#goodbye to the dolphins dream

[clownehonk]

internet horror girls :]

[baka-baru]

[legylou]

hedpatzzz p1

haha heres a quick headpat compilation..

(feel free 2 use these but pweez credit me for making them.. :3)

[characters/media/franchises/etc r not mine!!)

[tscfsr25w]

my lomando MV is finally out!!

hello lomando tumblr community.... please enjoy my nearly 6 months of work... (well moire like 2 because procrastination BUT....) :3

[wackypomko]

bruh she think she's him 😭 (jjba x iruka no yumede sayonara)

[rickyburrinho]

goodbye to the dolphin dreams

[flying-birdie]

wanna post these

u can also find these in Twitter if u know where I am(I don't often post in Deviantart)

Btw I'm very sad about Madotsuki's ending

[m1styang3l]

Having the time of my life on headcanon generators right now

[scaredmaggot]

イルカの夢でさようなら / Goodbye Dolphin's Dream

[tarczar]

iruka no yumede sayonara button pin!!!!!! [declutter ver. below]

isn't she lovely?

materials used in drawing: sakura micron pens, ohuhu markers, faber-castell colored pencils, prang watercolors, and posca paint markers

[inurnctdreams]

dress - m.l

idol!mark x idol fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, one shot, song fic (maybe?? i wouldn’t class it as one but there are references to lyrics and the song inspired the fic so??)

warnings: swearing, very suggestive (grinding, making out, over the clothes stuff but no explicit sex), alcohol, mentions of being tipsy/drunk (mark and reader have been drinking but everything is consensual), pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, mine/yours, dude (affectionate)), mdni

wc: 3.1k

notes: this entire thing stemmed from this gifset that gave me mark brainrot and made me think of the song dress by taylor swift

you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to be paying attention to the conversation happening in front of you right now. one of the executives for mbc… or was it kbs? whoever it was, they were important in the industry and they were talking at you and your group mates about your latest comeback stage… or maybe next year’s end of year concert that was already in the planning stages? you’d kind of stopped listening about five minutes ago. and it wasn’t your fault, really. you took your career seriously and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting anyone who was showing interest in your group by ignoring them usually, but you’d heard zhong chenle’s signature dolphin laugh across the room and that had been it. he’s here.

it would obviously be absolutely, outrageously scandalous for you to take off mid conversation, make a beeline for the group that had walked in and greet him like you want to. you have some modicum of self control and societal responsibility. and it isn’t a surprise, you knew he’d be here, you’d even gotten updates via text with a rough estimate of when he’d walk in. but you haven’t seen him in person in over three weeks and you’ve been looking forward to this night since the last time he’d kissed you goodbye at your door before sneaking back out of your dorm building to his car. 3am on a tuesday morning had turned out to be the only time the both of you were in the same city and without obligations in months. comebacks, tours, interviews. both of your lives were so hectic, it was difficult enough to get a moment to yourself to breathe, let alone together. now he’s here, in the same room as you, and you can’t do anything about it. the anticipation is killing you.

it hadn’t stopped you from pausing mid sentence when you’d registered his presence, though. disguising it with a cough and a modest apology, you’d finished your words and promptly stopped contributing to the conversation. smiling politely with your best poker face on as you tuned out of whatever was being discussed further and listened out across the room for any sign of him. chenle’s laugh is infectious, so donghyuck’s high pitched giggles soon joined in, audible above the rumble of laughter that had erupted from that corner of the room. but that was it. once the joke had worn off, the usual sounds of casual conversation replaced it, no doubt one of the older members’ doing as they reminded them of their surroundings. the first hour or so of award show after parties tend to be just the thing you’re ignoring: prominent figures in the industry congratulating and backhandedly complimenting idols whilst trying to promote something or take advantage of rookies with less media training by getting them to reveal secrets or agree to things.

once they’ve either gotten what they wanted or given up trying, they make their way out and the real party starts. realising you’re going to get nothing from the indiscernible voices in their direction, you start to work out how long you’ve been here, and how long you have to wait before it won’t be suspicious of you to drag your group over there to greet them. unfortunately, you’re interrupted midway through your mental calculations by something digging into your side. it’s gone before you even register the touch, light and inconspicuous. you glance down momentarily before meeting the eyes of your group mate, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“sorry, i didn’t quite catch that last bit.” your years of experience in the spotlight and exceptional training kick in immediately. you turn back to the middle-aged man in front of you with a practised innocent smile. “what were you saying?”

you smile graciously at the waitress as she hands you a flute of expensive champagne off of the shiny silver tray in her hand. taking a small sip, you school your face into a neutral expression to hide the wince at the acidic taste. you’ve never been much of a fan of the stuff, but it’s always handed out at events so you’ve gotten somewhat used to it in the years you’ve been legally allowed to drink at them. this is your second glass, and yet again you find yourself longing for the boring portion of the night to be over so the alcohol can start flowing more freely. you meet the eyes of your group mate and share a look, she hates champagne too. giggling to yourselves, you almost don’t notice the group of twenty-something boys heading in your direction, led by taeyong.

you’re immediately at full attention, straightening up from the pillar you’d been leaning against and placing your half full champagne flute on the nearest surface as you grin at your friends approaching. it’s almost comical, how the amount of people surrounding you in that moment feels like you’re looking for him in a crowd rather than just among his own group members. but then yuta moves to say hi to your group mate and there he is. god, he looks heavenly. the all black ensemble complimented by silver jewellery, his artfully tousled hair, the hint of gloss that have his lips looking so shiny and kissable it’s taking all of your entire being not to ravish him right here and now in the middle of this crowded room. not that he needs any of it to start up the roaring of butterflies in your stomach or trigger the giddy high you’re feeling. no, mark lee makes you feel like this every time he looks at you. barefaced, old t-shirt and glasses on with a hint of stubble starting to grow in as you sit next to him in the studio. bleary eyed, half asleep and hair sticking up as your phone alarm goes off on his bedside table. hoodie, snapback and face mask hiding most of his face as he slips into your practise room and catches your gaze in the mirror.

“y/n.” and everything just stops. the rest of the room falls away, the roar of conversation as your groups say hi is silenced, all you can see, hear, feel is him. the way he looks you up and down appreciatively that still makes your heart flutter despite it happening every time he sees you. he just has this way of making you feel like you’re the only one his attention would ever be captured by.

“hi, mark.” there’s a smile on your face, and you’re trying to make it your usual polite idol, public appearance smile, but really you have no control and you can feel the corners of your mouth turning up further against your will. you think that if you looked, his would be similar, probably that mischievous half-smirk he does that makes his dimple appear. and you love his dimple, but you’re currently captivated by the lovestruck look in his eyes. in that moment, you’re thankful you’d put your glass down because you would’ve dropped it. your hands shake as you force yourself to hold back from him. your groups are publicly very good friends, having known each other as trainees and debuting within a year of each other. you and mark have been best friends for years, and that’s all it was until the mutual pining hit its peak. there was something so beautiful about being in love with your best friend, with someone who understood how demanding your career was and already knew everything about you and who was still your best friend alongside being your boyfriend. around you, the rest of nct are giving your group mates half-hugs or shoulder nudges, but you don’t move to touch him, knowing you won’t let go if you initiate physical contact.

