're welcome in town.” He continued as if you hadn't spoken. “Your choice. Think about it. If you want to come with, meet us there.” He nodded at the decrepit gas station not far from where you all stood. “Tomorrow morning, an hour after sunrise.”

You eyed him suspiciously. It could be a trick still, a way to get you to lower your guard. It could also be legit. Maybe. Possibly. The chance was very low… but not zero.

Neither of them moved when you took a careful step back, then another.

“Tomorrow morning,” the one reminded you, gaze fixed on you still, far too intense for your liking.

“I'll think about it.” You hadn't really meant to say that, but, well… oh well. You backed away to a safe distance before you turned and walked away.

You listened for footsteps behind you, and took the long route back to where you'd stashed your things for the day. You even paused multiple times to check behind you and around you.

And not just to check for zombies, either.

You didn't trust them, not even a little. The ache in your shoulder hadn't gone away yet, either.

But… if they were telling the truth… Safety was the rarest commodity nowadays.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd mentioned running away from cannibals.

You settled back in a corner, pack held between your knees as you rummaged around for something to eat. You couldn't lie, the idea of somewhere safe to stay, at least for a while, was tempting.

If you went, it sounded like you'd be stuck in the car with the big guy who'd grabbed you. Eh. You'd just not sit next to him, and undoubtedly once you were in town, it would be easy to avoid him. You didn't have to like him, just tolerate him enough to get in.

And then avoid him like… Well, like a zombie.

You snickered at your own humor.

Mind more or less made up, you settled in to have your dinner and rest for the night. You'd already blockaded yourself in pretty well. No zombies were getting in while you slept.

And tomorrow you'd see if they really had a safe town.

#ghostchallenge #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #zombie au

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celestiarambles · 5 months ago

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Hi this may divert from my usual content, but as someone with a platform like this I need to speak up about this.

The Philippines-China maritime dispute has been going on for years now, but lately the tensions had been getting more and more worse to the point it’s super concerning now.

Here’s a bit of a history lesson: China claims that the West Philippine Sea is theirs because of the nine-dash line, but the Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague ruled in 2016 that that had no basis under international law. Other than that, the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) said that China’s historic rights on the territory no longer exists. So basically, the West Philippine Sea belongs to the Philippines.

However, China rejects that decision. They have harassed, intimidated, and even used armed conflict on our vessels. China Coast Guard (CCG) vessels had even used a water cannon against our ships TWICE, in which one incident resulted to getting seven Navy personnel wounded.

Worse, there are also allegations of a spy being planted here. Alice Guo, one of the mayors in Tarlac (a city in the Philippines) had mysteriously risen to power despite having no prior experience or connections whatsoever. Literally no one even knew her in her town. She just claims to live in a simple farm. However, she owns a luxury sports car and a helicopter. And somehow, everything regarding her past is inconsistent; she doesn’t know what her mother’s name was, who she grew up with, no school documents, hell she didn’t even have a birth certificate up until she was 17 years old. This was all brought up because she was involved in the criminal activities (like human trafficking, scams, etc.) of the Philippine Offshore Gaming Operator (POGO) which also has the Chinese involved.

The US has also been taking advantage of the situation by deploying 9 EDCA sites (military bases) for a supposed military pact, but former US Marine Intelligence Officer Scott Ritter has admitted to using the Philippines as a tool to gain leverage over the Chinese.

What has our government done regarding this dispute? They’re too busy infighting to focus on the bigger picture and on how to settle on an agreement with China.

I just want to take the time to speak up and make people more aware about the ongoing dispute. I know that this has been going on for several years now, but my memory and knowledge about the topic may be a bit wonky so I apologize in advance if I had said anything wrong. You can add more information regarding this or correct the information that I've given if I phrased things wrong.

Regardless, I do know one thing: the West Philippine Sea is ours.

Sources:

https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/south-china-sea-why-are-china-philippines-tensions-heating-up-2024-04-11/

https://www.youtube.com/live/aOrmFJXyAVI?si=P9rPJkJM6BF0NIbW (check 1:57:00)

#philippines #west philippine sea #ATIN ANG WEST PHILIPPINE SEA!!#boost

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 months ago

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Over the edge

(*Scrolls through drafts* ... oh right, there was something. Have more phantom thief, I guess.)

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, February 2024 edition

Rated: T

Prompt: edge, 509 words

Tags: Fantasy AU, Magic AU, Guard!Steve, Thief!Eddie, Jail Break

Notes: Part 1 | Part 2

Eddie never regretted becoming a criminal.

You don't watch the high and mighty hoard all the magic still left in the world, feeding their twisted hunger for power, without growing to resent them.

Even when they captured him, when they locked him away in this prison under the sea, he never once wished he had chosen differently.

The only regret he had here in the dark was that he'd never see Steve's face again.

And now Steve is here. Steve is unlocking his shackles and pulling him along dark corridors, up towards the light, and Eddie still thinks this may be a dream.

When they reach the surface, he faintly registers the wind in his hair, the salt on his skin, the moon in the sky, but all he can see as they stumble towards the edge is Steve. The sea gapes under them, black and endless.

“How are we getting to land? We'll never-”

Something is pressed into his hand. A pouch on a leather string, filled with something heavy and sharp-edged.

“Think you're the only one who knows how to get their hands on magic artifacts?” Steve grins, brandishing a pouch of his own. “Crystals. For warmth and navigation. I have a boat waiting out by the coast, we just gotta-”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes. “You really are perfect, huh?”

Steve falters, blushes adorably, and-

-an arrow comes flying out of the dark. It pierces the pouch in Eddie’s hands, ripping it from his hold. The sound of the waves swallowing it is lost over the roar of voices.

“There they are, seize them!”

Eddie's heart kicks in his chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is bad, this is so fucking-

“Eddie.”

Steve cups his jaw in both hands, turns him so that he must look at his face rather than the guards rushing their way. There is a weird, determined calm in those pretty eyes of his.

“You said you're the best around,” Steve says, fingers ghosting over his cheekbones. The footsteps are coming closer. “Don't look at them, look at me. You said that you can break into any place, steal anything. Was that true or just one of your boasts?”

Eddie huffs, irritation rearing its head.

“Of course that's true, what are you even-”

“Good,” Steve smiles, and kisses him. Eddie’s world grows soft around the edges, everything narrowing down to Steve's hands in his hair, Steve's lips against his, Steve, Steve, Steve. It's why he doesn’t realize how Steve walks them closer to the edge. “Then prove it.”

He gives the leather pouch one last tug … the last remaining pouch that he has just slipped around Eddie’s neck.

Eddie's stomach drops.

“Stevie, no-”

“I'm sorry,” Steve says, and pushes him over the edge.

Eddie’s world tilts.

The wind rips at his clothes and gravity pulls him down, clawing his scream from his lips.

The last thing he sees is Steve's face, alight with grim satisfaction as the guards tackle him to the ground.

Then the waves swallow him and everything turns dark.

⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️

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melancholicmelanin · 13 days ago

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Compress/Repress | Chapter 2: Sister, Sister

Pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

Summary: As the summer of 06' winds down, Maya is anxiously prepping for a secret adventure: flying to New York to watch her half-sister Tashi compete at the Junior US Open. The only problem? She’s doing it behind her grandparents’ backs.

