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spideymarvelws · 4 years ago

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What would frat Peter! Be like if he found out the reader is a Virgin?

i put to much time into this

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Warnings : SMUT! (dirty talk, slight degrading, protected sex, oral [fem rec]), cursing, floof, peter going from simp to cocky real quick

Word Count : 4.6k (okay why is this longer than 90% of my oneshots i-)

Frat!Peter finding out the fem!reader is a virgin

It all starts when you and Mj are lounging in your shared apartment watching a movie like you both did every Sunday

The both of you were cuddled into the endless amount of blankets on either side of the couch, eyes trained on the bright screen in front of you

But your mind was focused on something else, namely a certain brown haired boy that just couldn’t seen to leave you alone

Peteyboi💗👀: hows the movie going lovebug??

you : lovebug?

you : thats a new one

Peteyboi💗👀: just trying out new things

Peteyboi💗👀: spicing stuff up a bit yk?

Peteyboi💗👀: do you like it?

you : im not really opposed to it

Peteyboi💗👀: ill add it to the list then

you : list?!

Peteyboi💗👀: pretend you didn't read that

You giggled at your boyfriends words, mouthing a quick sorry to MJ when she gave you a hard glare with the sudden burst of noise

But you couldn't help it, every time you saw the notification pop up on your phone, you couldn't help but act like a lovesick teenager falling in love for the first time

At this point the both of you had been dating for around seven months

Seven months of cliche coffee dates and pulling all nighters

Seven months of stolen kisses in the library or holding hands under the table during lectures

Seven months of pure bliss

“So why haven’t you guys fucked yet?” MJ said abruptly shaking you out of your love sick stare texting Peter

“I’m sorry, what!?”

“You know,” she pounded her fist into the palm of her hand repeatedly, “Sex,”

“What- I-” you shook your head, trying to process her words, “How did this come up all of a sudden?”

“Since you decided to ignore me on our movie night,” she smirked, “Were you sexting him?”

“WHAT!”

“So I’ll take that as a no?”

“Yes thats a no!” you buried yourself further into the blankets, “Should-” you took a deep breath, “should it be a yes?”

“I don’t know, should it?”

“Oh that’s a good question! Almost like I already asked it,”

Mj laughed at your pouty glare

“No, no it shouldn’t,” she rested a comforting hand on your leg, “Do you want it to be though?”

Yes you did

More than anything

It was stupid, but what you had with Peter was different from anything you’ve had with other people in the past

He was everything a girl could ask for, smart, caring and a sweet personality that could make anyone smile

Let’s not mention his impressive build

And out of all the girls and guys that threw themselves at him, he choose you to love

You wanted to take that step with him, but you were scared that he would reject you

You weren’t experienced, in any way, to the point where you were completely innocent

And you were dating a frat boy, the name that carried the reputation of sleeping around with most people on campus

How could you match up to that?

You couldn’t help but feel insecure in that area

The most you’ve ever went with Peter was a heavy make-out, it happened quite often too but he always stopped things before they went any further

There wasn’t any explanation, only peter bringing you close to cuddle for the rest of the night, forgetting the spit covering his lips and neck

Which lead you to make your own and none of them were exactly positive

Didn’t stop you from imagining a life where he wouldn’t drop you figuring how untalented you were in bed though

Or just daydreaming of him railing you out of existence

im looking you

“Yes?” you covering your face with your hands, embarrassed with your confession, “I don’t know about him though,”

MJ was aware that you were a virgin but only scoffed at your answer, “Oh come on, that boy is head over heels for you, why wouldn’t he want to fuck you,”

You felt your face heat up with the choose of words, “If he did wouldn’t he have made a move by now?”

“Better question, have you noticed his moves,”

Her question made you think as she continued

“Because I sure have,”

“What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes, “The looks he gives you when your not paying attention,” she started to count on her fingers, “Always touching you, constantly, like all the time. Biting his lip anytime you do anything remotely sexual and always blushes afterwards because he caught himself. Oh! Remember that time you wore that skirt? Like the pretty tight one? Yeah, his eyes were on your ass for like the whole day-”

“Okay, okay you could stop now I get it,” you groaned, “How do you know all of this?”

“I’m observant,”

“Makes sense.”

“The point is, he’s is definitely interested in you Y/n, it’s just a matter of you showing interest back.”

“I-” you sighed, “I can’t do that mj,”

“Like hell you can’t,” she rolled your eyes but pried your hands away from your face softly, “Do you want him to be your first Y/n?”

You nodded your head, “Yeah,” you looked back at her, “Yeah, I do,”

“Then you need to talk it out with him, see where you both stand when it comes to that regard in your relationship,”

“I know, I know, I’m just scared for his reaction,”

MJ only sighed, “This is Peter we’re talking about y/n, he’d respect your boundaries until your ready, and I know you’ll respect his. Its just a matter of who makes the first step,”

“Okay, okay,” you took a deep breath, “I’ll just ask him when I could see him again and just-” you paused, “Ask him,”

“There we go!” MJ cheered as you reached for your phone

Peteyboi💗👀: hello??

Peteyboi💗👀: hellooooooooo

Peteyboi💗👀: is this about the list?

Peteyboi💗👀: i promise ill try them all out sugar

Peteyboi💗👀: ...

Peteyboi💗👀: tbh i didnt like that one

You looked up at MJ, motivated by her reassuring eyes and words, you texted back

you : dont worry petey, the list is cute 😂

Peteyboi💗👀: good good

Peteyboi💗👀: did mj catch you??

you : maybe

you : i blame your clinginess

Peteyboi💗👀: i thought you said you liked my clinginess🥺

you : never said it was a bad thing 😘

Peteyboi💗👀: you implied it tho 😪

you : nah

you : i think thats just you

“What did he say?” MJ interrupted, her legs bouncing up and down anxiously

“I- uh, didn’t get to it yet,”

“I will take that phone, throw it across the room and make you do this in person if you keep stalling,”

You didn’t want to test her words

you : i miss you tho

Peteyboiiii💗👀: sorry babe, just been really busy with the internship

you : i know petey dw

you : do you know when you’ll be free next?

Peteyboiiii💗👀: uuuuhhhh

Peteyboiiii💗👀: the guys are suppose to be out Thursday

Peteyboiiii💗👀: i was suppose to tell you tomorrow but you beat me too it😂

you : oh really?

Peteyboiiii💗👀: would be just the two of us...

fuck circumstances

you : its a date then?

Peteyboiiii💗👀: hey! thats my line😤

you : sorry for stealing your thunder loverboy

Peteyboiiii💗👀: 👁👄👁

you : oh so you could do pet names but i cant???

Peteyboiiii💗👀: never said it was a bad thing 👀

you : ...

you : goodnight peter

The couple of days leading up to the Thursday were stressful to say the least

But MJ was there to hype you up, telling you everything that you should expect, what signals to use and even going out of her way to buy you a red set of lingerie

“It’s going to be awkward at first-”

“Well no shit it’s going to be awkward at first,”

“Hey! No talking back to your teachers,”

“Sorry...”

The drive to the house was nerve wrecking

You were anxious to see his reaction, but even with the doubt clouding your head, there was a ray of light that passed through, reminding you that Peter wasn’t that type of guy

That these past months have proved that he loved you, and you loved him

That he wanted this just as much as you did

You just needed to show him that

He greeted you at the door with a bear hug, rocking you back and forth in his arms

“I’ve missed you angel,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck that made the hairs on your skin raise

“Angel?” you squeaked, “Where did that come from?”

“The list remember?” he pulled back, beaming brighter than you’ve ever seen, “going down one by one. I quite like this one though,” his voice lowered, “Angel, suites you don’t your think?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “Could we go inside?”

“Yeah of course,” his hand squeezed your waist, moving to small of your back and leading you inside

You didn't know how long you could last. With the new pet names, your hyperawareness to his touch and all of his words suddenly having new meaning behind them

You started to miss being so oblivious

“It’s been so long since we’ve had a day together, holy shit,” he said, falling back against the cushions of his couch with his thighs spread making you gulp, “come here,”

“Huh?”

He pouted, “I want to cuddle with my girlfriend so come here,”

the dude likes cuddles leave him alone

You shook your head, remembering MJ’s words,

“First step, get into the bedroom,”

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in your room?”

Peter’s head tilted to the side in confusion, “We have the whole house to ourselves and you want to spend it in my room?”

You nodded, walking up to him and stretching out your hand for him to take, “What’s so wrong with your room?”

“nothing, nothing,” he sighed taking your hand and standing up, “Just not as comfy as the couch,”

“You’re just being dramatic,”

“Dramatic?” he teased, raising your hand to spin you around, pulling your back to his chest, “I know nothing of a sort,”

You knew it was suppose to be playful, you knew he was just teasing you like he always did

But the feeling of his hard chest against your back, his hair tickling the base of your throat and his arms wrapped strongly around your waist, keeping you tight against him

You couldn't help but imagine this in a very different scenario

“Ready to go then?”

You nodded, not sure if you could even form words correctly at that point

Peter smirked and within one motion he had you in his arms bridal style, taking you to the stairs that lead to his room

“Nothing of a sort my ass,” you mumbled into his neck, cracking a smile when you felt the vibrations of his chuckles rumble from his chest

“You should know me well enough by now angel,” he kicked open his door, closing it back with the heel of his shoe, “I like to play,”

You sure fucking hoped so

You shrieked when he threw you down on his bed, hopping on top of you and holding you down so you couldn’t move

“Peter!” you whined, giggling when his fingers trailed up your side

“What’s wrong angel?” he kissed your noise, moving to kiss your cheeks, your forehead and finally a small peck on your pouty lips, “Do you not like this,”

“No, no, no,” you cupped his face, keeping him still do you could look at him directly, “I love this,”

“good,” he whispered, bumping his nose against yours, lips brushing against each other, “Good,”

“great,” you whispered back, hesitantly raising your head to connect your soft lips on his

It was slow, reminding you of the first time you kissed in the park, trying to figure out you’d lead, you’d follow. Getting the timing right when opening your mouths, and tilting your heads at the right angle for the perfect combination of comfort and touch

It was almost like he was memoizing the motion, stopping after every movement before continuing again sometimes with the same thing or trying out something new

Soon enough his hands gripped the side of your waist, pulling you up slightly to flip the both of you over so that you were on top

He pulled you closer, your chest practically moulding into his when his tongue swiped along your bottom lips, asking for entrance

You gave it to him immediately, letting him explore your mouth in any way he wanted

It went on like that for a few minutes, just the two of you sloppily making out in the middle of his bed. You tried to take it a bit further, grinding your hips subtly but his grip tightened and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours

“I missed that angel,” he whispered, grinning at your small giggle

“Me too,” you paused, letting out a shaky breath, trying to recover from the kiss and ignore the wet feeling in your pants, “Could I ask you something?”