“y/n!” johnny rips you from your bubble. you have no idea how long you and mark were stood there, staring into each other’s eyes with that look on your faces, but it must’ve been long enough if someone’s intervened. the older idol pulls you into a short hug, but not before leaning down to murmur in your ear. “we know you guys are like, sickeningly in love, but would it kill you to not make it super obvious while there’s still cameras everywhere?”

oops.

“mark!” you whisper. or at least you hope you do, you’re pretty tipsy by this point in the evening. he just laughs, equally inebriated, and continues pulling you down the empty corridor, fingers intertwined. on a scale of zero to having your relationship exposed by dispatch come morning, sneaking off together a mere forty minutes after the industry execs had left the party is probably a solid deniable accusation. not exactly a great idea, but if anyone found out it wouldn’t be the end of the world, just carefully curated excuses in a statement and an earful from management. the first couple of doors he tries are locked, but third time seems to be the charm as you’re pulled into a room and plunged into darkness when the door clicks shut behind you.

“c’mere baby.” and you let go. all the pressure from being around so many people that could ruin your careers with one article, all the stolen glances across the room, all the secret smiles you share, all the patience that had been slowly wearing thin the longer you were in his proximity but not being able to do anything about it. it’s been been building all evening, and the dam finally breaks.

you practically throw yourself into his arms, winding your own around his neck as his wrap around your middle. he holds you to him so tight it hurts a little, but you’re probably slightly choking him with how strong your own grip is. the initial ‘holy shit you’re here and i can touch you without everyone looking’ moment passes and you both relax slightly. he still holds you close but it’s more grounding and comforting than anything. you bury your face into his neck and just let yourself breathe him in. his scent, the underlying notes of mark and home underneath the fancy cologne. the steady, comforting beat of his pulse against you. his arms are your safe place and being held by him makes everything better, even if just a little. you can’t count the number of times you’ve been exhausted or stressed or upset or scared or angry and all he’s had to do is pull you into him. you’ve cried on him, ranted into his chest and listened to him murmur words of encouragement and reassurance and love into your ear. there’s no other place you’d ever want to be. and even when you couldn’t physically be with him, he’s been there on facetime, or phone call, or over text. you’ve done the same for him without hesitation more times than you can imagine. he’s your person, your best friend, your soulmate, your everything, your one and only, your lifeline. you feel him press firm kisses into your hair and smile against his throat, snuggling into him happily.

“missed you.” you mumble. the alcohol in your system is amplifying the giddy feeling that’s thrumming through your entire being. all semblance of public image and self-control come crumbling down in front of him like always until all that’s left is the unguarded, most raw versions of yourselves laid bare for each other. he squeezes your hips and pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. you’ve adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his facial features and that same unfiltered, pure love is staring back at you from earlier but now he’s unabashedly grinning at you and his cheeks are flushed with happiness (and alcohol). his dimple is out in full force as he giggles right back at you. this is your mark, the one reserved for you and you only.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he whispers. “wish we could stay in here forever, just us.”

“i know.” you bite your lip, and his eyes zero in on your mouth. “wait, where even are we?”

“i don’t care.” and just as quickly as the wholesome, lovesick feeling had flooded you, the arousal and want flares up, threatening to consume you the second he grabs your face and claims your lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. he walks you both backwards until you’re pressed up against the door, gripping the sides of his jacket both for stability and to satiate the overwhelming need to get your hands on him. you whine against his lips as one of his hands slips into your hair and pulls gently, letting your hands roam under his jacket all over his waist and up his chest until they’re holding his shoulders. you use the leverage to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to match his heated, open-mouth kisses with the same carnal energy. he groans, the sound making you shiver and adding to the warmth pooling in your abdomen. the hand that’s not in your hair drops down to slide around you and grab your hip, pulling you even closer so you’re flush against his body. the need for oxygen is beginning to grow, but you’re addicted to the floaty, lightheaded feeling that comes along with it. it soon becomes too much, though, the both of you breathing heavily as you break away for air, but he wastes no time in leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, each one hotter and more filthy than the last.

“mark.” you whimper, turning your head to the side to grant him more access to your throat. he nips at your pulse point softly, careful not to leave a visible mark, but it makes you gasp and arch into him further all the same.

“my pretty girl.” he pants against your skin. “all mine.”

“mm-hmm.” you agree. “yours.” and you are, fully and irrevocably his in every sense of the word. you thread your own hands into his hair and pull his face back up to kiss him again. you could spend forever kissing him and never be satisfied, never get bored. it doesn’t matter than you know him better than you know yourself, or that you’ve spent hours in this exact same position with him already. there seems to be this endless need inside you for mark lee that started when you met him. you were kids back then, but you always craved his presence, his attention. over the years it’s developed, but the need for him has never wavered, even after he became yours.

“been thinking about this all night, you look incredible.” he confesses between kisses, both hands dropping from around you to wander under your dress and start caressing your thighs. his touch is electrifying, leaving trails of fire in his wake as he slides his hands up to grab your ass and squeeze it. the subsequent jolt of excitement has you whimpering against him and his grip moves to the crease where your ass and thighs meet. he kneads the soft flesh there sensually before squeezing again, and that’s all the warning you get before he lifts you up and presses you back against the door in one fluid motion without even breaking the kiss. you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing against his back. not that you think he’ll drop you, it’s never happened before, you just use the leverage to pull him in until you’re happily trapped between the cold, hard surface of the door and your boyfriend’s warm, inviting body. you both groan as his hips roll into yours. whether it was a result of you pulling him in or an intentional movement on his part is unknown, but the way he bites your lip and grinds his crotch into yours again is definitely not an accident. with you now supporting yourself, he’s free to bring one hand up to your chest, groping at your tits through your dress. his hips haven’t stopped moving, and you can feel the way he’s quickly hardening against your underwear. whilst the sensation is incredible, it snaps you out of the trance you’ve been in.

“babe.” you moan. “mark, baby, we can’t.”

“you mean we shouldn’t.” he smirks.

“no, i mean someone is going to notice we’re gone soon, if they haven’t already, and come looking for us.” you counter. he stops moving and looks up at you, the fog of arousal starting to clear from his expression. he sighs exasperatedly, knowing you’re right.

“fine.” he lowers you back to your feet. you know you both probably no longer resemble the perfect idol look your stylists and hair and makeup artists crafted before you decided to sneak off for a tipsy make out session in one of the back rooms, so you feel around for a light switch. your eyes squeeze shut as the room is flooded with light, blinking a couple times to readjust your vision. a giggle escapes you as you take in how adorably disheveled mark looks, hair tousled, collar rumpled and the pink hue of your lipstick smudged around his lips. although, you’re sure you look pretty similar.

you spend a couple minutes making yourselves look presentable again before you rejoin the party. “i should probably go first, give you a couple of extra minutes to calm down.” you tease, eyeing the tent in his pants.

“i bet if i checked, you’d still be soaking wet for me.” he retorts, eyes darkening slightly, sending a flush of heat straight to your core. he’s not lying. you take a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door and stepping out into the corridor. you turn back to your boyfriend.

“behave.”

“the rest of this party’s gonna be torture, having to watch you go around looking like that.” he looks you up and down appreciatively again, though this time it’s a lot less innocent. you’re so glad that your schedules have calmed down enough to allow you more time together for the next month or so, the last couple months without being able to see him properly have been rough.

“well you can show me how much you like it when we get back to yours, later.”

“i plan to.”

“good. ‘cause i only bought this dress so you could take it off.” you smirk as the door shuts behind you.

“not helping, dude!” his voice is muffled as you begin walking back towards the party, giggling to yourself as you go. “i hate you!”