Word Count: 5k

Warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

masterlist | prev | next | wattpad | AO3

BEL-AIR, CALIFORNIA – August 30, 2006

“Look, you’ve already got the plane tickets, right? And you’ve figured out how to get to LAX. You’re halfway there!” Tashi exclaimed. Her tone was light-hearted, like the gravity of the situation was no big deal, as if sneaking across the country wasn’t an act that could land Winston Pratt in the hospital.

It had been a year since they’d made their first connection—one impulsive friend request that had led to a secret sisterhood neither of them had anticipated. An outsider looking in would deduce them as a close-knit pair of sisters. Heck, maybe long-time best friends even. Now, they spoke almost every day—through texts, phone calls and sometimes in person, always careful to keep their connection hidden from their respective families.

Maya let out a low, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. Like she was failing at convincing Tashi to change her mind and ditch the plan altogether. Her heart raced as she listened to Tashi’s voice echo through the receiver. Maya’s heart raced as she took in her sister’s words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling beneath her tummy.

“I know, I know.” Maya said as she paced between the four pastel walls of her room, her Paul Frank slippers gliding against the plush white rug.

“I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. Like what if I get human trafficked at the airport and the kidnappers want ransom. They’d freak!” She exclaimed, dramatically tossing her arms in the air.

“Oh my god, M!” Tashi blurted out, sounding both exasperated and amused at her sister’s active imagination. When her guard was down, Maya Pratt-Duncan’s true form always showed, she was an anxious nervous reck at the end of the day.

Maya shut her eyes and clutched her phone out of embarrassment as she heard Tashi's befuddled voice coming through on the other end. Despite being miles apart, she could almost see the jokes forming in Tashi’s mind.

“You watch too many movies,” Tashi quipped, trying to ease Maya's worries.

“They’re not going to find out,” She explained further, firm and unbothered, the usual confidence Maya admired in her spilling into every word. “You’ve got everything under control. This is our moment. And I want you there when I win.”

Maya made her way towards her bed, her suitcase laid bare on top as she prepared for tomorrow's flight. She carefully checked and rechecked all her belongings, her nerves still prickling despite Tashi's reassurance.

The thought of seeing her half-sister for the first time in action—on the court, in her element—made her heart flutter. But the idea of lying to her grandparents, Tabitha and Winston, weighed on her heavily. They had raised her, protected her, and shielded her from so much of the world. And now, here she was, planning to deceive them.

Maya's voice was soft and hushed, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips as she spoke. "I know you're going to win," she said, her words filled with admiration and confidence. "But...I've never done anything like this before, you know."

Tashi's laughter came through the other end of the phone, light and teasing. "Oh, come on, Maya. You're going to be just fine."

Maya couldn't help but bite her lip, a habit her grandmother couldn’t stand. "It's one thing meeting up at South Coast Plaza, but flying all the way to New York? That's a whole new level."

"Hey, trust me," Tashi reassured her. "You've got this."

“And besides, it's not like I've been completely innocent this whole time.” Tashi leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers fiddling with the telephone cord as she recounted one of their rebellious antics. “Remember that college party we went to? My dad definitely doesn't know about that!" Maya’s laughter echoed throughout her room as she reminisced about ditching the party in exchange for the local 7 Eleven at 2AM. Till this day she couldn't believe they had gotten away with it, but then again, Tabitha was under the impression that she was at UCLA college scouting.

A warm, genuine smile crept onto Maya's face as she listened to Tashi speak, feeling a sense of comfort and ease wash over her. Tashi had always been one to remain unfazed by anything--whether it be societal rules or the constant pressure of her successful tennis career. It was a trait that Maya both admired and secretly envied, wishing she could exude the same level of nonchalance in her own life.

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” Maya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“You won’t,” Tashi reassured her, her tone softening. “Look, you’ve covered your tracks. You told your grandparents you’re staying with that friend of yours, right? The one with the gap in her teeth?”

Maya nodded, despite Tashi not being present to see her affirmation.

“Yeah, I told them I’m going to Reneé’s for the weekend,” She confirmed, biting her lip. “I mean, they’re really good friends with her family, but I still feel guilty.”

"Maya, listen to me. You have nothing to worry about. You're not doing anything wrong," Tashi insisted, her voice filled with conviction and confidence. “You’re just… bending the rules a little. It’s not like we’re committing a crime,” Tashi said, her voice filled with the kind of certainty Maya wished she could muster herself.

Maya paused, her mind swirling with Tashi's words. At the end of the day, she knew she had to do this. Her entire life had been spent following the strict rules and expectations set by her grandparents. They lived in a world of high society and legacy, where image was everything. But Tashi's world was different. Spending time with her free-spirited sister had taught Maya to break out of her shell and live in the moment. She longed to let go of Tabitha's expectations and just be herself. This trip was for her, and it would be the last time her grandmother's disapproval stood in the way of her desires. As she gazed at the open window ahead of her, she could feel a sense of freedom and adventure calling to her, beckoning her to embrace this new chapter in her life.

“Okay,” Maya said, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing it.”

"Hell yeah, you are!" Tashi's voice echoed through the phone, filled with pride and determination. Maya could practically picture her sister fist-pumping into the air. "Plane tickets aren't cheap, babe. But trust me, M. You're going to love New York City. It's vibrant, pulsing with energy." Tashi's words sparked a feeling of anticipation in Maya's chest. "And just wait till you see me on that court at the Open—I'm going to dominate."

"Now get some sleep and prepare for the most unforgettable weekend of your life," Tashi exclaimed with a wide grin.

They exchanged goodbyes, and after ending the call, Maya stared at her phone, still buzzing from the energetic conversation. She walked over to her window, gazing out at the dazzling skyline of Los Angeles as it shimmered under the night sky. The city lights twinkled like stars as a plane sawed the sky, beckoning her to join in on the fun. Her reflection in the glass appeared small and hesitant. Could she really go through with this? She had never been one to break rules or rebel – every decision she had ever made was with her grandparents' blessings. But this... this felt like stepping into a whole new world. A world where she could let loose and be free, even if just for a few days.

It’s just one weekend, she told herself. Just a couple of days. I can do this.

The Next Day

Now, most people would think the hard part was packing, right? How in the world do you fit a week's worth of clothes into a carry-on suitcase for a weekend trip? Well, lucky for Maya, that kind of job needed experience, and she’d been practicing for years. She had honed the art of over-preparing for every kind of situation—always with the perfect mix of practical essentials and stylish options, who cares if it ends up with you lugging around two suitcases in the middle of LAX. But packing was the easy part; it was everything that came after that was trickier.

The hard part was actually figuring out how to get out of the house without waking any suspicions. Maya knew her grandparents’ routine like the back of her hand; it helped that it hadn’t changed in years. Tabitha woke up every morning at 6:30 A.M. on the dot for her morning jog with "the girls"—her circle of wealthy friends who gossip as much as they power walk. Winston would follow shortly after, making his way down to the breakfast table with the morning newspaper already tucked under his arm. Ettie, the housekeeper, would be brewing a pot of Italian coffee for him. The whole ritual was so ingrained in the fabric of their household that Maya could practically set her watch by it.

Her grandmother always had a way of figuring out when Maya was up to something, so timing was crucial. If she was going to slip out unnoticed, she’d have to be long gone before Tabitha finished her jog. She calculated that the best window of opportunity was during those precious few minutes when Winston would be alone in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and absorbed in the day’s headlines. She’d leave a meticulously written note on the entryway table, some excuse about the early bird catching the worm and hope that would be enough to buy her a few extra hours.