“Anything,”

It was now or never, “Why did you stop?”

“Well I- uh, didn’t think you would want to kiss for the rest of the day,” he laughed to cover the crack in his voice, “I know I’m irresistible angel, but you don’t want to wear me out so soon,”

You bit your lip, “But what if that’s what I want?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he shifted on the bed, “You- you want that?”

“Only if you do,” you started to regret your words, “You know what? Just forget I said anything-”

He quickly cut you off with a kiss making you gasp lightly at the sudden contact, “I want that more than anything,” he said quickly, “It’s just- I don’t want to force you into anything, didn’t want to make you feel obligated in any way,”

“I- I want this peter,” your said, feeling the heaviness on your chest disappear, “I want this with you,”

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay, okay,” he nodded, trying to hid his smile as he lifted you off his lap, laying you gently on the bed, “Hold on, I’ll be right back,”

You watched with your head tilted in confusion when peter walked out of the room only to come back with a blindfold in his hands

“Petey, as much as i would love to, you know it’s my first time and uh-”

He quickly caught on to what your implying, burning bright red, “No, no, no that’s not what this is for,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I want your first time to be special and this is a bit rushed but I want to surprise you and make it nice,”

“Oh,” you stood up, “Okay yeah,”

Peter walked behind you, gently laying the blindfold around your eyes and tying it behind your head. He leaned down to place a cheeky kiss on your neck, trailing up to behind your ear

“Stay here,” he demanded softly before stepping away leaving you frozen in place

He couldn’t help but stand back for a few minutes and admire your state. Your feet were tilted inward, hands rubbing your shoulders with your head tilted down

The perfect display of submission

But he had to kick those thought aside, just for today

After a couple of minutes of waiting, you jumped when you felt hands on your arms, calming when you recognised the rough skin

“Are you ready?” he could hear the smile in his words

“Yes,”

The blind fold feel from your face, your eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light

But it was a lot darker than before, the lights dimmed drawing attention to the groups of candles sitting on his nightstand. The sheets were different as well, the white blankets replaced with soft black ones, the grey pillows now red with intricate designs sewn into them

“It isn't much but, I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be,”

“It’s that and more Peter,” you smiling, turning around in his arms to place a quick kiss to his cheek, “Now it’s time for my surprise,”

You pushed him down on the edge of the bed, turning around and taking off your hoodie, shuffling out of your black tights to reveal the lingerie

You turned around with a harsh exhale, feelings small under his gaze

“fuck, you were ready for tonight weren’t you baby?”

You fiddled with your fingers in front of him, “MJ helped me,”

“Figured,” he took your hand, pulling you back to gently straddle his waist, “You’d be beautiful in a potato sack angel, you have nothing to worry about,”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and settling in his lap, “I find that hard to believe,”

“Then let me show you,”

He leaned in, kissing your lips briefly and pulling back, smirking when you mindlessly chased them

“tease,” you muttered, your forehead falling against his

“You love it,”

“Yeah, yeah I do,”

You both leaned back in, your mouths perfectly in sync as your lips moved against one another, the practise before hand helping tremendously

Your arms tightened around his neck, your hands running through his soft brown locks, tugging lightly on the strands

He groaned into your mouth, bitting the your bottom lip and pulling lightly, “You’re going to be the death of me angel, you know that?”

You only giggled, “Seems more like a you problem,”

“Oh? Is that how it is,”

You nodded shyly, playing with the edge of his shirt, “I just think it’s unfair that I’m the only one without a shirt on,”

Peter bit his bottom lip, reaching down and pulling off his shirt and connecting your lips right after. He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you up as he stood and lying you back down on the bed

He moved his lips from yours, down your throat to your colour bone, leaving his own marks in the process

Sealing you as his

And his only

“Can I?” he gestured to the front clip of your bra

You nodded, lost in the feelings of his lips on your skin

“Words angel,”

“Yes, yes please,”

He laughed, “Didn’t even get to the main event and you’re already begging for me,”

You whined, “Peter,”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, unclipping the garment, helping you raise slightly so he could fully discard it to the side

“Beautiful,” he whispered before latching his mouth on your left nipple, stimulating the other with his forefinger and thumb

“Oh my god,” your hand shot to his hair, tugging at them slightly while the other took the sheets tightly in its palm

“Feeling good angel?” he smirked knowing damn well the answer

He just wanted to hear you say it

“So good Peter,”

He chuckled, switching to the other nipple, “We haven’t even reached the good part Y/n,”

You only let out a shaky sigh, your hand falling from his hair once he started to move further down your body

He liked that he could make you melt with the minimum things he could do

He wanted to remind you that he had the power to do so

And you enjoyed it

Your back arched when he kissed down your stomach, his fingers trailing down the side and hooking them on the lace of your panties

He looked up at you, waiting for your confirmation

“Please,” you said once again, raising your legs slightly so he could take them off easily

“So needy,” he muttered, taking them off in once motion, crawling back up to place himself between your thighs, “Going to make you feel so good angel, so fucking good,”

His arms wrapped themselves snuggly around the base of your leg, pulling your core down closer to his face

“Ready?” he purred, trailing kisses up your thigh

“Yes,”

“Good.”

He took a bold lick up the length of your pussy, his tongue swirling around the bud of your clit

“Holy fuck Peter!” you shouted, bitting down on your finger to suppress your noise

“No, no, no angel I want to hear you,” he almost growled, “I want to hear you scream for me, know that I’m the only one that would ever get to hear and make you feel this way,”

His possessiveness turned you on even more

You slowly moved your hand from your mouth, placing it down by your side as peter continued eating your pussy like a starved man, listening to your moans and paying attention to your sudden jerks and reactions to his movements

“Taste so good angel, fuck. I’ve been fantasising about this moment ever since I laid eyes on you,” his fingers started to play with your lips, “The things i’ve wanted to do you, to absolutely ravish you, make you my own” he plunged his finger slowly into you, his strength keeping you pressed against the mattress, “But that’s for later, today is all about you,”

You couldn't even form a word when he added a second finger, sending your head back against the pillows. It was so much, his mouth toying with your clit, his fingers entering you that were so much thicker than yours, hitting places that made your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure

With the third finger you could feel something change, a sudden spike run up your body, clearing your mind of everything but the feelings of your high quickly approaching

“Peter I-”

“Going to cum angel? Gonna cum all over fingers?”

“Yes Peter fuck!”

“Go ahead Y/n, cum for me,”

You high reached with his words, shaking your body. Peter slowed his pace, dragging out your orgasm for as long as possible

He crawled back up your body, stilling his fingers inside of you while littering your blown out face with kisses, awarding you with his touch

“You did so well angel,” he whispered, “So fucking well,”

“Really milking the use out of that name huh?” you managed to mummer, throwing your arms lazily around his neck, not wanting him to leave any time soon

“Do you want me to change it?” he teased, pulling out his fingers, muttering a small sorry when you winced

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your wetness of his skin while more continued to form at his dirty display

“How about...” his fingers popped out of his mouth, moving to caress your face, leaving a trail of his spit down your cheek, “Princess, my pretty princess,”

Your legs clenched at his tone and new name, making Peter giggle, “Princess it is then,”

He reached over to his bedside table, grabbing a condom and ripping the package open. He rolled the plastic on his impressing length, making you both drool and scared that that’s what was going inside of you

When he took off his sweatpants? you didn’t know

He flipped the both of you over for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His hands were tight on your hips, keeping you hovered over his hard cock

“We go at your pace okay?” his looked at you with dark eyes, “Are you sure that-”

You cut him off with a messy kiss, taking his member into your hand and guiding it to your hole

“You talk to much,” you mumbled, taking the red tip inside you with a groan

He moaned with you, your pussy tight and snug

“Take it easy,” he whispered, whipping off a bead of sweat that began to form on your forehead, “We have all the time in the world,”

“So big,” you whimpered, slowly take him inch by inch. Soon enough you started to loose balance on your knees, falling forward with your hands on his chest and your thighs relaxing, letting him bottom out inside of you

“Fuck,” you both said in unison, letting out a breathy laugh

“It kinda hurts,”

“Well I’m not exactly average in that department-”

You scoffed, moving around on his lap, trying to find a comfortable position

“Tell me how you’re feeling princess,”

“It- it’s getting better,” you were fully relaxed now, “I- I want to start moving,”

“Go ahead Y/n,” he raised himself up so that his chest was pressed against yours, “I’ll guide you okay?”