“no you don’t!”

[clownehonk]

イルカの夢でさようなら

[ahmedfreepalestine]

Tales from the Heart of the Siege: We Are the Ones Who Remain"💔

A life of tragedy, exhaustion and death.😭

The bombs of death still rain down on us relentlessly. Homes are crushed, lives are extinguished, and the dream of living in peace fades away under a war of extermination that spares neither the young nor the old. In northern Gaza, the invasion continues to steal life from our hearts, and hunger drains what remains of our bodies, already exhausted by pain.

Please support and donate🙏🍉

Every morning, we wake to the sound of explosions, like a dreadful symphony that never leaves our ears. The fighter jets hover over our heads, casting shadows of death. We live each moment waiting for what comes next, not knowing if it will bring more death or another loss of dreams and loved ones. We write from the heart of destruction, we live in the embrace of rubble, our souls still awaiting salvation, but we stand firm.

Despite every attempt to displace us and break our spirits, we are still here. We are not refugees on our own land, and we will not leave this country no matter how hard the circumstances become. We have endured hunger, endured loss, and said painful goodbyes to our loved ones, and every day we continue to bid farewell to those we love. We are the ones who remain, clinging to this land as if it is part of our very souls.

They do not control our destiny, for the pain they intended to break us with has instead built our unyielding resilience. We do not merely live here as others do—we fight to survive every moment. We escape death every second because this land is all we have. It is our identity and the undeniable right that cannot be bargained away.

Today, northern Gaza stands proud, like a rock that refuses to break. They may believe that death will force us to leave, but they do not understand that we have chosen life on this land as our eternal path. We do not choose to flee; we have chosen to live here despite everything.

We are the ones who remain, and we are the ones who will continue. This land is our blood and soul, and no one will uproot us from it. We resist not only for survival but for dignity, for honor, and for our right to exist.

Please donate, help and highlight my campaign. That's very kind of you.🌸💔🇵🇸🔴🙏

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[dragonflylady77]

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨

@harringrove-relay-race

Read it on Ao3

I took the 500 words minimum word limit and blew it out of the water, so... enjoy.

(unbeta'd)

***********

I wanna do everything with you

the coffee shop au x college au x enemies to lovers x there was only one bed fic you never knew you needed... (also, with basketball!)

***********

“Out of the way, pretty boy.”

Steve grits his teeth and presses himself closer to the coffee machine so Hargrove has room to walk past him. Why the guy decided to bring in another box of coffee grounds during rush hour when there are three full bags in the cupboard already, Steve has no idea. 

The Californian import is probably doing it to mess around with Steve as usual. Steve sighs as he gets back to making the next drink on his list. As much as he has enjoyed working at The Dolphin Café over the summer, he can’t wait for fall to arrive and classes to start. He won’t have to see Hargrove again after that.

He isn’t sure why Hargrove has it in for him like that, he’s barely talked to the guy since he started. Not on purpose, but they usually have different shifts and the way Hargrove stares at him sometimes when they’re working together makes Steve uneasy. Makes him feel things he’d rather not think about.

Billy Hargrove is hot and he knows it and he seems to loooooove the attention from everyone, regardless of gender. Golden curls, a killer smile, a sculpted chest he keeps exposing by not buttoning up his shirt, no matter how many times their manager reminds him he should and jeans so tight they look painted on. Yeah, the guy is the full package.

Too bad the full package is also arrogant as fuck and determined to get on Steve’s last nerve every shift. So Steve takes deep breaths and smiles even when he wants to scream, and he focuses on filling orders and the end of summer. 

He is counting the days until he can see Robin again, once she’s back from her trip to Germany. He’s really missed his best friend all summer and he knows there is no way his dad would have agreed to their deal without her. 

Steve will always be grateful to Robin for helping him craft a proposition Richard Harrington agreed on. They’d even got a lawyer involved and his father had signed off on it, promising he’d pay Steve an allowance while he’s in college if he managed to get accepted and hold a job all summer beforehand. 

Steve knows how lucky he is to have gotten in, even if it’s on a basketball scholarship. The look on his father’s face had been worth all the extra work he’d put in. The knowledge Richard Harrington has lost this particular battle against his only son, whom he deems a complete idiot, is the cherry on top.

Now Steve just needs to survive the last couple of weeks at the coffee shop, with Hargrove breathing down his neck at every opportunity. Then he’ll be free, and in college, and he can hang out with Robin again.

***

“Tell me more about this guy,” Robin asks the second she gets in his car, her bags filling the backseat and the trunk of the Beamer. 

Steve instantly regrets offering her a ride to her dorm. It’s a long drive back to Chicago and his last shift is still fresh in his mind. Well, what happened when he’d clocked out for the last time anyway. Steve said goodbye to the manager who reminded him he could still come back for weekend shifts. Steve once again declined his offer and told him he was done with the Dolphin Café, as staff anyway. Hargrove was behind the counter and stared at him for the duration of that entire conversation, his eyes full of what looked like hurt. Steve glanced away and walked out without a word.

“You know as much as I do already, why must we spend more time on the subject?” Steve knows he’s whining but fuck, it’s not enough that he spent all summer working with the guy, now his best friend wants to talk about him as well? Steve is so fucking glad he never told her about the dreams. No one, EVER, needs to find out about those. 

“Because, dingus,” Robin starts, cutting him that look of hers that means she knows something Steve doesn’t. It’s a look he’s really familiar with by now. 

He sighs. “What? Spit it out, Rob. It’s a long drive and I’d rather talk about something else.”

Robin snorts and Steve glares.

“The dingus doth protest too much, methinks,” she says and Steve groans.

"Stop it."

“Oh come on, Steve. From everything you’ve told me about this guy, it’s clear to me you have a crush on him and I th—”

“What? What the fuck, Robin?” Steve swerves a bit from the surprise but manages to keep the car in the appropriate lane. “Leaving aside the fact that I am, you know, straight, how exactly did you get to that conclusion?”

“Really? Did you not hear yourself over the past three months? Hargrove this, and Hargrove that, you haven't stopped talking about him.”

“Because he’s been a pain in my ass since the day he started at work! He’s constantly in my face, calling me names and making a nuisance of himself.” Steve is getting worked up, because why can’t Robin see the problem? He takes a few calming breaths, and focuses on the road.

“He’s pulling your pigtails, dingus.”

“What? No! He hates me, and I didn’t even do anything.”

Robin shakes her head and Steve doesn’t need to sneak a glance her way to know she’s rolling her eyes. 

“Steve…” 

“No.” There is no way. Is there? 

“Fine. Enjoy staying in Egypt, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”

“Whatever.”

Steve is glad that Robin drops it then and moves on to talking about the classes she is gonna be taking when college starts.

***

Billy is stacking the latest batch of lemon blueberry muffins on the display stand when he hears a familiar voice. He glances up to scan the sparse Sunday afternoon crowd and spots Harrington walking towards one of the booths in the back.

He’s chatting animatedly with a girl Billy hasn’t seen before. She’s got light brown hair and big eyes and talks with her hands a lot. Harrington must have said something stupid because the girl punches him in the shoulder and he laughs it off, while rubbing the spot she hit. Their behavior gives off a sibling vibe, which does nothing to quell the longing in Billy’s chest.

They sit on opposite sides and the girl looks up at the menu on the big boards behind the counter. Harrington sneaks a few glances around and Billy looks away before they make eye contact. 