Her heart racing, Maya reached the top of the grand staircase and paused. The entranceway below seemed impossibly vast; the polished marble floor gleaming under the faint light of dawn that streamed in through the stained-glass windows. A family portrait, prominently displayed by the foyer, seemed to gaze down at her—a beautiful oil painting of her grandparents, herself, and her late mother. Her mother’s soft eyes seemed to follow her every move as she cautiously descended the stairs, almost as if silently questioning her decision—Are you sure about this?

Maya tiptoed down the staircase, gripping the banister as if it might help her tread more lightly. The large grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, the only sound breaking the quiet of the early morning. Her pulse quickened with every step, the echo of her shoes on the marble floor sounding far too loud in the stillness. She couldn’t risk alerting Ettie, who was always the first to rise before her grandparents. If Ettie caught her, there would be questions, and then she’d have to explain why she was up so early, where she was going, and why she had two packed suitcases for a sleepover with a family friend.

Her suitcase’s wheels glided silently over the marble floor as she made her way to the front door, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. She caught a glimpse of the kitchen down the hallway—Winston was already there, sitting at the breakfast table, absorbed in his newspaper. Her note, propped up against the sugar bowl, looked small and insignificant, and for a fleeting moment, Maya wondered if she should just go in and tell him the truth. But she quickly brushed that thought aside. There was no way they’d ever let her go if they knew where she was really heading.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle on the front door and slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

A sharp gust of cool air struck Maya's face as soon as she stepped outside her front door, sending a shiver down her spine. The crispness of the early morning air seemed to whisper warnings in her ears, urging her to turn back while she still could. But Maya pushed the thoughts away with determination. She had made up her mind, and she wasn't going to let any doubts stop her.

In the pale light of dawn, Maya spotted Reneé's car sitting at the curb, its headlights cutting through the dimness like beacons. Reneé stood next to the driver's side door, wrapped in a thick jacket, her bonnet still on her head and rubbing her sleepy eyes. As soon as she saw Maya approaching, she perked up slightly, though her expression remained a mix of curiosity and concern.

Maya had always known she could count on Reneé, her best friend since childhood. They met in the most ridiculously “private school” way possible: at their elite academy’s spring fair. It was 1995, and six-year-old Maya was twirling around in a frilly lavender dress, sparkly shoes, and butterfly clips in her hair like a mini-Mariah Carey. Meanwhile, Reneé—awkward, with wild curls and a shiny new camcorder her parents bought to shut her up—was filming a “serious” documentary titled “Life Sucks When You’re Six".

The collision was inevitable. Reneé backed right into Maya, sending both of them sprawling. But instead of tears, Maya jumped up, adjusted her dress, and grinned. “Hey, can I be in your movie?” she asked, with all the confidence of a little girl who had just discovered Clueless. Reneé, who was usually more comfortable behind the camera than in front of people, couldn’t help but smile. From that moment on, they were inseparable—like two halves of a Spice Girls cassette tape.

Growing up in the same exclusive Los Angeles neighborhood, they were an unlikely pair, more like Cher Horowitz and Daria Morgendorffer at group sleepovers than your typical best friends. Maya was the girly girl: always perfectly put together, with glittery lip gloss and an impressive collection of Lisa Frank stationery. Reneé, on the other hand, had a style best described as “indie film director in training”—baggy overalls, thrifted T-shirts, and always a journal in hand to jot down her latest “brilliant” ideas. While Maya attended etiquette and ballet classes, Reneé was busy trying to figure out how to direct the next Godzilla movie.

Despite their differences, they shared everything: secrets, dreams, and even some epic middle school crushes. In Maya’s perfectly pink bedroom—walls covered in a fancy wallpaper imported from France and posters of NSYNC and fashion magazine cutouts neatly pinned on a cork board—they would lie on the floor and talk about how one day they’d move to New York City, where Maya would become the next It Girl and Reneé would direct films about “the real meaning of life” (whatever that meant at age twelve). In Reneé’s room, which was more of a creative chaos zone, they would brainstorm ideas for homemade movies, often starring Maya as a glamorous protagonist and Reneé providing the scene of what they thought a woman in her 20s would find themselves in

Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of navigating the ups and downs of adolescence in a world where everyone seemed to have at least three vacation homes. They laughed at dumb celebrity gossip from TRL, whispered about grand plans that sounded straight out of Lizzie McGuire, and found ways to dodge the relentless expectations placed upon them by their parents. With Reneé by her side, Maya didn’t have to worry about being perfect; she could just be herself—even if “herself” meant spending a Friday night reenacting scenes from Titanic while Reneé filmed it as "performance art."

Even in the early morning light, Reneé’s voice was dripping with suspicion. "I can't believe you're actually up this early," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the car door. "This better be worth dragging me out of bed before sunrise. Did you finally get tired of the whole 'good girl' act and decide to run off with some older guy?"

Maya tossed her suitcase into the backseat, the car grumbling to life as she tried to sound casual. "What? No," she said, though her voice came out a little too defensive. "It’s just a quick trip. I’ll be back by Monday." But she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest at the thought of how close she was to getting caught.

Reneé raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing like a gossip columnist sniffing out a juicy scandal. "Right. 'Quick trip' is exactly what I’d say if I were meeting some mysterious silver fox." Her tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Maya forced out a laugh, shaking her head as she slid into the passenger seat. "Please. If I were running away to meet some older guy, I’d at least wait until I was done with high school. And I’d have a way better cover story."

Reneé leaned over the steering wheel, still eyeing Maya like she was trying to solve a mystery. "Uh-huh. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s up, and you’re not exactly packing like someone who's just 'going to visit a friend.' Spill it, Maya. What’s really going on? Did you get seduced by some rich guy who swept you off your feet at one of those boring charity events? Because honestly, that sounds kind of romantic. Also, kind of reckless, but still romantic."

Maya fumbled with the seatbelt, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t exactly tell Reneé that she was sneaking away to New York to meet the half-sister she’d only found out about a year ago. That kind of revelation was way too fragile, too precious to expose to anyone else’s opinions—not even Reneé’s. "I’m fine," she said, a little too quickly. "I just… needed to get out of here for a few days before the semester starts. You know, clear my head or whatever."

Reneé rolled her eyes but started the car, steering them down the empty streets. "Okay, sure. But if I find out you ran off with some guy who’s old enough to have his own yacht, I’ll say I told you so."

The car cruised through the dimly lit streets; the city still wrapped in the quiet of early morning. Reneé reached over and switched on the radio, landing on a station playing an old Britney Spears song. "Oh my God, remember when we did that dance routine to this?" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "Come on, Maya, don’t leave me hanging. Sing it like you mean it!"

Maya’s laughter bubbled up despite the tension she was carrying, and she joined in. As they belted out the chorus together, it was easy to forget, just for a moment, where she was headed and the secrets she was keeping. For those few minutes, it felt like they were back in middle school again, planning sleepovers and giggling about silly crushes. But as the song faded, reality crept back in, and Maya’s thoughts returned to the trip ahead.

The car rumbled to a stop at the departure terminal, and Maya took a deep breath, bracing herself for the whirlwind of the airport. The early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the sky, casting a hazy glow over the glass facade. Despite the hour, LAX was already alive with travellers dragging suitcases, taxi drivers haggling for fares, and the occasional lost soul wandering around with a coffee in hand.