“Okay, okay,”

You started moving up and down, more so just humping his body because your legs already starting to feel weak

But peter was patient with you, constantly making sure you were okay and keeping his eyes on your body

Not like he wanted to take them of of you

You looked angelic above him

No wonder the name suited you so much

Your mouth open, hips moving slowly bringing the both of you pleasure you’ve never experience before

He wanted to keep that picture in his mind forever, framed in his memory

Because you weren’t some girl at a party he picked up or guy he drunkly made out with

You were someone he loved, with all his heart

That trusted him enough to share this moment with him

And just perfect an every way

“You’re doing so well princess,” he groaning, staring to rut his hips back into yours, making your moans grow even louder

“Fuck,” you fell against his chest, “Peter,”

“You want me to take control princess? Too fucked out already?” he couldn’t help himself while muttering those words, getting lost in the feeling of you

“Please peter I can’t-” he cried, “Please,”

“I got you princess,” he planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting up roughly into you, “I always got you,”

He began pounding into you, gradually getting faster and faster as your whines and moans grew louder and louder

Your second orgasm was quick on its way, and with Peter’s pace becoming irregular, you could tell he was almost there as well

“So fucking tight princess,” he groaned, pressing his cheek against yours, “Are you close,”

You mewled in response

“Cum with me princess, scream my name and cum on my cock,”

“Peter!” you shouted, cumming hard on his member and sagging against his chest

You could feel the condom begin to fill up inside of you, his hips stilling against yours

Part of you wondered how it would feel shooting inside of you without the protection

From there it was a blur, the feelings of peters lips against your skin, his arms wrapped around you, something cold and wet moving across your body

You caught your bearings when Peter pulled you into his chest, his shirt now covering your form along with the same fluffy blankets that covers the couch downstairs

Peter started, “That was-”

“Amazing,” you finished for him, giggling and cuddling further into his chest

Peter looked down at you, his hand caressing your face like he did moments before but this time his touch was filled with comfort and reassurance, “Are you alright?”

“Better than I’ve ever been,” you giggled, peter chuckling along with you

“I think I’m going to need to start adding names to that list,”

You looked up at him, “Like what?”

He sighed, a sly smile forming on his face

“I think I’ll start off with my little slut,”

...

fun fact, this was originally gonna be different types of frat peter like cocky, soft etc like some fucking frat peter multi verse but i just lost interest halfway through.

My mind just said no♥️ so i scraped that and this was born instead

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

Text

Azriel x Reader - Trying.

TW- DEPRESSION//sadness - Thank you anon for this request. I have struggled with Dysthymia for almost my whole life. It felt good to write this little piece of representation.

Nothing but a ghost. Like the two wraiths that waited to serve you at your command. The wraiths that had nothing to do. Granted, they had tried pushing food on you, or books or paints or whatever other form of entertainment or sustenance but you ignored them. Knowing that if you had put up the fight to say anything you may lose your control completely and break down. You could let the time pass, numbly without a care. It was better than having to deal with the reality of not being alive at all.

Rhysand had set you up in a beautiful room in the house of wind after the village attack. You could see the entire city below and the ocean beyond. It did nothing for you. If he was hoping for some kind of gratitude he didn't show it. He simply explained the house would provide if needed and that he would check in weekly. You were surprised he wasnt asking for more - that he wasnt going to try to get any information from you about Hybern's forces on the continent. After months of war you had become numb to the idea of peace. It never seemed like an option anymore. Perhaps the two generals he had brought with him to save your village had gotten all the information they needed.

Weeks of sleeping later and you felt your eyes getting heavy again while looking out to the Sidra. The bright city below seemed buzzing with excitement about the upcoming summer solstice. You couldn't wait until you could go to bed. The tower of books on the table beside you casted a shadow over your feet, then your legs, up to your arms. Until finally, it was dark on the balcony, the stars above twinkling like the white caps on the ocean. Dread twisted in your gut, and you slowly got up, letting your body adjust to the change. Dark spots edged in around your vision.

You could feel the chasm open inside you. The pit of loneliness - the empty void of demons waiting to take you as soon as you dropped your guard. The head rush from getting up made you want to vomit. The acid in your stomach churned, burning up to your throat. Fasting for so long would make Rhysand force your hand to eat, you knew. But you couldn't bring yourself to even try. You felt weighted, like there was a tired blanket over your being and you couldn't get it off no matter how hard you tried. The demons pulled at you.

The pain was good though, a solid reminder of why you would not eat. Why you could not eat. You did not deserve such a pleasure. You doubted you could stomach anything more than crackers anyway after weeks of fasting. Rhysand was not subtle with his advances of trying to get you to try food when he visited. The smell of some of the treats he brought made you gag at times. Your stomach howled at you now though.

The knock on the door didnt surprise you. It was time for the high lord's weekly visit where you would tell him everything was fine and you didnt need anything. And he would try to get through your shields, and there would be a flash of disappointment on his face at the obsidian stone you would slam down on him. Then he would leave. And you could let the sting of that disappointment burn you alive until you were on the bed sobbing.

"Enter, your highness." You smiled to yourself slightly, knowing the title would bother him. The voice that came once the door opened made you whip around. Not Rhys. "Actually..." The spymaster. The general that had guarded your village while the other barreled through the enemy lines. "Rhys was busy. He sent me instead." He stood in the doorway, tentatively.

"Oh.." You felt your cheeks go red at the embarrassment of him seeing you like this. From the defender of your village to..what? A tired being that craved nothing more than to simply not exist anymore? "What is he doing?" You asked out of courtesy only. You were used to the high lord seeing your mess of a room, but Azriel was.. different for some reason. You walked over to the bed and kicked the sheets under the frame. Attempting to tidy up even slightly. The rest of the room was a mess of clothes and empty containers, drink cups. Nerves made your heart race.

"Nightmares?" He asked, stepping inside and closing the oak door behind him. He leaned on it, arms crossed over his chest. His simple tunic seemed to eat the light in the room, not reflecting a thing.

Your face burned. You felt your eyes sting. Clearing your throat you nodded, folding your arms over your middle. Your ribs seemed to jut out more now that he was watching you. You watched him, as his shadows snaked around his shoulders and curled around his ear. They searched the room. You sighed, going to the closet beside him -ignoring the mirror mounted there- and pulling out a folding chair. You placed it next to your own, facing out to the starry sky. You sat in the familiar padded chair, leaning on the arm rest. The half cup of cold tea next to the book tower rattled slightly on its plate as he approached. A bubble of tranquil quiet seemed to encapsulate the area. A feeling you recognized as relief flowed through your bones. You felt the tension in your body fade slightly. You breathed a bit easier, like he was taking a weight off your chest.

He sat next to you for a long while before he spoke. "I used to hate night time." His voice was level. You tore your eyes away from the most interesting spot on the floor where you were thinking of nothing to look at him.

He kept his eyes out to the balcony, a cool wind gusting through. His wings were folded in tight behind him, the shadows coiling over everything in the room. The trees below sighed at the caress of the breeze. The night seemed to finally speak as he spoke. He brought his hands together in front of him, rubbing over the scarred texture there. "I would hear absolutely everything in that basement. I could tell when night fell, even without windows. I could hear the beasts hunting outside, or my bastard father getting drunk and-" His hands clenched, and you thought you heard his teeth grind together. "He was a cruel male. To everyone, even my half brothers."

A shudder rippled through you. You wondered what he had done to Azriel, if his father was cruel to his more beloved children. They had forced him into that basement, even when they knew first hand how Illyrians craved the sky. He knew of total darkness and silence - of pain that seemed to stretch on without end. He knew loneliness, he was locked up with it for the first part of his life. His shadows circled around your ankles like a cat, like they recognized you. Your voice was little more than a whisper as you spoke. "I dont even know whats wrong with me." You were relieved your tears didnt spill over. They pricked your eyes but you blinked them away.

He was quiet, taking in the information. "I didnt either until I found out what a shadow singer is." He paused, glancing at you as you tucked your legs up under yourself. "It dosent mean anything is wrong, it just means you need help sometimes. To figure out exactly what you need." He stood from the chair and flexed his wings, the shadows collecting around him like a puddle.

He held a hand out to you, patient even while you considered. Getting out of the chair seemed like so much work with such a tired body. Tired soul, tired spirit. Anything beyond existence seemed like a complete burden. But his hand there, waiting, unwavering. Challenging. it made you sigh and finally, stiffly get out of the chair that housed you. The chair that had sucked you in, prisoned you for months.

His smile was stunning. His dark eyes seemed to light up. He led you on to the balcony and leaned over the railing. The pines far below rustled with the breeze. You swore you could hear the Sidra as well, bubbling with the current over the rocks. "How did you get out?" You asked, your eyes locking into his. He looked at you without sorrow, no fear or judgement lurked there. Just that half smile that had stayed since you stood from that chair.

"I was.. released by my father, but I still had to battle the darkness that I had learned. It wasn't until I met Rhysand and his mother that I began to... cope." He contemplated for a moment, his wings moving slightly with the wind that came through. "I'm familiar with what you're feeling. I ask that you try. I can come back again if you'd like." He left it as an open ended question, not as a demand or promise.

"Just try? You're not gonna make a checklist for me?" You mocked, he just shook his head. "I think I would like that." You answered. At least he wouldnt pester you as much as the high lord did. At least he could bring this feeling of relief to your bones. He nodded, and the shadows seemed to spike, receding from the room and joining him, wrapping around his body and melding him with the night. "I'll be back tomorrow, then." He said simply, raising himself on to the balcony railing with ease.

You nodded, wringing your hands with nerves as you watched him flare his wings, preparing to fly. "Dont let the bed eat you, Rhys wouldn't be happy if I had to break more of his furniture." He said over his shoulder with a wink. You felt a fleeting smile come to your lips as he jumped, wings catching him as he glided on the wind. You made a note to yourself to ask what other furniture he had ruined.

He disappeared quickly, the shadows and the comfy bubble of silence gone. When you closed the door to the balcony and turned back to your chair, there was a plate of crackers and fruit waiting there. Your stomach rolled at the thought. Instead, you went to the closet, putting his chair away. You made a mental note to get a different seating option for him, to accommodate the wings. Knowing he was coming back, you saved yourself the future embarrassment and began picking up your clothes, putting them into the corner bin where they disappeared. You didnt pause long enough to check to see if the clothes were reappearing clean in the closet, you just kept cleaning. Trusting the house to understand you were in fact, trying. You dared not pause, knowing if you stopped there wouldn't be a beginning again.

You went as far as requesting a mop and bucket from the Wraiths. They were wide eyes with shock at your room, at your abruptness. But they said nothing about it, just bringing you the items you requested and then some. Naula snuck in a plate of meat and cheese, leaving it next to the crackers on the end table now that there was more room with the book pile cleaned up.

You requested the extra chair. They promised it would be in the room by morning. You made your bed, and once you were satisfied with the shining floors you stood back to admire your work. It looked like a different space, clutter gone and the books organized again. You had given the cups the Cerridwen before they left, thanking them both.