It’s a surprise to see Harrington again after he announced his departure a week ago. Billy is still getting over the feeling of betrayal upon finding out his secret crush was leaving, as he was walking out the door. 

He thought he’d have more time to try to turn the stupid rivalry into some kind of friendship. But he always seems to rub Harrington the wrong way, no matter what he says. From the day Billy started at The Dolphin Café at the end of July, he’d tried to make friends but Harrington wanted no bar of it. 

Billy finishes placing the last muffin on the stand and puts the dome cover on top in time for Harrington’s friend to come up to the counter to order.

“Hello, welcome to the Dolphin Café. What can I get you?” he smiles as he asks and the girl smiles back, her eyes dropping to his name tag for a second.

“Hey Billy. I’m Robin. The best friend. Can I get two of those delicious looking muffins please, a cappuccino and a mocha with four sugars and extra whipped cream.”

“Ah, yes, the Harrington special. Coming right up.”

The girl snorts and Billy chances a glance in Harrington’s way. He is reclining in his booth, glaring at them, and looks away the second Billy’s eyes meet his.

“Is that an actual item on the menu or a name you made up just for him?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.

Billy feels his face warm up and he turns towards the coffee machine, praying Robin can’t tell he’s blushing. He busies himself making the drinks she ordered, mulling over his answer before things get too weird.

“Um…” He shrugs, sprinkling cinnamon on her cappuccino. “I mean, I did ask Hop to add it to the menu as a legacy item since Steve left, but he declined.”

“Aw, my poor dingus is not special enough to make the menu. He’ll be heartbroken.” The smirk on her face and the tone in her voice belie her words and it’s Billy’s turn to snort.

“Pretty sure he hated this place so…” Billy places the drinks on a tray, with the muffins Robin ordered. “You go sit down, I’ll bring them over.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

Billy follows Robin back to the booth and carefully unloads the contents of the tray on the table. He manages to not look at Harrington while he does but he can feel him watching his every move. It’s unsettling and rekindles the fire in Billy’s chest. 

Fuck.

“Thanks.” The frosty clipped tone does things that it shouldn’t to Billy’s insides and he focuses on Robin instead.

“Enjoy. Sing out if you need anything else.”

“Thank Billy,” she says again with a grin.

With a nod, Billy leaves, stopping to clear a table and wipe it clean on his way back to the counter. He needs a smoke but it’s a while yet until his break. A loud group walks in and he is happy to be kept busy. He still notices when Harrington and Robin leave and wonders if that was the last time he’s ever gonna see him.

***

A week later, Billy walks into the gym for the first basketball practice. His advisor was surprised he’d picked a sport as an elective, he’s an English Lit major after all. Makes Billy want to cackle really. Seems people either think he’s a meathead and want him for his body, or they’re shocked to learn there’s more to books and case studies in his life.

He steps around the corner in the changing room and a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Keeping his eyes on the locker numbers, he locates his and heads over, dumping his gym bag on the bench in front of his assigned locker. 

“Hargrove?” Harrington’s voice reaches him, surprise and dismay thick in his tone. “What the fuck?”

Billy glances at him and nods once in acknowledgment before focusing on getting changed. He can hear Harrington muttering about him to the guy he’s standing with a few feet away but he manages to tune them out. Force of habit, really. Growing up with Neil Hargrove has taught him not to react and he has become really good at it.

The coach walks in and sends them into the gym to do some laps as a warm up. After some drills to see where they’re at, he splits them into two teams. Billy plays skins, and to his great delight, Harrington ends up on the opposing team. 

They’re both point guards which means Billy can get up close to try and stop Harrington when he gets the ball. He is thrilled to discover that Harrington is as competitive as he is on the court, even if he seems to have trouble staying upright when Billy crashes into him to steal the ball.

Billy offers Harrington a hand, half surprised when the other guy takes it, and he leans down close, the pendant around his neck nearly touching Harrington’s chin.

“You were moving your feet. Plant them next time, draw a charge!” He lets go of Harrington’s hand, his fingers tingling from the contact and steps over him to go back to his side of the court as they reset the play. He feels Harrington’s eyes on his back as he walks away but forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to get his breathing under control.

Fuck, that was exhilarating. Billy knows he needs to be careful how close he gets to Harrington because basketball shorts don’t hide much and he doesn’t need the embarrassment or the rumors that would follow him like the plague.

Once training is over, he showers in a corner as fast as he can and gets out of there, glancing at Harrington on his way out. He nearly walks into the door jamb when he clocks the hair on the guy’s chest and manages to dress in record time, despite the semi he’s now sporting.

Tight jeans conceal anything, thank fuck for small mercies. He shoves his gym clothes in his bag and hightails it out of there like hellhounds are on his tracks.

Once in his car, he allows himself to breathe, closing his eyes and letting himself remember the literal fur covering Harrington’s fucking chest. He’d give pretty much anything to run his fingers through that.

Billy groans, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve some of the pressure and turns the engine on. He’s got a shift at the Dolphin in ten minutes and he can’t afford to be late. Jerking off to the memories of Harrington naked in the shower will have to wait.

***

“One Harrington special!” Robin announces as she puts down Steve’s drink on the table, before flopping on the chair across from him.

“Shhhh, Robin, we’re in a library!” Steve whispers and Robin rolls her eyes.

“No one cares, dingus.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, watching Robin get her laptop out of her bag. He frowns. “What did you call my drink just now?”

“Oh, um, the Harrington special. That’s what Billy called it the other day when we were at the coffee shop.”

“I’m sorry. Billy?” Steve stares at her and she shrugs. “Robin, why are you on a first name basis with that guy?”

“Cos he’s nice? And funny? And, like, really really clever?”

“What. The. Fuck?” Steve has no words. He can’t comprehend the betrayal twisting in his gut right now. 

Robin sighs. “He’s in my Romantic Poetry class and also my Literature of the Commonwealth class. He’s also in my Creative Writing Workshop class and we may or may not be working on a project together. Don’t be mad.”

“Robin. I… you… what?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I know you’d be weird about it.”

“Only because you seem to have swapped me for my fucking nemesis.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic. You’ve been hating the guy for months for no reason.”

“Robin! I told you what he did. How he was with me. All summer when I worked at the Dolphin! If anything, he’s the one who hates me.”

Robin gives him that look that says he’s being a giant whiny baby (her words) and Steve sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Robin won’t listen or take him seriously anyway.

“Steve, let me ask you this,” Robin starts, and he can tell she’s trying to be patient with him. “Why would a guy who hates you name a drink after you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know how his brain works, or why he called me pretty boy and sweetheart for three months straight. Makes no sense to me.”

“Really?” 

Okay now she’s giving him the ‘oh can you so fucking dense’ look and Steve decides enough is enough. 

“You know what, whatever. I’m gonna go.” He closes his laptop and starts gathering his notes. His statistics assignment can wait. He already got an extension anyway. “Need to pack for my trip. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I need to go to bed early or I’ll miss the bus.”

“Ah yes, the basketball trip. Billy mentioned it at our study session last night.”

“Last night? That’s why you blew me off for movie night?” Steve is getting more pissed off by the minute. He closes his backpack and grabs his coffee, though he’s not sure he wants to drink it anymore.

“Did you miss the part where I said we are working on a group project for a class?” Robin asks, leaning forward on her elbows, one eyebrow raised. He hates that she can do the eyebrow thing and he can’t.