Maya climbed out of the car, her steps slower than usual as she retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Reneé stretched her arms over her head and let out a long yawn. "Alright, runaway princess," she said, still eyeing Maya like she was waiting for a confession. "Go have your mysterious rendezvous. But I swear, if you come back wearing a diamond bracelet, I’m going to need the whole story."

"Will do," Maya said, forcing a smile. But her chest felt tight. She wanted to tell Reneé the truth—about her real reason for the trip, about Tashi—but the words just wouldn’t come.

Reneé pulled her in for a quick hug. "Whatever it is you're doing, just be careful, okay? I’m all for spontaneous adventures, but try not to come back married to a guy who quotes The Great Gatsby unironically."

"I promise," Maya said, laughing nervously. "No secret weddings."

Reneé grinned as she climbed back into the car. "Good. See you when you get back, okay? And text me if you need a rescue."

Maya gave her a final wave as Reneé’s car rolled away, the taillights fading into the flow of early morning traffic. For a moment, she stood at the curb, feeling strangely exposed against the backdrop of the sprawling airport. She adjusted the strap of her bag and took a deep breath. She was really doing this.

The automatic doors slid open with a faint hiss, and Maya stepped inside, letting the chaos of the airport wash over her. There was a comforting anonymity here—a sense that she was just another traveller with somewhere to be, just another face in the crowd. She weaved her way through the bustling terminal, her suitcase bumping along behind her as she headed for the self-check-in kiosks.

As she tapped at the screen, printing her boarding pass, Maya’s thoughts wandered back to Reneé’s teasing. It would’ve been easier to lie and say she was sneaking off to meet some rich older guy. At least then, Reneé would have had something fun to speculate about. Instead, Maya was about to board a plane to meet a half-sister she hadn’t even known existed until a year ago, and not even her best friend knew the real story.

With her boarding pass in hand, she made her way toward the security line, her pulse quickening. She was about to cross an invisible line—leaving behind everything she’d known to find answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But there was no turning back now.

Maya found a seat by the window at the gate and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages. There was a new one from Tashi, sent just a few minutes ago.

Tashi: Just got to the courts. Can’t wait for you to get here! It’s going to be amazing; I promise.

Maya smiled, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling inside her. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to finally meet Tashi face-to-face, to see the sister she’d only known through late-night phone calls and Facebook photos. It felt surreal, like stepping into a story that wasn’t entirely her own.

As her flight was called, Maya stood and gathered her things, ready to step into the unknown. Whatever lay ahead, at least it was her secret to keep, for now.

NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK - August 4th, 2019

The sun blazed relentlessly upon the crowd, its heat shimmering off the concrete in waves that distorted the air. Maya squinted behind her oversized sunglasses, their dark lenses doing little to shield her from the sun’s intensity. Her skin prickled from the overexposure of Vitamin D, making it difficult to focus on anything besides the sweltering discomfort that clung to her like a second skin. As she sat in the stands, the familiar scent of sunscreen and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, triggering memories of summers long past—carefree days spent at her grandparents' estate in Bel-Air Crest, where her only concern was perfecting her bronzed tan.

The hum of the crowd rose and fell around her, but it felt distant, like background noise from an abandoned television. Maya’s gaze drifted across the humble country club, taking in the swirl of colors from spectators’ sun hats and vibrant outfits, and the flashes of bright white tennis gear as players gathered to bear witness to what they suspected to be the match of a century. She was scanning the rows of seats absentmindedly when a tall, slender figure caught her attention. The person was descending the steps slowly, almost as if they were reluctant to be here at all.

As the figure came closer, the cascade of mid-length blonde hair, the effortless grace, and the striking features became unmistakable. Even from a distance, Maya could tell it was Tashi. Her sister’s presence filled her with a complicated rush of emotions—part nostalgia, part unease. They locked eyes just as Tashi reached her row. Time seemed to slow, and an unspoken tension hung between them, as heavy as the humid air. Despite the match unfolding on the court before them, Maya couldn’t tear her gaze away. She watched as Tashi took her seat just a few feet away, their proximity at once too close and yet, not close enough.

'Get a grip Maya, you knew she would be here.'

Maya’s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her seat, her knuckles turning a ghostly shade of her usual caramel complexion as the internal struggle roiled within her. Her eyes darted anxiously to the tennis court, where the looming presence of the upcoming match filled her with a sense of dread. The players’ shadows stretched long in the late afternoon sun, mirroring the tension and anticipation coursing through Maya’s body. It was as if the scene was mocking her—a snapshot of normalcy while her mind was anything but calm. The roar of the crowd spiked in excitement as the players began their warm-ups, the rhythmic thud of tennis balls echoing like a ticking clock. Maya shifted in her seat, trying to shake off the prickly sensation that crept up her spine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tashi’s gaze turn toward her. Tashi—the sister who had once known her better than anyone else in the world, who could finish her sentences, who could always sense what she was thinking. Now, it felt like they were two strangers who had to pretend they hadn’t once shared everything. Maya’s breath hitched slightly as she felt Tashi’s eyes on her, the weight of that familiar gaze bringing a sudden rush of memories she had buried beneath layers of silence and time.

Tashi's features, once so easy to read, seemed guarded now. Her cool expression betrayed nothing, but Maya knew her sister too well to be fooled. The slight tension in her jaw, the faint crease on her forehead—it was all there, hiding beneath the calm façade. A year ago, they would have hugged, laughed, shared inside jokes to ease the tension. Now, they were separated by more than just a few feet; a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved issues lay between them.

Tashi's gaze landed on Maya, her once-closest confidante, now a stranger sitting just a few feet away. It unnerved her, how different Maya seemed, even in small ways—the slight slump in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw. There was something brittle about her that hadn’t been there before, a fragility hiding behind the composed exterior. Maya's forced smile, offered to a couple of teenage girls who recognized her from a fashion magazine, barely reached her eyes. It was the kind of smile people practiced in the mirror, perfected for the sake of appearances.

As Tashi’s gaze drifted back to the court, she felt a pang of something close to regret. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had imagined a different future, one where they could lean on each other no matter what happened. But life had taken a different course, and the choices they’d made—some willingly, others out of desperation—had driven a wedge between them that seemed impossible to remove.

The match hadn’t even started, but Maya could already feel the tension tightening around her like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest touch. She stole a glance at Tashi, who was staring ahead, her jaw clenched as though determined not to show any sign of weakness. There had always been that fierce pride about Tashi, a need to present a strong front no matter how turbulent things were beneath the surface. It was one of the things Maya had admired about her growing up, but now it felt like a wall keeping her out.

"Nice to see you made it," Tashi said finally, her voice low and edged with irony, as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant it or not.

Maya's lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, carefully controlled. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Tashi’s mouth curved into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Right," she said, turning her attention back to the players who were now preparing for the first serve. "Because we’ve always been so good at being there for each other."

The words stung, though Maya wasn’t entirely sure whether Tashi intended them to. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and pressed her lips together to keep the sharp retort from escaping. Instead, she chose to stay silent, gripping the arms of her chair until she could feel the bite of the metal against her palms.

The crowd erupted in applause as the first serve cut through the air, the players diving into the game with all the precision and grace expected at this level of competition. But for Maya, the real match was happening here, in the silent exchanges and unsaid words between her and Tashi. Every ball that flew across the net seemed to carry the weight of their unresolved history, every cheer from the crowd a reminder of how long they had been pretending that everything was fine.