You went to your chair, hesitant to sit. The wear marks on the arm rests and the seat were apparent. Instead, picked up the plate of fruit and crackers and took it to the bench at the end of the bed, picking at the more neutral fruit as you went. A spark of something bloomed in your chest at the thought of Azriel coming back. Of what his reaction would be at the clean look of your room. You dared to hope that he would notice at all. Something told you though that he would consider this trying. He made it sound so easy.

The bed welcomed you, clean sheets caressing your legs as you fell into the most peaceful sleep you had in a long while.

#acotar fic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar insert #acotar reader insert

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uweresaying · 3 years ago

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final goodbye - Shouto Todoroki x reader

In the dorms of UA high school, class 1-A had settled into their rooms for the night. Deku was probably up practicing his quirk, while Katsuki and Iida were probably fast asleep, like most of the class. It had been a long day of vigorous quirk training, pushing the limits of how far they could go. But here you were, wide awake, sitting out on the balcony of your dorm. You had a cig in one hand, and in the other, you held your worn copy of Fahrenheit 451. You had problems with falling asleep, especially since the LOV attack at summer camp, so most nights you would just end up in this exact position. As you read, you caught a glimpse of your door opening, and the air was knocked out of you when you saw the heterochronic eyes of one of your classmates looking back at you. You raised an eyebrow as you took another drag, watching him close the door behind him, and shuffle over to the glass door in front of you, taking his time to take in the scenery of your room. There he stood, the same plaid sweatpants he'd worn the first night in the dorms when Mina insisted you guys all hang out in the common room to celebrate "moving in with one another". That had been 2 years ago, so you had wondered whether or not they were the same pants, but let that thought exhale from your mind along with the cig smoke. "I thought you quit that shit." the boy said, inviting himself to lay down on the mini couch across from where you were sitting. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "I did. for about a year and 5 months." you said, taking another drag and turning your attention back to your book. Shouto let out a heavy sigh, turning away from the sky to look at you. "You know, I didn't give that key to you. It's pretty rude for you to use it." you said, not looking up from your book. "What are you talking about y/n, you did give it to me. plus, you never asked for it back. It was a gift." You let another half-assed laugh escape your lips, looking over to him with a look of surprise. "No, I didn't give it to you. I gave it to the person that you used to be. You're a stranger to me." As you met his eyes, you could see the hurt your words had caused. if you weren't about to take another drag of your cig, you would have probably smiled, but your drag was cut short when a firm hand grabbed the smoking stick from your mouth and put it out with his right hand. "Hey! What the fuck, do you know how hard it is to find a pack of-" "menthols around here?" he cut you off to finish. You felt your cheeks warming up as he sat down on the floor against the railing, looking up at you. Words were swimming in your head. You were angry. You wanted to slap him. But you also wanted to jump into his arms. Hold him close and let his strong form wrap around you and indulge in the safety only he could provide you. But instead, your muscles were stiff, water forming in your eyes, your face betraying you by letting him see a hurt expression start to cross it. "I don't know what you want from me." you finally uttered out, looking down at your chipped toenails that were crossed in your chair. "I want you to lie to me and tell me that the person looking back at me wasn't created because of the hurt I caused." he said, drawing your eyes back to him. You laughed a little, rolling your eyes before licking your lips and looking up at him again. "Well, I'm not a good liar, so I think you're shit out of luck." you said, making him smile a little. "Yeah, a good liar has never been high on your resume. I remember when you came to my dorm reeking of whiskey, thinking you had convinced me you hadn't been drinking with Mina and Ochako." he said, letting a small smile cross his lips. You smiled too, leaning back and looking up at the sky. "Yeah, and you bitched them out for encouraging me to drink on a school night while all three of us were hungover." you said, watching a plane fly by in the distance. You both sat in silence for a bit, in fact, you had let your eyes fall shut, just enjoying the sounds of nighttime. "I never meant to act the way I did." he

said, causing you to look at him, a lazy look over your face, before rolling your eyes and looking back up at the sky. "It's all water under the bridge at this point. It happened. I let it, and you go." you lied. "It honestly surprises me you feel anything about me, let alone remorse for how you treated me." you said, beginning to feel fed up with this surprise visit you knew shouldn't have been allowed in the first place. "Y/n, I felt a lot of things, I just didn't know how to express them, I didn't know-" "How to communicate your feelings. Look, I know okay. I preached that shit to everyone who tried to talk shit about you when I was sobbing my eyes out to them, trying to figure out what the fuck I had done wrong." you said, your mind not able to stop your mouth before it was too late. Shouto looked at you, and he looked hurt, but he also looked, to you, pathetic. "And you know what, I treated you fucking amazing. I got clean for you. I stopped smoking weed and cigs and stopped drinking, I worked on my quirk that you insisted I was 'throwing away', and worked my ass off to get good grades that I didn't give a shit about until you. I had gotten better. I was doing amazing. and then out of nowhere, you break up with me." you said, letting your words sink in before continuing, "And you know, at first, I was sad, but figured we could have somewhat of a good friendship. I fully intended to continue to get good grades and be the little perfect angel that I expected myself to be to feel like i was enough for you, but then you pretended I didnt exist. You acted like even looking in my direction would kill you. And don't even get me started with you saying you had been thinking about leaving me for two weeks before you actually did it." you said, tears spilling from your eyes, but you kept your voice and face stern. "So don't. just please don't. Just let me live, Shouto. You had no right to come here tonight. You should have thrown that damn key in the trash just like you did with me." you spat, not even bothering to look at him. You knew you'd regret everything you said if you saw him hurt by it, and you didn't want to apologize. All you had wanted since he broke up with you was for him to feel even a fraction of the pain you had felt. But your eyes wandered to him anyway. He was looking at you, dumbstruck. "What?" you spat, more hot tears streaming down your face. He said nothing as he stood, and pulled the key from his pocket, a chain attached to it, with a familiar locket clanking against the key as he held it out to you. Your eyes were blurry from the tears, and you were frozen as he set the chain in your hand. Before he left, he choked, saying, "You're right. You deserve to be allowed to move on. I'm sorry I came." He then kissed the top of your head, before walking back in, leaving you alone once more. You pulled the necklace out from under your shirt, the same locket from his key necklace around your neck. You poped the two of them open and out them side by side. Inside were pictures, in his, was your smiling face with his arms around you, and in yours, the same picture, only the other half, with him smiling with your arms around him. on the opposite side, carved into the gold medal in small letters, the words "私の愛" stared back at you.

*bonus*

only 10 minutes after Sho had left, you found yourself curled up in your bed, sobbing into your pillow, tugging the sleeves of the old sweatshirt he had given you months prior, closer, before eventually drifting off.

#angst imagine #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x y/n #mha x y/n #mha x you #boku no hero academia #todoroki shoto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki angst #shouto angst #mha angst

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years ago

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through the green glass door (*) loki laufeyson x reader

+++++++++ Guess who watched the first Thor movie 😁😁

(*) - leads to smut but it doesnt go all the way. but like, its super suggestive lol

Song: lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off by panic at the disco

@cynic-spirit +++++++++

"do you have any idea what the consequences will be if i get caught?!"

i exclaimed as quietly as possible, my three friends giggling as they huddled around me.

"y/n, youre the most agile person we know. and we've all been dreaming of the fruit off that tree for ages. please."

Lenore said and i rolled my eyes.

"if i get caught im taking you three down with me."

i said, gripping the tree bark on the outside portion of the wall.

"we believe in you."

she said as i began climbing. i couldnt believe id let them talk me into this. but they were right, we had all been wanting the fruit off this tree for a very long time. it was forbidden to any outside the palace walls. something none of us had ever or would ever have the pleasure of enjoying. until now i suppose.

"im at the top."

i called back down to them still on the ground. they all cheered and clapped, jumping up and down as they giggled. but i wasnt triumphant just yet. i could see the tree, barely touching the branches of the one i was in. just over the garden wall.

"youve got this."

i whispered to myself, stepping as lightly as i possibly could towards the wall. there was a creaking and i paused, taking a deep breath. it was fine. this was fine. so i kept going, jumping onto the top of the garden wall as the edge of the branch snapped. i took a staggered breath, still hidden within lots of leaves. but there, like a light in the distance i could see the golden fruit. i plucked one off the branch, its smell as it got closer becoming sweeter and sweeter.

then i saw another, plucking it too and tossing both to the ground below. there i saw the three of them, rushing over and picking them up. i grabbed another that was close enough to reach and dropped it down, so each of them could have one of their own. they all celebrated with happy noises of content as they devoured them. as i looked back up to grab another fruit i noticed there were none left nearer to me.

"drat."

i complained, seeing one of the golden fruits just past the wall, barely out of reach. i knew i shouldn't be greedy but i went through all this trouble, it would be a shame to not have one for myself. so i stepped further, to the edge of the wall. i found a branch sturdy enough and planted my foot on it. i took one step, then another, and so on until i was nearing the trunk of the tree and the fruit i had seen from the wall.

"finally."

i whispered, plucking it off the branch and sinking my teeth into it. it was just as sweet as it smelled and i was glad i had continued on my journey over the wall. that was at least until i took one wrong step, another branch breaking under me. then it was one branch after another, falling straight on my face in the grass below the tree. i groaned, lifting my head and my eyes going wide. there in front of me was a pair of black leather boots.

"um, i can explain."

i started, looking up and pausing again. there in front of me was the young prince, holding a book in one hand and a pear in the other, looking just as surprised to see me as i was to see him.

"im sure thats one hel of an explanation having dropped from the sky."

he stated and i moved to my knees quickly, bowing in front of him.

"yes, my prince. i am truly sorry."

he laughed and i looked at him confused.

"please, stand."

he said and i did as told, bowing my head.

"i have not seen you before."

"my prince?"

i raised a brow, watching him as he leaned against the tree.

"where do you come from?"

i cleared my throat.

"outside the palace my prince."

he laughed again.

"do you think me an idiot?"

he asked and i stopped breathing.

"of course not, how could you? you are but a peasant."

then i drew my brows.