“He better keep his hands to himself or I will punch him.”

“Yeah well, you can relax with your macho bullshit, cos he knows about me not liking boys.”

“You told him?”

“It came up,” Robin replies, mysterious as ever.

“Fine. Whatever. You know what? Keep your little secret rendez-vous and your brainiacs study sessions that I will never understand. I’ll see you when I get back, unless Hargrove kills me while we’re away.”

He leaves the library in a huff, Robin’s cackle following him out the door.

The next morning, Steve gets to the bus with two minutes to spare. He shoves his bag in the luggage compartment before stepping onto the bus, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. Of course he slept through his stupid alarm and now he owes Robin, again, because she called him to check he was awake.

He spots Hargrove at the back of the bus, with Tommy Hagan and Jason Carver, so he sits at the front and keeps his head turned towards the window.

They get to the school where they’re playing that afternoon and Coach gets them to run drills and warm-ups for a couple of hours. Steve manages to stay away from Hargrove as much as possible, though Hargrove seems to have dialed down the hostilities and only shoves him once.

Soon enough it’s time for the game and they get stuck into it, the instructions yelled by Coach taking precedence over everything else.

It’s a hard fought battle, the opposition is really good, but their team prevails at the last moment, thanks to Hargrove. 

Finally, it’s over, Steve is exhausted but happy. He ends up next to Hargrove for the team huddle and for once he doesn’t mind being this close. They’re all riding the high of beating a good team and it’s a heady feeling.

After they’ve all showered and filed back onto the bus, they make their way to the motel. Once they park there, Coach announces that due to budget issues, they’ve had to reduce the number of rooms they could book and they’re all gonna have to bunk with each other.

A collective groan travels down the length of the bus at the revelation. Steve barely pays attention. He doesn’t care who he gets told to bunk with as long as it’s not Hargrove, and he’s pretty sure the other guy feels the same and will ask to stay with Tommy or Carver.

“Right, lads, me and Ms Ross decided that the easiest and most fair way was to lump you alphabetically.”

When Steve hears that, he knows he’s fucked. Because he knows the names of every guy on the team and he’ll either be bunking with Tommy, who he hasn’t talked to since ninth grade, or Hargrove.

Fuck.

Sure enough, a moment later, Coach says Hargrove’s name then his, and a room number. They get off the bus in pairs and grab their bags, with a reminder that they’re expected to be back on the bus at 8am the next morning. 

In the lobby, most of the guys on the team arrange to meet at the diner across the road once they’ve dumped their bags in their rooms. Ignoring the noise, Steve gets the key from the front desk and heads down to room 7. 

He gets into the room and stops in his tracks when he sees the bed. As in, singular. 

One bed.

It’s a big bed, but it’s only one bed. 

Fuck.

With a sigh, Steve drops his bag at his feet and he’s about to turn around to go back to the desk to demand a different room when he hears footsteps behind him. Clearly his day can get worse.

“Hey, Harrington,” Hargrove says as he enters the room, “what are you doing standing here in the dark?” He flicks the lights on and drops his bag on the desk to the side.

Steve watches as he takes in the large bed taking most of the space. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” 

“It’s okay.” Hargrove shrugs then unzips his bag and starts looking through it for something.

Steve turns his head to look at him. “It’s okay? Nothing about this is okay.”

“Oh my god, dude. Don’t freak out because we need to share a bed. Jesus. We can put some pillows down the middle of the mattress if you’re that stressed about it.”

“I’m not stressed about it!” Steve is quick to say, earning himself a look of disbelief from Hargrove.

“Whatever. You going to the diner with the rest of the team?” Hargrove asks as he heads to the ensuite, holding some clothes and his toiletry bag.

“No, I… I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” The door shuts with a soft click and Steve closes his eyes. He needs to talk to Robin but he knows she is out on a date with some girl she met at work.

Once Hargrove has left the room to get dinner, Steve eats a protein bar he found in his bag then gets ready for bed.

He slips between the covers, ready to leave this day behind. He makes a point to not pile pillows between the two sides of the bed. No need to give Hargrove more ammunition. 

***

Billy sighs and checks his watch again. He’s been staring at the ceiling for two hours and is no closer to falling asleep than he was when he got back to the room. Less, even. Because he was sleepy after dinner and not in a mood to get drunk with his teammates, on beer purchased for them by Carver’s boyfriend, the only one old enough to legally buy alcohol.

Billy was surprised to see no pillows separating the two sides of the bed when he walked in. Even more surprised to find Steve fast asleep. 

He gives up and sits up, hazarding a glance at Steve. He’s lying on his side, the light coming from the crack in the curtains giving a golden shine to his hair. He looks peaceful and soft and Billy would love nothing more than to cuddle up to him and feel his arms around his back.

He runs through his conversation with Robin for the four hundredth time since it happened three days ago. He was surprised to see her in three of his classes but glad they got paired up for the Creative Writing assignment. From the interaction he had with her at the Dolphin last week, she seemed quick and witty and that hunch had proved right. She’d also clocked him as queer faster than anyone beside Heather ever had and her coming out to him had reassured him immensely. 

He isn’t a hundred percent on board with her assessment of Steve’s feelings towards him though. That seems a bit hard to swallow considering the past three months, but she is Steve’s best friend, so Billy figures she might know what she’s talking about.

He’s about to turn the side lamp on and grab his book since he can’t fucking sleep when Steve lets out a whimper. Frozen on the spot, Billy listens, in case Steve is having some kind of nightmare he’ll need to wake him up from (Robin mentioned something about that).

But then the guy starts moaning, a low raspy sound, that causes Billy’s ears to heat up as his sweatpants get a bit tight in the crotch. Billy hears the rustling of the bedding, and Steve doing some kind of squirming that has Billy immediately on edge.

It only gets worse when Steve starts muttering. It’s not really words at first, and Billy rolls over so he’s closer, and can hear properly. He regrets it a minute later.

“P-please… Don’t stop, please,” Steve mutters and Billy bites his fist to stop from making a sound.

This is not happening… 

Billy can’t believe he has to lie there silently while Steve is having a fucking sex dream. He moves away and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Steve, hands balled into fists at his sides, willing his dick to go down because this is beyond pathetic. Yes, he has a crush on the guy, but getting off to his sex dream feels one step too far.

Yet, Steve keeps making goddamn sex noises, and apparently willing whoever he’s dreaming about to keep doing whatever they’re doing to him in his mind and Billy is two seconds away from having a cold shower at three in the morning when suddenly he hears his name.

“Billy… Billy, please…” 

Oh fuck.

His fingers dig into his thighs with the effort it takes to not touch his dick and get some relief. He can’t breathe, there is no air in the room, only Steve’s moans and whimpers and his desperate pleas.

And Billy knows it doesn’t mean anything, okay? He knows that Steve can’t stand the sight of him, no matter what Robin said the other night. And there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he’s just bad at flirting with a guy he actually cares about. Maybe there’s just something about him that Steve just can’t stand and it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t stop his brain from sending images of what he could be doing to Steve with his fingers and his mouth and, fuck, he really needs to stop thinking about that or he’s gonna blow his load in his pants like a fucking twelve year old.

He doesn’t remember ever being so hard as he is in that moment, when Steve’s breath quickens and he keeps saying Billy’s name over and over and over.

Billy needs to do something, either pretend to sleep or lock himself in the bathroom, because there is no way Steve will react favorably once he’s awake. He’ll either pretend it didn’t happen or be angry at Billy for no reason, as usual.