The tension hung between them like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn’t just a tennis match to Maya and Tashi—it was a collision of everything unresolved, a confrontation without words. The years of sisterhood, of shared secrets and broken promises, all seemed to blur together, fusing the past and present into one inescapable truth: no matter how far they drifted, they could never really escape each other.

And as the players battled it out on the court below, Maya couldn’t help but feel as if she and Tashi were the real competitors, locked in a game where neither of them knew the rules anymore.

#challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #challengers fanfiction #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #tashi duncan #melanie's fic: compress/repress #Spotify

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bloodycassian · 8 months ago

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Enemy Lines - Reader x Azriel - reader is caught by the Autumn Court and Azriel saves her.

TW - themes of torture/death, gruesome violence, damsel in distress reader, savior Azriel

“I don’t want her going alone.” Azriel’s words were clipped towards his high lord. It seemed that the other part of Rhysand, his brother, would be unavailable for this matter. Azriel wasn’t sure if he blamed him.

“I understand your bond is new, but this is essential, Azriel.” He said calmly, hardly looking up from the maps atop the table.

He couldn’t help the way his lips pulled back in disgust. “So send Feyre, then.” He shot back, unable to contain the words. Rhys stilled, then finally, finally looked at Azriel.

Pity coasted his features, then hardened back into that mask of the high lord. “Feyre does not have the same gifts. It would defeat the purpose-”

“Send me, send anyone else. Rhys this is a death sentence!”

“Have faith in your mate, Azriel. She is talented, and smarter than you give her credit for.” His dismissal was not angry, nor was it painted with that pitying look he’d shown before. To his credit, he revealed no sign of budging on the matter, even while one of the few that could challenge him and survive raged at him.

Azriel saw the conversation going nowhere, and stormed from the room.

The robes were uncomfortable. You sighed and adjusted your position in the saddle again, wishing to the Mother you’d picked a different disguise for this role. The priestess uniform had made you look utterly delectable though, so there was no complaining there. Not as Azriel had whispered filthy things to you while he flew you to the closest stable where he was sure there were no Autumn cout guards or spies lingering.

You bought the cheapest horse they had, and it’d been a mistake.

The mare threw her head and nearly reared each time Azriel got within a few yards of her. It made the journey much longer without your mate at your side. You’d planned to at least say goodbye to him before you got to the Autumn border, but with such a fussy mare, it seemed that it wouldn’t happen.

So as the humidity and heat started to peak, you waved behind you, to the darkening sky where you knew Azriel watched from afar.

You had four days to get as much information as you could on Beron’s plans. He’d recently began acquiring more and more ships along his shoreline, and it’d caused a stir. Skiffs, warships and cargo boats clotted his waterways as you rode up the bridge to the bunker castle, nestled into the leaf littered ground.

Your pale robes stood out in bright contrast against all the red, orange and brown shades of this place. Guards closed in from the trees once you crossed, meeting you at the outer gates of the castle. Two males stood in front, spears sharp and at the ready.

“State your business.” One commanded.

The glamour over your face was essential now, and you made sure it did not slip as you spoke.

“The Mother sends you a Priestess, and you meet her with violence?” You called back.

Your heart quickened as you stepped down from the horse, a vulnerable time of dismount would be the perfect moment to kill. They could take it as a threat, and be justified in their murder.

“I am Vivienne, of the Kallos Sea. I understand your previous priestess has…” You paused for effect, knowing that she was on a very long sailing back to Valhallan. “Abandoned her duties.”

“How could you-” The leader began, but was interrupted by the enormous stone doors opening.

“Welcome, priestess.” Eris Vanserra welcomed you, waving you forward.

“I understand that the temple in Valhallan has been undergoing restructuring. Much overdo, in my opinion.``You hummed in agreement, made absent comments while you searched the walls and doors for any hint at where Beron’s office may be. Eris made kind smalltalk while he showed you to your room. The male was charming, but revealed nothing about the influx of ships when you hinted towards it.

Remnants of the missing priestess still lay about. The candles, gems and potions lined the shelves on the walls. Personal artifacts had been cleared, and you hoped the female wasn’t fond of the items left behind. Azriel was only able to capture her because her journey to the nearest temple had taken her out of sight of the court’s many guard stations.

“My lady?” Eris prompted, his forehead pinched. He’d been speaking. You cursed yourself, you feigned sadness, and placed a hand upon your chest. “I apologize my lord, it has been.. Distressing to say the least. With Liasia disappearing it is… unsettling.” You fanned your face, making sure that the false tears showed.

“You’re safe here.” Eris assured, with a squeeze to your shoulder. His hand left behind a tingling, heated sensation on your skin. A reminder of what he was? What power he possessed? He looked at you, his golden gaze darkening. “Just be sure you have someone with you if you exit the manor.”

You batted your eyes at him, playing the part of seductive priestess well. “I’d ask for you if I did, prince.”

That got him to smile. “Please do. I’d be more than happy to show you my court.”

A new idea sparked in your mind. Perhaps you wouldn’t need to make this a rushed, blind mission. If Eris was as paliape as he seemed to be for you, perhaps he’d give you the information willingly.

His gaze lingered on you, even as he bid you goodnight.

The rotting scent only seemed extreme when your torturers came and went. The fresh air they brought with them a curse more than a relief. All around the Autumn dungeons seemed to reek and ooze with the smell of decay and half eaten things. A bucket of rats in the corner, long dead was swarmed with maggots. The trays of food you’d not eaten had been thrown against the walls, food for more scurrying things to feast upon.

Eris did none of the torturing himself. He did watch though, and questioned while a hooded and masked male did the carving. You had two fingernails left, from what you’d been able to see through your swollen eyes. They’d had some kind of powder, an itching, burning thing that they used when they’d gotten sick of the blood.

But you hadn’t broken. The glamour was still in place, and you’d die before implicating your court.

“You smell of snow and wind and rivers. Not of the Ocean, Vivenne.” Eris had whispered, so close you could feel his hot breath on your ear. “There is no reconstruction the Mother’s Temple. The Valhallan sages think it to be distasteful.” He said smugly.

Though you cursed yourself for falling to such a trap, you worried more for Azriel, who by your estimation would be arriving in less than a day for your rescue.

“Perhaps you don’t know all that you think you do, Prince.” You strained for the words, little more than a whisper.

The hours were grinding on Azriel’s nerves. He had gotten the sense that something was wrong days ago, but he refused to act. The bond had remained quiet, diluted almost from the Glamour. He did not enjoy being so blinded from you. Without the mental link, he felt lost, like a ship without course.

Night fell, and he decided he could no longer wait. He did not warn Rhys or Cassian, because he know - deep in his bones - that something was wrong. Something more than just his mate being late to their meeting point. Something had gone wrong.

So, with a running start, he flew through the Autumn Court borders and vowed to the Mother he’d find you or die trying.

The pain was less than a pinch, each time they drew your blood. The blades and odd things they used were nothing, compared to the poisoned prods they’d put in your back. Fire rippled through you with every breath, with every heartbeat that dragged the poison through you.

Your eyes no longer wept from the throbbing, your voice was gone from the screaming. You held on faintly, to the glimmering bond deep inside your mind - your soul. The thick rope that seemed to be vibrating, warm and welcoming to your presence held you together. It was Azriel. It had to be, because if it wasn’t then what was the point of holding on any longer?