"now you wait just a minute! i may not be of noble birth but that does not mean you will disrespect me. arrest me, for all i care, but i will not be spoken to like a-"

"relax."

he said and i stopped.

"relax?!"

he shook his head.

"what is your name?"

i opened and closed my mouth a couple times. then i inhaled sharply.

"y/n."

he stood off the tree, tucked the book under his arm, and offered me his hand.

"well y/n, i am of the impression that you are in need of a new dress."

i looked at him funny before looking down at my outfit. i was dirty and my skirt had torn when i fell out of the tree.

"you arent going to arrest me?"

i asked hesitantly and he smiled.

"i am not."

he said and i slowly took his hand.

"my prince i, i dont believe-"

"you dont need to believe, just trust me."

he said and i nodded. i followed him blindly inside, walking openly past the guards up the stairs and down a long glimmering hallway. it didnt necessarily feel right, but something about him made me want to keep walking. to keep following him.

"my prince-"

"call me loki."

he interrupted.

"um, loki, right. uh where are we going?"

he squeezed my hand before pulling me into a room.

"my chambers."

he said and i froze, the door closing behind us. then out of nowhere a woman appeared, bowing her head.

"bring us one of my mothers old dresses. my guest is in need of some new clothes."

he said in a suave tone, the woman walking past me and out the door.

"i dare say, my prince, i am not worthy of wearing the queens garb."

he looked at me and smiled, pulling a chair out from under a small golden table and sitting at it.

"i think she would disagree."

i smiled back in amusement and joined him at the table.

"why are you being so nice to me?"

i asked and watched as he took a drink.

"it has been a long time since someone has been able to get over garden wall and not get caught. i admire that."

i raised a brow.

"so you like that im mischievous?"

i questioned and he smirked.

"exactly."

i made a small noise of disbelief.

"i should have guessed. the midgaurdians call you, what, the god of mischief? it only makes sense you would like someone sneaking into the palace garden."

"my lord."

i heard from the door and both our gaze turned to the girl, holding a blue dress.

"ah yes, a perfect choice."

i watched as he took it from her, shooing her away afterwards. and then he started towards me, making me more curious.

"for the lady."

he said, offering it to me and i smirked at him.

"care to help me put it on?"

i made a face, realizing what i had just asked and almost couldnt believe myself for being so bold. but part of me also didnt regret it. and i couldnt help notice the knowing smile across his face as he led me to his bed. there he laid the dress out and moved to help me.

"a bit intrepid for someone who believed me to want to arrest them."

i looked over his face for a moment.

"theres something about you i cant get off of my mind."

"and that is?"

he asked, stepping behind me and undoing the top op my dress slowly. i just stood and stared ahead as he did so.

"though i know we could both be in large amounts of trouble with the king if he were to find out i am here, i still feel like i can trust you."

i said, looking at him over my shoulder and we both examined each other. his face was soft. softer than before. and the golden light peaking in over the terrace railing made him look more ethereal.

"i can trust you, cant i?"

i asked and his gaze shifted down my face.

"you can trust this."

he said calmly before capturing my lips in his. it was gentle and i could feel my heart knocking a my rib cage to be let out. i was kissing the boy prince. the heir apparent. and gods did it feel great.

"loki."

i whispered when he pulled away, looking between his eyes for any reason not to trust him and coming up with nothing.

"do you still wish for my help?"

he bargained and i nodded.

"i wouldnt want anything else."

it was said in such a hushed tone im sure no one else would have been able to hear it had they been in the room. i stood there as he stripped me slowly. He began with finishing the top of my dress, letting the lacing down and pushing the fabric down off my shoulders. as the dress pooled at my ankles i was left there in my sark, a small shiver traveling up my spine as his fingers traced up my arm.

"may i?"

he asked, placing his other hand firmly at my waist, tugging at the fabric. i swallowed hard, almost feeling like i shouldnt be doing this.

"yes."

i said quiet and bold.

"you are quite the woman."

he noted, pulling the sark up over my head and dropping it to the floor with my dress. i should have felt more exposed standing there naked but my back was still to him.

"Thank you my prince."

I said with some form of sincerity. He kissed my shoulder.

"I told you, call me Loki."

He whispered into my ear, sending goosebumps over my skin.

"Loki."

I half moaned, leaning back into him as his hands found their way to my hips again.

"May I touch you further?"

He questioned and I nodded against him, feeling his hand trail up my torso painfully slow. He kissed across my shoulder, up my neck, and onto my jaw before spinning me around swiftly. I gasped at the sudden movement, looking over his face as he stepped closer to kiss me properly. When he pulled away I noticed his clothes had also vanished, gone in a flash of green.

"May I make love to you?"

He asked, barely gracing my lips with his own.

"Please do."

I whispered against him before kissing him, again and again, until my back hit the soft silk of his bedding.

#wattpad #x reader #Loki Laufeyson #marverl #imagines #one shots #342 #loki #smut?#idk not really but kinda #smut

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 4 years ago

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Mystery Man

Gif credit @stilinski-ortiz-dolan

Happy Reading Dollies

Tag list. @ilovetaquitosmmmm. @twistnet. @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder. @baylishh. @leaalfred. @ifoundmyhappythought. @mayans-mc

Based on a dream I had. So I hope you all enjoy.

You were sitting out on your porch, drinking your iced coffee and catching up on your romantic/thriller book that you started two months ago. Having some me time since the kids were with your parents and the husband was at work.

Everything was going fine and dandy until a biker thug walked up to your front yard. Just staring at you with a grin. You were getting creeped out so you spoke up.

"Can I help you"? You asked inching your way to the door.

"More like I can help you". He replied with a toothy smirk. He sucked on his bottom lip as he looked you up and down.

"Yeah, how's that"? The sarcasm flicked off your tongue.

"I can bend you over that railing and show you a good time". He chuckled to himself.

"Why, dont you ride your bike all the way to hell. Scumbag biker". You hissed as you stepped down the steps. This guy was going to get a piece of your mind.

"I'd like for you to ride me instead". He came so close to you that you could smell his cologne and cigarette smoke. The vein in his neck bulged under his tattooed neck.

"Fuck off". You growled turning your back to him about to go back inside. He grabbed you by the wrist and spun you around, crashing his lips on yours.

You wanted to protest but instead your arms went around his neck. He scooped you up, grabbing a handful of ass and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you up to the front door and kicked it in, walking in and slamming the door with his boot.

The mystery man walked over to the kitchen table. Sitting you down, he broke the kiss. Both were trying to catch your breath. He got in between your legs, running his fingers up and down your smooth legs.

You moaned while biting your lip. Your chest heaving up and down. Goosebumps formed on your skin. His touch burned your skin.

You grabbed ahold of his kutte and brought him in for another make out session. This time you took the lead. Your tongue traces his lips before entering his mouth. He growled at the eagerness from you. His hand went to the nap of your neck and deepened the kiss. You pushed off his kutte and pulled off his shirt to show his chiseled torso, all tattooed and glistening from sweat. It was a very hot day.

His free hand slipped in between your thighs and cupped your pussy. "Mine". He growled in your ear.

With one swift move he ripped your panties off. You gasped.

"You dont wear these around me". He threw them.

"Yes, sir". You nodded.

Quickly undoing his belt and pants. Dropping them to his ankles. His hard cock sprung from his underwear. Making your mouth water as you watched it bounce. Pre-cum stringed along as you touched the tip of his cock.

As you stroked him, he slide his middle finger inside your soaking wet entrance. Pumping his finger in and out.

He removed his finger, brought it to his lips and sucked on it. Sucking your juices off.

You couldn't wait for this mystery man to be inside you. God, you couldn't wait.

He couldnt wait either, he didnt give a warning and slammed into you.

"Ahhh". You cried out as you fell back onto the kitchen table. He was animalistic as he drilled into you. Pounding into so hard the table scraped across the floor. Your breast bouncing in your t-shirt.

You tried to find something to hold on to but there was nothing. Your nails dug into the table.

"Fuck, mamacita. Your pussy is so tight". He grunted as did one deep and long thrust. His hands gripped your thighs, slinging your legs over his shoulders so he could get a better angle.

"Oh god, I cant believe this". You cried out. How were you going to live with yourself after you've done this to your husband?

"Believe it". He threw his head back with a laugh.

You squeezed your breasts as he went faster. The orgasm in your body was on the brink of exploding all over his cock.

Not wanting this to end you held it off as hard as you could. He could see that. Your walls were clenching around him. He brought his hand up to your clit and rubbed it hard and rough.

"No,please. Not yet". You begged. He smirked and rubbed your puffy little clit even harder. You tried to take his hand away but he was too strong. You shook and your back arched of the table as you came on his cock. He didnt slow down he sped up, hitting your g-spot over and over. Making you squirt all your juice on him, the table and floor. He rubbed your clit fiercely. Not giving you time to rest as another orgasm washed over you.

This time your mind went blank and your body trembled. Exhaustion took over. You never had this done to you.

The mystery man was proud of himself. He should get a reward, he thought. His pace quickened and he started to cum. "Oh, fuck" He shot his seed into your convulsing pussy with a grunt. Your walls clenched around him milking ever drop of his cum.

You laid on the table motionless and happy. He slowly pulled out, cum dripped from your entrance.

He took his finger and pushed what he can back into you. "I want this to be here when your husband gets home. Be a nice little surprise". He chuckled as he got dressed. You nodded.

With that he left and you just laid there to what seemed to be hours. Replaying what just happened over and over. Getting all wet again.

Glancing at the clock you saw it was half past five, the kids soon will be home and so will your husband.

You gathered yourself and hurried to the bathroom. You didnt clean yourself like the mystery man said. You put on fresh makeup and new clothes but you kept his cum inside you.

Just finishing up you heard the kids come in and the sound of the truck pull up. Running down the stairs you greeted your husband with a kiss.

You followed him to the couch and sat beside him.

"So, how was your day". Johnny asked as he rested his hand on your thigh.

"It was amazing. Had the best time". Your smiled from ear to ear with a blush upon your cheeks.