Unable to listen any longer, he races to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock before he turns the shower on to cover any noise he’s about to make. Leaning against the counter with one hand, he reaches inside his pants and wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the contact.

He is barely aware of the movements of his hand, his mind still in the room, in that bed, imagining a hand that’s not his touching him instead. He knows he won’t last long because he’s too keyed up from listening to Steve. He squeezes the head of his cock, and groans at the feeling, his knuckles turning white on the counter.

Billy closes his eyes, pretending Steve is there with him. He can almost feel Steve’s lips on his neck, Steve’s body against his as he jerks him off… The visual is so clear, so much what he craves, and he’s so close now, he can almost taste his orgasm.

“Billy?”

Steve’s voice reaches him through the door and wraps around him and he comes with a grunt he can’t silence, making a mess in his underwear. Panting and trying to catch his breath before his legs give out, he washes his hands and wishes he’d have taken the time to get undressed and step into the shower.

Steve is knocking on the door now. “Are you done? Dude, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Gimme a minute!” Billy’s voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears and with the shower going. He shuts the water off and unlocks the door, steeling himself to face Steve before he opens the door.

Steve’s hair is a mess and Billy forces his eyes to a spot to the side of Steve’s shoulder as he pushes past him and into the room.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice stops him in his tracks and he turns around slowly, taking in Steve who’s standing in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the light in the bathroom. Billy doesn’t remember Steve using his actual name before tonight, he’s always called him Hargrove.

“Yeah?” Billy asks softly. He’s still feeling wired from the whole thing and doesn’t have it in him to maintain the usual bravado in front of Steve. He is not sure what to think when Steve steps closer until he’s standing a foot away. Billy makes sure to keep his eyes up, his gaze following the trail of beauty spots on Steve’s shoulder and up his neck.

He is not so out of it that he doesn’t notice Steve’s eyes tracking down then back up, snagging somewhere on Billy’s naked chest then his mouth before Steve locks eyes with him. The warm spot in Billy’s gut starts boiling.

“Um, Robin said… um Robin has this theory, and… and I think she might be right.”

Billy sighs. He just wants to clean up and get into bed but Steve has never looked at him that way before so his curiosity gets the better of him. “What theory?”

“About me and how I’m not actually, you know… straight.”

“Okay…” Bill isn’t sure what to say. He’s not exactly surprised, in light of the dream Steve was having not that long ago.

“She said something else too.”

“Oh?”

Steve moves forward and he’s so close now that Billy can feel the heat from his body. He doesn’t know where to look or what to think. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and realizes his mistake when all he can smell is Steve and it’s overwhelming. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Steve asks, his tone sounding more assured now. “You know, Robin reckons you have a crush on me.”

Billy chokes back a moan and bites his lip. Steve’s eyes immediately zero in on that and Billy shudders.

“What are you doing, pretty boy?” Billy whispers, his heart in his throat.

“What feels right,” Steve whispers back, his face so close he’s all Billy can see. “Stop me if you don’t wa—”

Billy breaches the gap and slants his lips onto Steve’s, groaning when Steve tangles both of his in Billy’s curls to pull him closer. Steve’s lips are softer than Billy imagined and he grabs Steve by the waist, using Steve’s needy moan to slide his tongue in Steve’s mouth.

The kiss goes on, hands grabbing and pulling, as they stumble backwards towards the bathroom, bodies pressed close from shoulder to toe. 

“Fuck meeee…” Billy whispers when they break to breathe, blinking to adjust to the light. He feels like he’s seen God and can’t get enough of Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

“Maybe later,” Steve replies with a grin, and Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips at the thought.

“Steve…”

“You know,” Steve starts, moving away to turn the shower on, his eyes never leaving Billy’s even when he takes his shirt off and drops it on the floor, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name.”

“Yeah?” Billy stares as Steve walks back to where he’s standing by the countertop, his eyes straying to Steve’s waistband hanging low on his hips before moving back up.

“Yeah…” Steve stops in front of him. “I wonder how loud I can make you say it…”

Billy gasps then loses the ability to make words when Steve drops his pants. Then Steve hooks his fingers in the waistband of Billy’s sweatpants, a question in the tilt of his head. Billy nods in agreement, and Steve slides his hands around then down, over the curve of his ass, fingers splayed, before he pulls Billy’s pants and underwear down.

“Wanna shower with me?” Steve asks and that shakes Billy out of his trance.

He steps out of his clothes and slides his hands around Steve’s waist, pulling him up, and laughs happily when Steve curses even as he wraps his arms and legs around him.

“Baby, I wanna do everything with you.”

He steps under the warm spray with his precious cargo, pressing him into the wall and finding his mouth again.

*****

Please look forward to the lovely/wonderful/amazing work from the next contributor, @harringrovest.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

The Siren Files

Robert Fischer x F! Siren Reader

Summary: Robert goes on his yacht at night to clear his head, while out on the water he notices something strange swimming in the water.

Wordcount: 2.1k

As Robert stood on the deck of his yacht, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen on the calm waters, he noticed something unusual swimming near the vessel. His eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the shadowy figure moving gracefully beneath the surface.

"That's... peculiar," he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. He took a cautious step closer to the edge, gripping the railing tightly. "Could it be a dolphin? No, it's too... human-like."

A shiver ran down his spine as the figure surfaced briefly, revealing what appeared to be a woman's face, serenely beautiful yet hauntingly otherworldly. His heart skipped a beat. "A siren? This can't be real," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite his skepticism, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, drawn in by the creature's enigmatic presence.

"Is this some kind of dream?" he pondered aloud, the surreal nature of the experience reminding him of the strange events he had encountered before. "No, it feels too vivid."

Robert hesitated, torn between his logical mind and the tantalizing allure of the unknown. "I need to know," he finally decided, disappearing into the yachts helm; turning the flood lights on. As the bright beams sink into the water, the figure disappeared, leaving only ripples in its wake. "Damn it," he cursed softly, his pulse quickening. "Was it trying to lure me in, or was it just curious?" His voice trembled slightly as he considered the implications.

The siren's call echoes across the water, a hauntingly beautiful voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The sound is disorienting, bouncing off the waves and the hull of the yacht, making it impossible to pinpoint the source. The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the calm sea, the yacht gently rocking with the waves. Robert stands on the deck, gazing out over the water; watching and waiting.

Suddenly, the water ripples, and with a powerful, fluid motion, the siren leaps from the depths. Her body arcs gracefully through the air, shimmering scales catching the moonlight and creating a cascade of sparkling droplets. Her long, flowing hair streams behind her like a banner, and her eyes, reflecting the light, seem to lock onto Fischer's with an almost magnetic intensity. As she reaches the peak of her jump, her form is both elegant and otherworldly, combining the lithe movements of a dolphin with the captivating allure of a mythical creature. She twists slightly, her tail flicking in a final flourish before she plunges back into the water with barely a splash, the surface closing over her as if she had never been there.

“Come to me Robert. The water is warm, and all your pain will wash away..”

He freezes the siren's words echoing in his mind. His grip on the railing tightens, knuckles turning white. His eyes are wide, filled with a mix of fear, longing, and disbelief. His voice is shaky, barely above a whisper.

“How..how do you know my name?”

The voice is more insistent, gentle yet compelling. "I know your heart, Robert. I can ease your burden. Just come to me."

He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of enchantment. His heart races, torn between the seductive promise and his ingrained caution.