You could feel something like peace embrace you, every time you’d pass out. Darkness greeted you with open arms, enticing you to fall into the shapeless pit. But that cord, that part of you that loved Azriel more than it feared the pain… it was stronger. It helped you stay, to remain in this world for a few more hours. Days? How long had it been since Eris’ guards had ambushed you?

The question brought forth the violence of consciousness. The males before you came into focus again, and you body tensed. The fire along your back heightened, earning a broken sob from your chest.

“Tell me where you’re from, who you’re with, and this can be over.” Eris promised, his voice like honey in the darkness. And Mother above it was tempting. So incredibly tempting to allow the words to come out. The answer to what he wanted was only a few syllables. You could feel your hold on the Glamour beginning to shake.

There was a thudding sound, far above the prison cell. Dirt shifted and rained down from the ceiling above. An earthquake, hopefully - that would rid you of this pain faster than you’d hope.

Eris flicked a hand, and two of the guards left the room. When the door opened, revealing silvered moonlight from the windows in the hall, it also made that decaying scent swirl and vacate the room for a moment.

And when you’d normally cringe, and attempt to hold your breath, this fresh air was different. It was cold. Downright freezing, in fact. The guards hesitated outside the door, and the screaming began.

“Where is she.” Azriel’s voice was not his own. It was a growl, a demand and promise of wrath if the boy did not answer his question. The redhead stammered, and clawed at the shadowsinger’s hands, his eyes wide and horrified at what he saw before him.

He let the boy drop. It’d be more likely a guard would know. Azriel was having a hard time getting to the logic of things though, when he sensed the pain his mate was in. When he knew he’d been right all along, and Rhys should have listened.

The compiled rage leaked from him like a poison. Every guard who got close enough fainted or died on the spot from the intensity of the shadows, the nightmares they saw there. He reigned them in, his surroundings coming into focus. He took a breath, and it was as if his senses were heightened in this state.

There was a male hiding behind the next corner, beside a barrel of wine and stores of bread. Azriel was there in an instant, his shadows taking him so easily, like liquid from one space to the other.

“Where is she?” He said the words calmly, but they still came out through his teeth.

“W-who-”

“The priestess!” Azriel’s blade was at the male’s neck in the next heartbeat. There wouldn’t be survivors here, not tonight.

“The cells are down the next hall, the door on the left with the lock. The Prince is there as well-” With the teary confession, Azriel threw the male against the wall, flecks of bone chasing his shadows as he winnowed to the end of the hall.

The screams were growing louder, more frantic before ending abruptly. Eris flicked a hand again, and all the devices and pain actively hurting you disappeared. The torturer included. Had he been a figment the entire time? More shouts echoed through the halls.

A smile curled your lip, stretching the skin to the point of pain. Then, you couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you could anyway, it came out more like bitter coughs.

Eris was moving then, a swift backhand had you spitting up blood between laughs. He unhooked your legs, then your arms. He held you up by the waist, then decided better and let you fall to the ground. Your body sparked in pain, protesting at every movement. Something cold pressed to your neck, and you closed your eyes, blood tipping back in your throat.

The cold air flowing into the room stopped all together, and the silvery light of the moon faded. Your heart thundered, every joint in your body throbbing in time with it. Pain sang through you, a symphony of aches and split scabs being torn apart.

The guards at the door shuffled, holding their weapons at the ready, then abruptly fell to their knees. There was no sound, other than the clang of their weapons against the stone.

Azriel appeared in the doorway like a god, wrathful and wielding his power like a part of himself. Your tears stung your wounds as they fell. You mouthed his name, unable to make the word out around the knot in your throat.

“Not another step, Shadowsinger.” The knife at your throat pinched, and warmth flowed down your chest.

Azriel straightened, his jaw flexing. “What about her?” Azriel held up a hand, and a red haired female appeared, a gag in her mouth and tears in her eyes. You recognized her as the Beron’s wife, the Lady of Autumn. Eris’s knife relaxed at your throat, and his other no longer held you in place. Your body sagged, threatening to fall without the support of his other hand at your shoulder.

“You wouldn’t. She’s done nothing.” Eris spat, and a cruel smile played at Azriel’s lips. Truth teller laid a streak of blood upon the Lady’s high cheekbone, carving down, down, down-

“Enough!” Eris was shaking, you could feel it reverberating through his legs.

“Let her go.” Azriel’s eyes darted to yours, and he blinked quickly. “Release her Eris, or I’ll be sure she regrets ever birthing you.”

“I’m certain she already does.” Eris muttered, shame weighing his voice. He nudged you forward, and you nearly fell face first to the floor but Azriel was there - and you were gone. Cool shadows embracing you, circling you like a cat.

“What did they do- what hurts the most?” Azriel was asking before he’d even stepped from his shadows. You landed together in damp leaves, the moon’s light making you squint.

His hands shook as they grazed over your tattered clothes. His mind warring with revenge and healing. The glamour on your face was rippling and changing, shifting between the face he loved and the one of a stranger. But your scent. He inhaled deeply, greedily, even though it was tainted with blood and something darker, more sinister beneath the surface. It was still you. Still his mate.

“Missed you.” You breathed, smiling at him through swollen lips. His heart ached, his stomach threatened to spill out right there on the decaying autumn ground.

He tore off his top layer of leather, covering your shoulders with it. The siphons attached dulled but didn’t darken. He used parts of that glowing power to patch up the larger wounds he could see in the shadowy moonlight. Relief flooded him when that glamour finally shifted, and fell. Your face was a bloodied mess but he kissed you on the forehead anyway, as gentle as he could.

He felt weak, so very tired and weak after the encounter. Fatigue pulled on him, even as the night air bit at his exposed arms once he took off into the sky.

#reader x azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger

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rockyp77mk3 · 4 months ago

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In the midst of World War II, the Coast Guard Beach Patrol diligently safeguarded over 3,700 miles of coastline, enlisting the service of approximately 24,000 men. These patrols, mounted on horseback, operated in pairs, maintaining a distance of around 100 feet from each other while effectively patrolling a 2-mile expanse. Known as "Sand Pounders," these skilled individuals adeptly traversed challenging landscapes with remarkable speed and efficiency. This account dates back to the year 1945.

#history #wwii #USCG

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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Shiver Me Timbers! (18+)

pairing: pirate captain!seungcheol x siren!reader

genre: fantasy au, smut, pure smut with a fair amount of plot imo (MNDI pls), a little angst at the end

description: as seungcheol's ship drags up the shore, you watch from afar, eyes on the prize

warnings: PIRATE DIRTY TALK HELP, SLIGHT DUBCON bc hes u know a little under her spell, unrealistic ass transformation from fish 2 person, desperation, big dumb whiny cheol, bottom!cheol, kinda switch!reader, teasing, tiddie play, tiddie sucking, fairly graphic character death (drowning), seungcheol fucks yn like a ragdoll hihi, hes still bottom here tho, yn just has her tiddies OUT #progressive #2023

quotes from my proofreader: "I WAS WET!!", "he is soooo silly and sexy"

wordcount: 3.0k

“Anchor comin’ down!”

“Aye!”

There’s a mighty splash when the rusty anchor collides with the surface of the water. The chain clinks as it plummets, until it’s kicking up a storm on the sandy seafloor and the ship is safely secured. The Barbaric Seventeen is rocking like a mother rocks her young, gently swinging from the onslaught of waves from the North.