"That's good to hear. All the stress and frustration went away"?

"It's like I'm cured". Coco snickered to himself.

"That's amazing. I'll make sure to take the kids to grandma's more often". His hand traveled closer to your pussy.

"We'll have to try something different this time". You leaned in closer and kissed him.

"I'm thinking your leaky pipe needs a plug in it". Coco deepened the kiss.

"Oh, will you help me? I dont know what to do". You answered in a innocent voice. Making Cocos eyes turn into a lustful glaze. You giggled.

"I'm here to help, ma'am. Don't worry, you're in great hands". He pulled you into his lap. His hands went to your ass.

"Wonderful. I need a strong man". You started kissing his neck. Coco moaned, licking his lips.

"Mooooom". You heard a scream come from your daughters bedroom

"Back to reality". You huffed, leaning your forehead against Johnny's. Getting off him. He groaned.

"Kids, you want to go back to grandma's"? Coco mumbled.

"We'll get this again. Dont worry". You sent him a wink then headed down the hall.

Coco shifted in his seat with a smirk. Days like this makes him fall more in love with you.

#johnny coco cruz #coco cruz fanfiction #coco cruz smut #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #mayans fanfiction #happys-crazy-queen22 #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc imagines #mayans imagine #mayans smut

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

The Countertop (Topper,Rafe,Kelce X Reader)

The Best Boys Masterlist

When Rafe got the text he was in the bathroom of the yacht,blood coming from his nose as he stuffed the small bag of white powder back into the pocket of his khakis.He heard the ding,looking over to check the notification.He felt his heart drop,regretting the line he just did.

“Panic attack,(Y/N)’s house.”Was all the text said.Topper had sent it to the group chat with him,Kelce and Rafe.Rafe cursed,looking up in the mirror at his bloodshot,dilated eyes.He certainly couldnt help you,not when he was like this.He pinched his nose for a moment or two,letting it drip into the sink before he rinsed it down the drain,leaving the bathroom and putting his phone in his pocket.

He looked around at the groups of people,eventually finding Wheezie and gripping her shoulders. “I need you to cover for me.”He told her,completely serious.She frowned,looking over at Ward. “Where are you going?”She asked.He sighed,looking over the side of the huge boat to look at the Jet Ski that was tied by a thin rope. “(Y/N) needs help.”Was all he said,quickly thanking her before running down the flights of stairs to get to the lowest floor,gripping onto the railing and getting onto the jetski.

He tucked his phone into the pocket of his shirt,ripping the rope before gliding through the water as fast as possible,guessing on how to get to your house.He knew how to get to his house,at least.So thats where he ended up.He got onto his own dock,sprinting around the front of his house and getting into his truck,going way too far over the speed limit.

He pulled into your driveway,slamming on the brakes so he wouldnt crash into your garage.His door was opened before the truck was even parked,seeing Kelce’s car parked on the sidewalk.Rafe burst through your door,heart aching when he saw you sobbing,Kelce trying to talk to you while Topper rubbed your bare back. “What the hell happened?”He asked,not even understanding the situation.

You opened your mouth,trying to talk but only a sob came out,Topper pulling you back to him and tracing shapes along yout arm,whispering sweet nothings to you to try and help.He sent a glance towards Rafe,shaking his head.Rafe closed the door,sitting on the arm of the couch,slowly stealing you away from Topper and moving onto the couch,letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed too and he could feel your shallow breaths through his shirt.

Kelce was watching you,watching as the tears stopped falling,your eyes puffy and your bottom lip trembling.Rafe felt your grip on him becoming less tight,too weak to do squeeze him.He didnt move his arm away from you,knowing that if you were ready to let go you would push away from him. “What’s going on,princess?”He asked softly,careful to make sure his voice didnt come out harsh or shaky.

You gulped,licking you lips that tasted like salt and metal. “I hate my mom.”Was all you could say,your voice cracking.He nodded,kissing your forehead. “I know,baby.I know.”He answered,taking in a big breath.You huffed,pulling away from him,wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “So how are you guys?”You asked,struggling not to cry again.

Kelce grinned slightly,squeezing your hand. “Im good,sweetheart.Do you want to talk about whats happening with your mom or do you want to be distracted by it?”He asked,tapping at your knuckles.You shrugged,feeling more sick than anything. “Okay,well why dont we go out to the pool so you can cool off then?”He suggested.You nodded,not fully away from Rafe yet.

Something was off with him.His hair looked like he had been pulling at it and he was more tense than usual,seeming like he was holding something back. “Um...you and Top have bathing suits upstairs.”You mumbled,your hand gripping the fabric of Rafe’s shirt.Topper nodded,tapping your ankle before he got up,Kelce giving you a small smile before going upstairs as well.You pulled away from Rafe,feeling your legs becoming tingly and your heart speed up,eyes watery.

“Are you high right now?”You asked,a few tears sliding down your cheeks.He swallowed,looking away from you,eyes widening as he realised that he had just given himself away. “Rafe-you drove here high?”You asked,your voice high,eyes stinging.He nodded,not able to look back at you.

“Jesus Christ-are you crazy?You couldve crashed or died or killed someone!I cant lose you-I cant fucking do it and mom is fucking gone and-and if I lose you what the fuck am I supposed to do?I dont understand why-I dont understand why you cant just-fuck.”You sniffled,trying to figure out what you were going to say.He looked up at you,feeling a lump in his throat.

“You needed me here so I did what i had to do.”He answered,reaching for your hand only for you to pull away from him. “I hate you.”You mumbled,sniffing.His jaw dropped,a wave of nausea hitting him. “You cant mean that.”He whispered.Of course you didnt mean that.You could never hate Rafe even if you really wanted too. “You might fucking overdose or something.”You whispered,wanting nothing more than to cup his face and kiss him,tell him all your thoughts and twirl his fingers in your hair.

He shook his head,glancing over at the staircase every couple of seconds. “I wont,I wont.I dont do that much.”As the words came from his mouth he realised just how bad they sounded. “Bullshit.What happened in my bathroom then?That looked like a lot to me.”You took in a big breath,trying not to let yourself spiral again.

He just stared at you,hearing the other boys coming down the stairs. “We can talk about this later,okay?”He asked,leaning forward slightly.You nodded,looking over to see Topper and Kelce in their blue and grey bathing suits.Kelce stared at Rafe,silently telling him to go get changed.Rafe nodded,prying his eyes off of you and getting off the couch,heading upstairs.

Kelce sat down across from you where Rafe had previously been,his hands in his lap. “Do you need an ibuprofen or a hug?”He asked.You swallowed,leaning forward and resting your head against him,your arms around his bare shoulders. “THis sucks.”You mumbled,closing your eyes.He nodded,running his pointer finger along your spine. “I know,I know.Things will get better though.”He answered,his hands holding both sides of your head as he placed a kiss against your hairline.

You got up eventually,going upstairs to your room to grab a bathing suit,colliding your fist against the wood out of anger.Anger towards your mom,anger towards yourself,anger towards Rafe’s addiction.Rafe stood in the door way,confused as to what the loud bang he had heard was.You didnt notice him,throwing the clothes from your drawers all over the room,smacking the top of your dresser,your jaw clenching.

You brought your arm back to punch the wood again,only for someone to grab your arm,spin you around and push you against your dresser. “You have to calm down.”He whispered,holding tight on your wrists.You avoided eye contact,glancing down at his bare chest. “I am calm.”You replied,pushing him away as you went to find the one peice bathing suit that you had thrown across the floor.

He was just glad that you werent as bad now as you had been the last time he watched you get like this.You had started to punch yourself in the thighs and ankles until they were bruising.He had to pin your hands on top of your head and beg you to calm down.It had scared the living shit out of him.He probably couldve handled it better but Kelce wasnt there to talk to you which left just him to take care of things.

You finally found the black sim suit,not even caring at this point,tearing off your pants and kicking them into the corner.Rafe bit his lip,forcing himself to turn around.He heard the straps of the bathing suit smack against your shoulder,walking up next to him to grab a tshirt from your drawer and pull it on over the bathing suit,leaving your room and not bothering to clean up the mess that you had made.

He looked around your room,deciding he could just clean it up for you later.He followed behind you,noticing that the boys had already gone out to the pool. “Hey,lets talk.”He spoke,stopping you as you walked through the kitchen. “What?What do you want to talk about?”You asked,leaning against the kitchen counter.He sighed,his hands on the marble countertop o either side of you,staring down at you.

“Whatever you want.I’ll answer whatever you want me to.”He replied.You nodded,thinking of everything you wanted to know. “Whatever I want?”You asked.He nodded.“Have you….god,I dont know.Have you ever like….hurt someone when you were high?”You asked,knowing the answer when he started to bite the inside of his cheek. “Yeah,I have.I’d never hurt you though,if thats what your asking.”His hands tightened around the marble,watching as you bit your lip.

“What about Top and Kelce?Have they ever done drugs?”You asked,nearly gasping when you saw him nod. “Did you make them do it?”You asked,dreading the answer. “I didnt force them to do it...Kelce only did it once and he only did one line.Top did three a couple months back.”Rafe answered,being as honest as he could with you.

“When did it get this bad?You used to only do one line a week and now you’re doing like,a line a day.”You instinctively sat on the countertop,barely any space between you two.He cleared his throat,not knowing what to say because he didnt want to send you back into panic. “I know,im trying to get better.I’ve never done it in your house,like ever.You know that.”He reminded you,keeping his distance.

He figured that if he touched you at all you’d become insecure or angry,swat his hand away and probably begin to cry again. “Im not mad at you,you know that,right?”You asked,feeling your nose start to run again.You quickly pulled up your shirt,pinching your nose with the fabric.He nodded,tapping his short finger nials on the marble counter.The conversation went on for probably five minutes before the big question came,the one that you had been dreading.

“Do you have any on you right now?”You asked,not even caring at this point.When the conversation began and you hadnt been shocked by any of his answers you probably wouldve been upset when he nodded.You werent upset,or shocked or even mad.Just numb. “I thought you were out on the boat,”You saw him frown,not understanding where you were going with this. “So how did you drive here?”You asked.He simply shrugged his shoulders,staring down at his feet.