"This isn't real. It's some kind of illusion. I can't trust you."

Her tone becomes more soothing, almost maternal. "You don't have to be afraid. Let go of your pain. Let go of your doubts. The water will cleanse you."

Steeling himself against the siren's sorrowful cries. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

Her anger giving way to a deep, sorrowful wail that echoes across the water. "Then go, Robert Fischer. Go with your pain, and remember this night when you rejected what could have been your salvation."

Turning to leave, his heart heavy but his resolve firm. “Goodbye.. for now”

The next day dawns, the sun painting the sky with hues of pink and gold but they soon turn to dark blues and purples as Robert steers his yacht toward the old abandoned pier where he first encountered the siren; The old abandoned pier stands weathered and worn, jutting out into the calm sea. The air is thick with anticipation as he anchors the boat and steps onto the weathered wood, his heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. The scent of salt and the distant cry of seagulls. The siren, curious and cautious, swims near the pier, her form shimmering just below the surface. As he approaches the edge of the pier, the water below stirs with a gentle ripple, and the siren emerges from the depths, her form radiant in the morning light. Her eyes, the color of the sea itself, meet his with a mixture of curiosity and cautious warmth.

“You came back…Robert” Her voice was like a gentle warm breeze.

Smiling faintly, nervous yet determined. "Yes, I... I wanted to understand. To talk."

Swimming closer, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Talk? About what, Robert?"

Taking a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "About you. About why you're here, why you called to me."

“I am here because I've seen your heart, Robert. I know your pain."

"My pain... you mentioned that yesterday." Nodding slowly, his expression thoughtful.

Pausing, then continuing softly. “Your father, he cast a long shadow. You carry that burden."

Surprised, looking into her eyes. “How do you know about my father?"

"I know many things, Robert. I've watched you, felt your struggles."

Stepping closer, cautiously. “And you? What are you?"

"I am a guardian of the sea, a keeper of forgotten truths. My kind has watched over humans for eons."

Nodding, absorbing her words. “Forgotten truths... like what?"

Robert pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he watches the siren's tail glisten in the moonlight. He's seen many remarkable things in his life, but this sight, so mythical and surreal, captures his imagination like nothing before. The scales seem to shimmer with a life of their own, reflecting the silver light of the moon and the deeper shades of the ocean. Each scale is delicate yet strong, a testament to the ancient beauty of the creature before him.

His heart pounds in his chest, not just from the sight, but from the realization of the truth behind the myths. This creature, this siren, is real. It's not a figment of his imagination or a trick of the light; it's a living being, standing before him with wisdom and grace. A tear forms at the corner of his eye, as the weight of the encounter settles upon him. For the first time in his life, he feels a connection to something larger than himself, something ancient and profound.

As the siren notices his reaction, she pauses, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of empathy and understanding. She senses his awe and uncertainty, but also the stirring of acceptance and wonder within him. Without words, she reaches out a hand, her touch light and reassuring. In that moment, Robert feels a shift deep within his soul, a flicker of hope and renewal. The world around them fades away, leaving only the two of them standing on the pier, bound together by the moonlight and the secrets of the sea.

Robert snaps back to reality after having this connection form between the two of them, a small yet soft smile appears on his face.

"Stories of courage, of love, of loss. The depths hold secrets, Robert, stories waiting to be told."

"Tell me one of these stories, then."

Hesitating, then beginning softly. "Once, there was a sailor who lost his way. He was burdened by his past, haunted by his choices. But in the heart of a storm, he found solace in the song of the sea. He learned to forgive himself, to let go."

Mesmerized, hanging on her every word. "And what happened to him?"

Smiling gently."He found peace. He became one with the ocean, free from regrets."

Reflecting, a weight lifting from his shoulders. “Peace... that sounds... nice."

The both of them went extremely quiet, her mind wanders to the possibilities of a life intertwined with his, a life where the boundaries between land and sea blur, where their souls can find solace in each other's presence. The siren pauses to think for a minute before asking; “Do you trust me Robert?..” Her voice, soft and filled with an earnest vulnerability, breaks the silence. In her heart, she feels a rare and profound connection, a pull stronger than any she has felt in centuries. Robert looks into her eyes, seeing the depths of her emotions reflected there. He feels a warmth spreading through his chest, a sense of peace and acceptance. Without hesitation, he nods, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "Yes."

In that moment, the siren moves closer, her arms wrapping around him in a warm embrace. Her touch is tender, her skin cool yet comforting against his. Their eyes lock for a brief, intense moment before she leans in, pressing her lips gently against his. The kiss is both a promise and a farewell, filled with an ethereal sweetness that takes his breath away. As she pulls him into the water, he feels no fear, only a deep sense of trust and surrender. The water envelops them, but instead of the expected cold and suffocation, he feels a soothing warmth, as if the ocean itself is welcoming him. They descend together into the depths, where he finds he can breathe effortlessly, surrounded by the siren's protective embrace.

The water around him is not frigid but pleasantly temperate, almost embracing him like a second skin. His initial terror gives way to astonishment as he realizes he can still breathe. He takes tentative breaths, expecting the saltwater to rush in, but instead, his lungs fill with air, as if the water has transformed into a life-sustaining element. The siren’s kiss, he understands, is a shield against the malevolent forces of the deep. He looks at her, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and disbelief. Schools of luminescent fish dart around them, and the coral reefs glow with an ethereal light. The siren's eyes, reflecting the shimmering surroundings, are fixed on Robert as she speaks.

Her voice resonating through the water, soft and contemplative. "You're different from many men I've sent to these very depths below."

His eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. He takes a moment to process her words, his mind racing with questions. He feels a chill, not from the water but from the weight of her statement. The siren's tone is both contemplative and wistful, suggesting a history of encounters that ended differently. Robert’s thoughts flash to the countless legends of men lured to their doom by sirens. He looks at her, searching her eyes for understanding. His initial surprise begins to fade, replaced by a sense of intrigue. "Why am I different?" he wonders, the question echoing silently in his mind. There's a depth to her gaze, an ancient sadness mixed with a hint of admiration. He realizes that she sees something in him that sets him apart, something beyond the surface.

Robert feels a strange mix of humility and pride. For so long, he has felt overshadowed by his father's legacy, doubting his own worth. Yet here, in the depths of the ocean, a mythical creature sees him as unique. He takes a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength.

His voice steady, filled with genuine curiosity. “What do you see in me that's different?"

As the siren prepares to respond, Robert’s heart beats with anticipation. He feels that this moment is pivotal, not just for understanding the siren, but for understanding himself. Her webbed hands reach up and grab his face, her touch firm yet oddly tender. His breath catches in his throat as he looks into her eyes, which are filled with a mix of predatory intensity and mysterious allure. The sight of her shark-like teeth, sharp and gleaming, sends a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of her otherworldly nature. Robert’s heart pounds, a tumult of emotions swirling within him. Fear, fascination, and a deep, inexplicable connection battle for dominance. The siren’s smile is both terrifying and captivating, a blend of danger and beauty that holds him spellbound. He can feel her tail tightening around him, their bodies entwined in an intimate embrace that leaves no room for escape.

In the next moment, the siren pulls him into a deep, dramatic kiss. The world around them seems to fade, leaving only the intensity of their connection. Her kiss is unlike anything he has ever experienced—powerful and consuming, yet somehow gentle and protective. He feels a rush of emotions, a surge of warmth and exhilaration that transcends his initial fear.