“Another safe map-navigation performed by the great Woozi!” Seungcheol speaks from where he’s perched on the head of the ship, one knee bent to sit his foot atop the wooden railing. He’s half bathed in sunlight, hot from the scorching sun over the endless sea. The shipmates clap and cheer, the odd clunk joining the cacophony from the members with missing hands. “Now go!” he commands, “Go find me my treasure, boys! It shan’t be much of a challenge for ye’s anyway!”

“Ye’s not comin’, Captain?” Mingyu calls from where the lot of them are crowding the planked deck, eyes squinted to stare at his silhouette in the sun. Seungcheol’s hat rustles as he shakes his head. “Naye, brother Mingyu. Today I will guard the Barbaric Seventeen,” he answers and pats the wooden railing like a dog.

The crewmates bugger off, one large group padding along the coast with their hooks and their scars and their swords in their belts.

“Don’t be tempted by pretty ladies out here, brother Jun!” Seokmin advises, gloomily. “There be sirens in these waters!”

“Don’t scare the kid, brother Seokmin,” Wonwoo snaps, standing on the other side of Jun, who looks at the two of them, lost and a little scared. “Sirens aren’t real.”

“Tell that to Jeremy!” Seokmin retorts, “RIP.” And then their voices are fading into the distance.

Seungcheol hardly notices their conversation, as he’s placed himself on a gathering of finely-churned sand, squinting into the sun-lit sea from the shadow of his Captain’s hat. His jacket, much too warm for the every beating rays above, has been discarded beside him, and now his chest peeks through a thin, muddied white shirt. Forever enchanted by the gentle breathing, the rise and fall of the sea, he’s quick to see you.

At first it’s simply a diamond-glisten under the surface of the water - Seungcheol knew the shine of gems, knew the way they reflected and captured the light - he half-sits up, biceps flexing as he peers in. Then, he catches the movement of something long and blue and scaly. The coasting water kisses his bare feet.

You’re smiling in the water, long, flowing hair like seaweed in the ever-turning tides. You’d spotted the ship miles back, and had followed discreetly under it. Now there’s a man alone on the shore, and you’re splashing your tail teasingly above the surface of the water, soft, rhythmic taps, beckoning him closer. Then you open your mouth and begin to sing.

Seungcheol’s stumbling to his knees, crawling on the sand. There’s a beautiful, intoxicating hum coming from the seafloor and he must, he must hear it for himself. Crawling until the water is reaching his chest, you finally strike.

Your head bursts from the water, splashing salty liquid onto the man, who’s gaping at the soft tunes from your ruby lips. You’re pushing your sopping hair back, eyes falling on him, sitting back on his knees now. You giggle, humming gently, when you lean into him. His eyes catch a diamond around your neck - the one he’d seen under the sloping water.

You’re the most beautiful woman - woman? - he’s even seen, and your chest is bare and glistening wet in the sunlight, and your cheeks are red and eyes sly. You’re leaning into him, hand brushing over his sculpted chest, poorly hidden from the soaked shirt, and you smell like the sea - you smell like home.

“Hi there,” you giggle, biting your lip at him. He’s so befuddled by you, he lets out a strangled moan at just the sight of you, before he’s recollecting himself.

“Hi,” he breathes, awestruck. He’s almost cute, you think, hip jutting into the wet sand beneath you. His eyes - unfortunately - sway downwards to your tail, and his eyebrows are furrowing. Wait a minute, he thinks, was this not what Seokmin was just talking about? “What are ye’s?” he asks, because something in his body is oozing fear, filling him like water cascades into a drowning man, and the spell is broken.

For an instant.

You see it immediately, the way the adoration leaves his eyes, and something reminiscent of disgust overtakes him at your fishy parts. Thinking fast, you grab his bigger hand in your own and press it to your chest. “Oh,” he breathes, flushing, and he’s looking at your chest, and the way it expands when you heave a breath to sing for him.

A song flows from your lungs and dances in circles around Seungcheol’s head. He can’t even remember what he was thinking about before, just feels his dick harden in his pants. Dazed and confused, the only thing grounding him is his hand, frozen on your chest and covered by your own. You smile, because he’s opening up to you like the shell of a clam.

“I’m a mermaid, silly. Don’t you want to touch me?” you whisper teasingly, emphasizing by shaking your chest and letting your tits jiggle right in front of him. He whimpers and nods, and you eye the hard-on in his lap, big and stretching the fabric of the pants to their limit. You look around, eyes catching the rock-quarry at the end of the beach, but seeing no one nearby. Then, you clumsily stretch yourself from your heavy, heavy tail, hand fondling him through the fabric. “You gotta pull me up,” you command, voice strained from the movement, and humid breath hitting his lips. He’s hissing and bucking into your hand, unable to comprehend your request.

“What?” he whines, panting and looking at your lips. Your tail is heavy as an anchor when on land, and the position is killing your back, so squeeze his chin between your fingers and grit your teeth at him. “Pull me onto land.”

He’s nodding dumbly and without even an ounce of effort, he grabs you by your waist and pushes the two of you onto dry sand. You’re immediately covered in a salve of small sand particles and moaning, really moaning, because this man is so big and strong, but so dumb, he had no trouble lifting you all the way onto land.

As soon as you’re out of the water, the diamond around your neck is glowing, turning hot against your collarbones, and Seungcheol is groaning, squeezing his eyes shut and holding a hand to shield himself from its intensity.

It stops, he sees the back of his eyelids darken and peeks open one eye, unable to help the little gasp that escapes him. You’re lying on your stomach in front of him and your tail is gone, replaced with soft human legs. Without a thought, he reaches over to touch the skin of your slippery wet new legs. You giggled at his dumbfounded expression, when his hand glides up from your thigh and squeezes your ass.

“You like it?” you chirp, and he chuckles breathlessly. “Aye.”

You push at him, crawling into his lap, all naked and soft and ready for him, hands on his chest, soothing the muscles. “That’s why we needed to be on land, silly.” You smile at him, sitting completely still in his lap, where your pussy is pressed into his crotch, and you’re nonchalantly, he feels foolish for being so beet-faced and nervous. “Well?” you begin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “take off your clothes, dumbo!”

At your whim, he’s scrambling underneath you, shirt practically ripping, as he tears it off. His chest is so, so pretty - pale and defined and expanding into your hands. You watch him struggle with a fond smile, as you sit completely still on his crotch, even when he’s pulling his pants off. Your weight makes it damn near impossible to shimmy off. He doesn’t dare tell you to move though. Seungcheol feels like the luckiest man in the world, because your pussy is leaking onto his pants. Miraculously, he escapes the garments, and he looks up at you with a proud grin, as if he’d passed some sort of test.

“You did so well,” you coo, hand caressing his cheek and eyes shining in adoration when he nuzzles into your hand. Then your gaze drops. His cock is fucking huge and fucking red and pouring precum from the tip, oozing like blood from wound. “Let me reward you,” you whisper, satisfied when he whines and nods.

You press your thighs into his, hard, so he’s spreading his legs, a sprawled out starfish on a quarry-rock. You see his stomach tense at that, and he’s groaning. “Please, please, please.”

“Y/n. Grab my boobs.”

His hands find your tits immediately at your request, thumbs pressing into the areolas.