“I jumped off the side and got on the jet ski.”He answered,making you smile slightly. “You got onto the jetski and then drove over here?”You asked,your hand sliding down his arm and your fingers intertwining with his.He became less tense,his other hand no longer gripping the marble so hard that his fingertips were turning purple. “Yeah,I just peaced out.”He laughed quietly,his forehead resting onto your collarbone.You licked your lips,legs wrapping around his waist comfortably.

If only you knew the things that he felt within him when you did that. “Hey,”You mumbled,making him pick up his head a bit. “Do you….do you remember when you kissed me?”You asked,feeling him tense under you,his head moving off of your collarbone,staring down at you.

“Yeah.”He answered.You nodded,hands ending up in your lap. “Did you tell Kelce?”You asked,not even understanding why you had asked that.Kelce had always been extremely important to you.He was the one person you could trust with your insecurities or ask him for coping mechanisms.Now you were starting to wonder if maybe you had a thing for Kelce.

Everyone was making you question your feelings and your sanity. “I mean,I kind of had too.You know how he is,he figures shit out by body language and he knows when something is going on.I dont even know,hes the only one that ever payed attention to Criminal Minds,im not even gonna lie to you.”he replied,biting his lip as he waited for your reaction,only to hear the sliding door open.

His head whipped around,seeing Kelce standing there with water dripping from him. “Are you guys okay?Its been like ten minutes since you’ve changed.”Kelce looked over at you,more specifically the position you were in with Rafe practically on top of you.

“Yeah,yeah we’re fine.I was just talking about life.”You slowly got off the counter,flicking at Rafe’s thigh as you slid past him and walked by Kelce,going to sit in the shallow end of the pool.Kelce watched you,positive you couldnt hear as he entered the house,closing the sliding door and glaring at Rafe. “Did you say something to her?”He asked.

Rafe shook his head,attempting to walk past him only for Kelce to put a hand on his shoulder and hold him in place. “Why does she look more upset than she was ten minutes ago?”He asked,pushing further. “Because she found out that im high and got mad about it.We talked it out and now everything is fine,okay?”Rafe nodded a bit,sliding the door and walking out of the house,Kelce sighing.

Things were getting messy and he was always the one to hold things together.But now he wasnt even sure if he wanted to do that anymore.He stood in your house for a couple more minutes,finally putting a smile on his face and walking back out,seeing Topper kneeling in front of you and splashing water into your face.

You were squealing at the cold water,grabbing Topper by his wrists and pushing him back into the water,his hair becoming soaked and sticking to his forehead. “YOU BITCH!”Topper shouted,throwing you over his shoulder and running through the water and into the deep end,your legs wrapping around him tight so he’d go down with you.

Rafe grinned at your laughing,you rubbing your eyes and slicking your hair back out of your face.Kelce was tense,trying to soften up again but between Rafe’s smirk as he watched you,Topper holding you and the face that so much was happening was making him a bit mad.He stuck his feet in the pool,not paying attention to much except for the clouds that were moving at sloths pace.

He felt two warm hands wrap around his shins,trying to drag him into the water.He grinned,kicking his feet and forcing you to let go. “You’re no fun.”You pouted,elbows on his thighs as you stared up at your friend.He grinned,shrugging at he ringed the water from your hair. “You seem like you’re in a mood,whats up?”You asked,ignoring Rafe’s stare. “I dunno,kind of just stressed.”He answered,holding onto your hands as he moved his feet in circles underwater.

“Did you eat today?”You deepened your voice,grinning as he flicked you on the head. “Shut up.”He smiled,licking his lips. “Do you want to have a movie night tonight?I kind of just want to forget about things,you know?”You asked,tapping your fingers on his chest.He nodded,agreeing. “What movie do you want to watch?”He asked,helping you out of the pool so you could sit next to him.

“I dont know,maybe a horror movie.I feel like it’ll get my mind off of reality.”You replied,squinting as the sunlight hit your eyes,not aware of the silver car that had just pulled into your driveway,someone walking right into your house as you sat at the pool with your friends.

@sweetlittlegingy @nicolefarley603 @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @newsies-yeet @butgilinsky @jjjmaybank @gracelovesbroadway @one-stella @outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off @spn-marvel-nerd @i-love-scott-mccall

Comment with a star if youd like to be added to the series taglist.

#topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton imagine #topper imagine #topper x reader #kelce outer banks #kelce imagine #kelce obx #kelce x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Text

KUROO TETSURO - 3:37AM

summary - you and kuroo play hide and seek in the early hours of morning after the hot nights of mid august prevent you both from falling asleep - fluff

this was actually a prompt written by @emma_ichihara on tiktok that i absolutely needed to write about after i saw it so thank u for that queen <3

warnings - none

The heat in your bedroom was unbearable. Then again, you couldn’t say you didn’t expect it to be as mid august is always going to be a pain to sleep through.

You tossed about in your sheets flailing your arms and legs about trying to get some sort of breeze across your limbs only to flop down in frustration. Grabbing your phone from the side of your bed you checked the time. 2:27AM.

Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen and you put your phone back down only to hear it vibrate on the surface as soon as you let go of the device. Assuming it was going to be a random notification from one of your apps you almost decided to ignore it but something told you to check regardless.

Your eyes once again squinting as they adjusted to the luminous light emitting from your phone contrasting against the darkness of your room. Your heart fluttered as you read through the notification.

2:28AM - tetsoup : i know ur up right now

You unlocked your phone as you typed out your reply. A conversation flowing between the two of you.

2:28AM - thot chan : okay u got me sue me for not being able to handle the heat

2:29AM - tetsoup : would’ve thought after being around me so much you’d be able to handle the hot ;)

2:29AM - thot chan : ur a chemistry nerd u aren't hot

2:29AM - tetsoup : fail ur next chemistry exam for all i care dont ask me for help :(

2:30AM - thot chan : you wound me captain

2:30AM - thot chan : and what are u doing up right now?

2:31AM - tetsoup : same as u genius, this heat is making my body perspire more than what i’d like

2:31AM - thot chan : lmao that means u finna be smelly. go take a cold shower u farm animal

2:31AM - tetsoup : at 2am? i don't think so u imbecile, i have a better solution though

2:32AM - thot chan : and that is?

You stared at your phone expecting a reply quickly but after 5 minutes it never came.

‘Idiot must’ve fallen asleep’

You hummed as you set your phone back down and allowed your head to hit back against the soft pillows on your bed. The heat was still bothering you so it didn’t look like you were going to be getting much sleep, regardless you still tried by closing your eyes and trying to force your brain into drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Not even 4 minutes into your attempt at forced sleep you heard your phone vibrate softly against the wood of your bedside table. Snatching it up towards your face you stared at the notification in disbelief.

2:43AM - tetsoup : im outside ur house hurry up the bugs are eating me alive

This boy.

Swinging your legs off the hurricane of sheets, pillows and your comforter, you dragged yourself over to the window to peek through your blinds. There stood your tall boyfriend with a big hoodie and sweatpants on, signature bedhead with his hands in his pockets patiently waiting for your arrival.

You smiled slightly. He really had your whole heart and you couldn’t deny that even if you tried.

Grabbing one of his hoodies you had ‘borrowed’ you threw on your shoes and quietly made your way to the front door carefully not wanting to disturb your parents and have them question your activities.

“Finally, my body was about to start decomposing from all the bugs attacking me from just standing here.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Kuroo pulled your smaller frame into his significantly larger one as you inhaled the scent of his hoodie. He buried his head into the crook of your neck as he gave it a soft kiss before looking back down at you.

“Come on let's go.”

You hummed in curiosity but allowed the boy to take your smaller hand into his larger calloused one and lead the way to the unknown destination.

It wasn’t rare for you and Kuroo to meet up during the night. Sure you spent a lot of time together most days but there was something about being the only ones out in such public places that made you both feel as if you were the only ones in the world. This feeling never got old to the pair of you as everytime the two of you met up in the earliest hours of morning you would find yourselves falling in love all over again with each other. These hours were the ones you held close to your evergrowing heart.

After 5 minutes of walking through the peaceful streets in your neighbourhood, Kuroo led you to the playground the two of you and Kenma would find yourselves occupied most days after school back when you were all younger. The place was such a public and overlooked one, but you all still cherished the memories created there and would sometimes find yourselves reminiscing on those times whenever you’d come back.

You let go of your boyfriend’s hand as you climbed onto the climbing structure which years ago would’ve proven to be more of a challenge for you to reach the top too. The platform a lot smaller than it used to be, you grabbed the railing and allowed a gentle breeze to run through the locks of your hair.

Kuroo looked up at you, adoration twinkling in his eyes. To him you were everything. He had known you ever since he first moved into the neighbourhood with his dad and grandparents. He used to find talking to others a struggle and found Kenma particularly hard to communicate with. You however, took the opportunity to get both boys to open up more to each other right by the reigns and within your first 6 months of being acquainted with each other, you had managed to get both boys comfortable enough to call you and each other a friend in confidence. For that, Kuroo was eternally grateful and even more so when you accepted his romantic feelings towards you 3 years ago.

“Let’s play hide and seek, you know, like we used to.”

You turned smiling to the beheaded captain. He gave you his signature smirk and turned around.

“You’ve got 30 seconds, be prepared to lose immediately.”

You laughed as he began to count up to 30, crouching behind a slide that you thought covered yourself from his view. It actually took Kuroo 54 seconds to find you and you turned the childish game into a small competition between the two of you, tallying up who could find the other the fastest each time.

It got to your 13th round and this time you were hiding inside the slide. Kuroo had yet to find you and it had been 8 minutes already. This confused you slightly as the usually perceptive boy would’ve found you by now. You climbed out of the slide and onto the platform as you glanced around your surroundings seeing no signs of him.

You raised your eyebrow as you knew the boy surely must be messing with you. He would never actually abandon you especially without letting you know.

Cupping your hands to both sides of your mouth you let yourself lean towards the railing of the climbing structure.

“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo!”

You called out while continuing to scan the area in your view.