Robert’s mind races, but his body responds instinctively, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer. In this profound, surreal moment, he feels a deep sense of surrender and acceptance. The kiss speaks of both possession and union, a melding of their very beings in the depths of the ocean. He realizes that he is not just captivated by her; he is willingly giving himself to the experience, trusting her completely despite the fearsome appearance. As they finally break the kiss, Robert looks into her eyes, breathless and awestruck. The intensity of the moment has left him changed, his heart pounding not from fear but from the profound connection he now feels with the siren.

The cold night air hits him, and he gasps, eyes wide with shock and exhilaration. The water rushes past them, the pressure changing rapidly as they ascend. Robert’s heart races, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through him. The moonlight above grows brighter, the surface approaching fast. They break through the water with a powerful, violent leap, droplets scattering like diamonds in the night air. The sensation is surreal, almost dreamlike, as they soar through the air before landing on the abandoned pier. The siren places Robert down carefully, her movements gentle and deliberate. He lies on the weathered planks, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the sudden transition. As he looks up at her, he notices that his clothes are completely dry, a stark contrast to the water dripping from her luminous form. The impossible reality of it all leaves him speechless.

Her voice soft, tinged with a sadness and a promise. “Till we meet again.”

Before he can respond, she slips back into the water, her form disappearing beneath the waves with a graceful flick of her tail. Robert lies there, his heart pounding, staring at the spot where she vanished. He touches his clothes, incredulous at their dryness. The experience feels like a dream, yet the sensations are too vivid to dismiss. A deep sense of awe settles over him. He feels a mixture of gratitude and longing, the brief yet profound connection with the siren leaving an indelible mark on his soul. The memory of her touch, her words, and the extraordinary journey through the ocean depths fills him with a sense of purpose and wonder he has never felt before. Robert stands slowly, gazing out at the moonlit sea. He knows that his life has been irrevocably changed, that he will carry this encounter with him always. As he walks back to his yacht, he silently vows to return, eager to understand more about the mysterious siren and the world she had revealed to him.

[thebadgerclan]

Whole Heart

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader x Wylan Van Eck

Summary: Wylan returns from a trip to Shu Han...

A/N: I know I mentioned something smutty, but I stressed myself out with school so I needed something fluffy 😂

Also I wrote this bc WYLAN NEEDS LOVE

This was uncharted territory for Wylan.  He’d grown up without knowing any sort of love, any sort of happiness.  And now he had not one, but two of the most attractive people in the Barrel who wanted to be his.  He swore he’d wake up back in his father’s house, sure this was some cruel dream.  But he woke up every morning in yours and Jesper’s bed, in your arms, and slowly, steadily, Wylan was coming to believe in his new reality.

He’d been asked to travel to Bhez Ju to speak on behalf of the Merchant Council and their newest investment, leaving you and Jesper in Ketterdam.  “I won’t be more than a week, a week and a half at the most,” Wylan had said, which led to Jesper pouting and you drawing your lover into your arms.  “Ignore him, we’ll be fine.  I mean, we’ll miss you like crazy, but we’ll survive.”  “Speak for yourself, Y/N!” Jesper lamented.  “How am I expected to survive without my precious darling boy?”

The next morning, when you and Jesper saw him off at the docks, Wylan heavily debated throwing his bags into the harbor and making Jesper carry him home.  But he kissed you goodbye, accepted Jesper’s bone-crushing hug, and boarded the ship to Shu Han.  It was only an hour into the voyage that Wylan realized just how hard this trip would be without the two of you.  When he saw dolphins from his cabin window, all he’d wanted to do was tell you, to show Jesper, but you weren’t there.

It seemed that now that he’d gotten a taste of what it meant to be loved, Wylan couldn’t go without it.  He would do his best to push that aside and go what he’d been sent on this trip to do, but every spare moment, his thoughts were occupied by your smile, by Jesper’s laugh, by the feeling of your arms around him, keeping him safe.  Back in Ketterdam, you and Jesper were faring no better.  Wylan had only been a part of your relationship for a month or so, but in that short time, he had integrated seamlessly into your life.

Jesper came to expect the sound of flute music lilting through the halls, to smell Wylan’s shampoo on his pillow, because he could never seem to keep his head on his own; you’d come to relish Wylan popping into your study to tell you about the new piece he’d been working on or the progress he’d made with his reading.  When the three of you would fall into bed at night, it was common for Wylan to sandwich himself right between you and Jesper, wanting to be cradled in both of your arms.

But now, the halls were quiet, Jesper’s pillow smelled like his own shampoo.  Your work was uninterrupted, and the bed felt far too large.  And as nice as it was to spend some time alone with Jesper, you both missed your other lover, you missed Wylan.  The week passed far too slowly, and when the door opened on a Saturday morning, you flew from your seat in the living room.

“My baby’s home!” you cried, running into the entryway.  Wylan had barely set his bags down when you swept him into your arms, peppering his face and neck with kisses.  “Y/N!” he giggled, and oh, what a beautiful sound that was.  “Ghezen, I missed you, we both missed you, love.”  Wylan wrapped his arms around your waist and held you, nuzzling his face into your chest.  “I missed you too.”  For several minutes, you stood with your boyfriend in your arms, stroking his hair and kissing his temples.  “I love you,” you whispered, and Wylan shuddered, still somewhat unaccustomed to being openly adored.

“I love you too,” he replied, and you coaxed his head from your chest.  “I think there’s someone upstairs who’s just as excited to see you as I am.”  His face lit up at the mention of his other lover, and Wylan wound have bolted up the stairs if he hadn’t been so reluctant to let go of your hand.  But you followed him to the bedroom, where Jesper was still dozing, happily watching as Wylan perched himself on the edge of the bed.  

He bent to press a gentle kiss to the Zemini’s forehead, causing his face to scrunch up.  “Jesper,” Wylan said, kissing his cheek.  “Wake up, darling.”  “Hmm, Wylan….  Wylan?”  Jesper sat up, nearly knocking his boyfriend over, a mad smile overtaking his face.  “Wy, sweetheart, you’re home!”  “I am–oh!”  Jesper pulled Wylan into his lap and kissed him deeply, making the mercher blush.

You moved to sit on your side of the bed, draping your arm over Jesper’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “I missed you so much, baby,” Jesper said, his forehead resting against Wylan’s.  “I was only gone a week,” Wylan said, and you laughed. “It felt longer than that, honey,” you said, and Wylan was all too eager to accept your kisses, your embraces, to be showered in love and attention from you and Jesper.

It took a fair amount of convincing, but Wylan managed to separate himself from both of you long enough to change into pajamas.  The journey back to Ketterdam had been rough; storms the entire time, and Wylan hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.  And being back in his lovers’ arms had him nodding off in seconds.  “I love you,” he said, snuggling between you and Jesper; lying on his side facing you, his face pressed into your chest, with Jesper spooning him from behind.  This was usually how the three of you slept, the position letting Wylan be held by both of his lovers.

“I love you too, Wy,” Jesper replied, kissing the back of his neck.  “Love you too, baby,” you said, smoothing his hair from his face.  “We love you so much.”  Wylan’s heart felt like it could explode with how happy he was, with how much he loved the two of you, and as he fell asleep, he was smiling.  Jesper reached over his sleeping boyfriend and cupped your cheek.  You reached up and laid your hand over his, squeezing it gently.  “I have my whole heart again,” you said, and Jesper hummed.  “So do I.”