“Please, please, please, Y/n!” he’s yelling because it’s torture, and he’s throwing his head back to call out to God. But you’re the mightiest being present, and you push yourself up to teasingly run his cock through your folds, over and over, humming to the melody of your sticky pussy kissing his cock. “Please,” he cries.

“I don’t know,” you hum, rubbing yourself carelessly against his achingly hard cock. “I kind of like just this? Don’t you like this?”

“In, in, in!” he’s sobbing, arms flexing where they’re stretched out to hold your soft mounds, clinging to them for dear life. “Oh,” your voice is laced with fake sympathy, “Oh, you want in?”

“Please,” he gasps. You shrug in compliance, “Okay.”

Finally you pause your grinding, stopping his cock at once when you feel it, the sticky head of it creating tension at your slit. You sink down. Then you stop. The head of his cock is nuzzled in your warmth and you’re flexing your thighs to keep yourself on top of him.

“No, no, no!” he cries, bucking his hips upwards and shaking from the frustration, when your hand pushes his abdomen down. You pout: “I thought this was what you wanted? Are you not in?”

Usually, you can get away with fucking around with men in this manner, but it seems this time you’ve thoroughly miscalculated: In what felt like a split second, Seungcheol sits upright and removes his hands from your chest, anchoring them on your hips and bouncing you.

He’s pushing you down on his cock, and this time you’re the one crying out, utterly taken aback when, with seemingly no effort at all, he lifts your entire body weight and slams you down again.

He’s grunting and panting, completely enchanted by your body and your pretty moans. He grunts at the way your perfect pussy chokes his cock. You’re no better. You’ve lost all control of the situation, slipping into a cockdrunk haze and crying out again and again at the way his tip kisses your cervix.

“Beautiful, such a pretty girl, aye? Squeezin’ me cock so tight,” he grunts, and all you can do is cry, burying your head in the crook of his neck and kissing it feebly. “Mhm, ye better treat me nice next time? Hmm?” His voice is deep and baritone against the shell of your ear.

Your clit is like the x’ed out treasure on one of Seungcheol’s maps, when he snakes his hand down your soft body to rub it in messy circles. “Prettiest moans me ever heard. Say me name, sweetcheeks, say Seungcheol,” he commands and you can only comply, orgasm fizzing in your stomach at his constant onslaught.

“Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Seungcheol!” you chant as you cum, cunt squeezing his cock like you were trying to kill him. The image of your scrunched up, blissed out face and your pussy creaming on his shaft, has he himself cumming inside you, painting your walls with cum, white like seafoam. He’s rutting into you for a few last pumps, and crying into the valley of your breasts. Despite the sun burning into the skin of your back, you’re certain you see stars.

You’re breathing each other in, foreheads pressed together as you recover and smelling the stench of salt and vigor. Seungcheol is still enchanted by you, your beauty, your voice, and he’s trying to capture your lips in a kiss, when you snap your head, almost startled, and peering out to a quarry of rocks at the end of the beach. Seungcheol is still feigning for your lips, thumbs rubbing circles in your waist, when he asks you: “Are ye okay? Ye hear sumthin?”

“No,” you breathed, hesitantly ripping your eyes from the rock. You smile at him, and he leans in and you let him, but only for a peck. You’re pulling away, even when he chases your lips and whines. You giggle, suddenly slipping his dick out of you and laughing even harder when he bends over from the sensitivity.

“Come back, Y/n,” he cries softly and you’re falling standing up in the sand, just in front of the water, beautiful and stark naked and glowing in the sun. “You come to me,” you tease, but without hesitation Seungcheol scrambles to his feet to follow after you. He stops when he’s standing right in front of you again, eyes big and soulful and full of so much love for you. “I’m here,” he announces in a whisper.

“Come with me into the sea, Seungcheol,” you pout and bite your lip at him. “I can’t be here.”

“But-”

“No! It’s not safe up here. I have to go back in the water,” you make big eyes and run a hand up his big, muscular arm. “But you can come with.. My necklace can turn you into a mermaid, too..”

“Really?” he whispers, grabbing your hands and squeezing tight, simply overjoyed. He’s too dazed from his orgasm to realize what you’re asking him to leave behind. All he wants is you. You intertwine your fingers with his.

“Yeah,” you take a step back into the white foaming water, and once again your necklace begins glowing, so intense that Seungcheol once more has to close his eyes.

When they open again you’re lying in the water, still mostly out of it, and your bottom half is gone, replaced by the glittering scaly tail he saw before. You were so plump, so pretty, the way your tits bunched up in the sand.

“Help me, Seungcheol, push me into the water again,” you request weakly, arms flexing as you try to unstuck yourself from the sand that grabs at your heavy tail. “When will you turn me into a mermaid?” he asks innocently, leaning down to help drag you, still stark naked and pale body glowing in the sun. “Just- just when I’m back in the water,” you mewl, strained.

When you stop feeling the seafloor drag against your sensitive tail, you tug Seungcheol to you harshly. He falls next to you, panicked. “H-Hey!”

He’s only gone under the surface for a moment, before he bops his head over the water, black hair sticking to his forehead. Spitting out the salty liquid, pouting. “That was mean,” he complains, treading in the shallow water. You giggle, thriving in the cool slick of the sea, having missed the way the water hugs you, how it caresses and kisses and loves. That was why you needed to pay it back.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you pout. “C’mere. Let me make it up to you.”

Seungcheol paddles himself into you and you hold him into your chest, his nose and eyelashes prodding softly at your skin. You sigh when he begins licking at the smooth skin, hands pawing your waist.

“It’s such a shame,” you frown, looking at how pretty he is, as his plump, pink lips mouth at your nipple, lashes long and pretty over his downturned eyes. He hums questioningly, not stopping his ministrations on your chest. One moment you’re gently pulling the wetted dark locks behind his ear; the next you’re fastening your arms around him, and kicking your tail.

You’re underwater. Seungcheol flinches at the initial movement, then begins thrashing in your arms, when he registers that you’re underwater. You’re ignoring how painful, how strong his hands are when he punches and wriggles in your hold, only swimming deeper, deeper, deeper. The sunlight above, fragmented from the waves surface of the water becomes sparser.

He’s even paler in the dark. You see him perfectly clear, tugging and kicking. Maybe there’s even a small hope in his chest - a hope, that this is just a little joke, and that just a moment from now, you’ll grab him by the hand and pull him back to the surface. That moment doesn’t come. Everytime he tries to push himself up, your hand is there to keep him down.

It feels like forever, and it’s more painful than any other time you’ve done it. He’s humming groans from the lack of air and when he finally gives out to gasp for air, he chokes out the most haunting noise you’ve ever heard, bubbles trailing up from his newly-dead corpse. Finally he’s still against your chest. You pull him away with a deep frown and see his face, fully relaxed now and drained of color. You hold onto him by his shoulders, hoping to memorize his face, hoping to remember him.

Then you’re releasing him and he floats downwards, hair dragging upwards, almost as if reaching for you.

He’s just another rock in the sand, you try to tell yourself, as his body is cast away to the deepest, darkest quarters of the ocean. But it doesn’t feel that way. As you swim away, humming your siren song and reverberating in the dark, bottomless depths, you can’t help but feel that this time, your victim was not just a sandcorn; he was a bright, shining pearl.

#seungcheol x reader #s.coups x reader #scoups x reader #svt seungcheol x reader #svt scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #s.coups smut #scoups smut #svt smut #svt x reader #svt x reader smut

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