What you weren’t expecting was for strong arms to find their way around your waist as you felt someone's hot breath against the skin on your neck.

“I’m right here, my beautiful Juliet.”

You gasped as Kuroo kissed your neck before spinning you around to look at you directly. One of his hands supporting your back and the other moving a piece of loose hair away from your face, he stared into your eyes which twinkled under the stars. You smiled widely at him as he admired your gorgeous face.

He allowed his hand to trail down your neck until he moved his fingers to weave through your hair delicately. Moving his head down, he softly kissed your lips as you melted into his touch. Your hands moved to his broad shoulders as he deepened the kiss making you sigh in satisfaction. You hummed as he drew small circles on your back with his long fingers let your own hands move towards his untamable hair and rake through it resulting in a hum of approval from him.

You both pulled away as you studied each other's expressions. In that moment Kuroo had fallen for you even deeper if that was possible. Every fibre in his being adored you and it took so much self control to not just tackle you off the structure and cuddle you forever. You were his soulmate he was sure of that. The idea of love had never crossed Kuroo’s mind until middle school when you had both grown up a little bit more. He was focused on volleyball and keeping up his grades but you were always at the back of his mind driving him crazy to the point where he felt he had no other choice than to explore these foreign feelings for you. He would argue that by confessing to you, he had made the best decision in his life. You brought nothing but pure light into his life he was convinced you were some sort of guardian angel. You couldn’t be real. You were a living goddess and there were times when he’d feel like you were too good to be true.

The feelings were mutual on your side too. Kuroo Tetsuro had been a challenge for you to get to open up but when he did he didnt hold back on subconsciously taking your heart and occupying your thoughts on the daily. The two of you held such a deep and indescribable love for each other sometimes you felt like it was too hard to contain.

Brought back to reality by your hand caressing his cheek Kuroo turned to you and smiled so genuinely.

“Y/N, I am so so in love with you.”

“I know Tetsu. I love you too. So much.”

You pecked his cheek as he guided you off the climbing structure and onto the soft grass surrounding the playground.

You both laid there in a comfortable silence as you allowed the sounds of distant cars passing through the busy city of tokyo, and the soft sounds of crickets chirping as you cuddled up to Kuroo’s chest.

He wrapped his muscular arms around you and pulled you close to him whispering “I love you” over and over again quietly enough for only you to hear.

The early morning had reached 3AM and you both knew you’d have to make your way back to your homes soon but right now nothing else mattered.

The only thing on your minds was the fact you were both stupidly in love with each other and you would continue to allow yourselves to fall in love over and over again as you stared at the stars whispering small professions of love to one another for the remaining time you spent outside.

Kuroo Tetsuro, a perceptive boy who hadn’t considered love until you came into his life, had never felt such raw emotion in his life and it was these early hour moments which he would hold close to his heart for the rest of his life which he had planned to go through with you by his side.

#kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #oneshot #kuroo x reader #fanfic #x reader

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nicklightbearer · 4 years ago

Text

Not A Warning, Babe, It’s An Order

yet another whf tickling fic! i just cant get enough of these two. this one is a lot longer and a good bit more.... sweet? cute?

in this; virgil didnt die and also nick and jack are Frens <3

“Ugh!” Nick huffed, balling up yet another failed composition and throwing it towards the trash can- at this point, while most of it at the bottom was empty bottles, it was overflowing with similar papers. Ripped, crushed, and ruined.. None of them were right. He couldn’t get down the mood he wanted, not in the slightest- and though he eyed the pills set in a neat bowl on his desk, he ended up shoving those away too and just pressing his head to his hands.

This wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel it, that groove that would inspire him to write a million words all in one night- that focus, that drive.. It eluded him.

From the open window, a cold chill. He’d left it open on purpose, of course- tonight, of all nights, he’d actually hoped that Jack would show up- but so far, nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t listening.

Perhaps he was off indulging in his own hobby. A thought that would’ve once made Nick shudder just made him snort now, and he stood up to grab his guitar.

Maybe this time, he could interrupt the magician’s work instead.

Making his way over to the window, he gave the guitar a few plucks- out of tune, dammit- but with his keen ear for such things, he twisted the pegs just so until the guitar sang as beautifully as ever. He pushed open the door to the balcony, giving a few strums, before settling on a chair outside and kicking his feet up on the railing.

Yes, this would do nicely.

Jack.. Wasn’t actually hunting, not tonight. He hadn’t been, as of late- sneaking off to Nick’s room to get a bit of company now and again, coupled with ‘terrorizing’ the poor man, well.. It’d been doing just fine.

At the moment, he was actually perched on the windowsill of some random citizen- he hadn’t bothered checking who, it didn’t matter- and peering into the window to a bedroom across the way. This house was his target- a doctor lived there with his wife, and it seemed that this particular fellow had taken a vested interest in the bobby’s investigation of the ‘escape’ of Foggy Jack.

Irritating, to say the least. Those doctors gave him the heebie-jeebies.

He’d been there for.. Oh, three hours? It was about three hours when he finally noticed something to break the monotony- hell, the doctor hadn’t even come home yet, all he’d seen was the wife folding laundry and watching the late-night run of Uncle Jack’s show- and it was.. Well, at first he thought he was hallucinating. It wasn’t the first time.

But as the song trailed off, he noted that it was different from recordings. It was as if Nick was playing his guitar right out into the open night air, something like a ballad version of When You’re Gone.

Surely Nick wasn’t playing outside at this hour. Though he tried to ignore it- probably just some other musician practicing- it kept going.. And his curiosity got the better of him.

Sighing, he slid down from the window, dissolving into his usual mist before even touching the ground.

If it was Nick, he’d be rather cross. At the same time, it was definitely a first for him to be doing something like this, and he wondered to what end it was.

When Nick noticed the fog rolling up the streets, converging into a larger cloud as it got closer to his house, he smiled grimly. It had worked- and he wasn’t actually sure how Jack would react to such a summons, as odd as it was. But he needed help- and of all the times Jack had offered, well, he surely wouldn’t be that put off.

He closed his eyes, now crooning the words to his song softly as he felt the fog push up towards his balcony.

“When you’re gone… Baby, it’s a long way home.” He could feel a presence behind him now, but he didn’t bother stopping his playing. It was near the end, anyway.

“Baby, it’s a long way home.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he finished the tune, and lolled his head back to open his eyes and grin up at Jack. The magician was quiet- looked rather neutral, but curiosity glinted in his eyes.

“A wonderful performance as always.” “Why, thank you.” “But I must ask.. It’s nearly midnight, most of the good folk have gone to bed or out to their activities of the night. Why haven’t you?” “I’m glad you asked!” Nick beamed, swinging his legs down and standing up as he grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him inside- not that there was much resistance.

“I have to write a new song. And I’m having a lot of trouble!” “You sound delighted about that.” Nick huffed, setting his guitar down and turning to cross his arms with an irritated frown. Jack merely tilted his head, still not entirely sure where he came into play.

“Well! You’ve helped me before.” “Ah, so it’s like that?”

The way the word was murmured shot a shiver up his spine, and Nick held his hands out placatingly as a cruel smile spread across the magician’s face.

“No! No, it’s not, you big bully. Godsakes.” “Well, do explain.” Nick sighed, stepping over to his bed and flopping to sit on the edge- and, when Jack didn’t move, he patted the spot next to him. There was a brief hesitation before he settled down, hands resting on his lap as he watched Nick almost warily.

“I need a favor.” “A favor.” “Yes. I know you get all excited about- about making me laugh, but I hardly ever get to see you laugh. And I think it would make for a great inspiration if you’d let me have my own fun, for once.” Jack’s face reddened considerably, even if Nick could only peek at the spaces around the edges. He shifted, bringing a knee up onto the bed so that he was facing the magician and leaned forward while clasping his hands together earnestly.

“Please! It’d be a big help, really.” “I..” “And you can- you can have your fun later, once I’m done. Okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “No strings attached?” “Well- I mean- oh, don’t be mean. You know what I meant.” “Mmh. I suppose if it’s such a big help..” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before nodding in agreement. Nick clapped once, already excited. “Perfect! Okay, perfect. Here, you lay down, let me get my pad.” Jack may well have just up and died, with how heavily his blush was- but he complied, laying back on the bed awkwardly before covering his face and exhaling. Nick had scampered over to his desk and ripped the last page off again, completely trashing his original ideas and bringing over the blank paper and pencil to set on his nightstand.

“.. It’s not going to be very comfortable there. Here, up you go.” As he was pulled into a more comfortable position- laying so that he was propped up on pillows instead of flat on the mattress- he was silent. Nick paused for a moment before scrambling to sit on his legs, suddenly rather aware of how awkward the situation could become if he didn’t pull this off perfectly.

“.. And the mask?” “Oh no. Not taking it off.” “Jacky…” The magician peeked through his fingers, watching how Nick’s face fell and his eyes shined. Ooh, he was getting good at those puppy eyes.

He deflated, hooking his fingers around the edges and wiggling it off carefully. The night air felt cold on his exposed skin- especially with how fiery it was from the flustered state he was in.

“There. Happy?” “Absolutely!” Nick’s smile was back, and he laced his fingers together, stretching them a bit before wiggling them a few times- Jack had to bite back a giggle of anticipation- to get warmed up.

“Alright. Don’t cover your face again, okay? I need to see you smile!” “God.” As his palms pressed to the magician’s sides, he yelped at the immediate slam of arms that nearly locked him in place.

“Woah there, Jackaboy- hey, you’ve only gone and trapped me!” “Well- I can’t- aha!”

His fingers curled slightly, and even with his jacket to protect him, the magician had to lock his jaw to keep the tingles that spread across his torso from affecting him too much.

“Come on, you silly boy.. Lift your arms up.” “I can’t if you- if you keep- doing that!” “Doing whaaaat?” The teasing! The tone! He hated it- but as skilled fingers began kneading at his sides, he couldn’t voice any of that. He pressed his arms down a bit harder, jerking as Nick’s hands slid down to squeeze his hips experimentally.

“Gosh, you’re such a baby about it. With all your big talk about how sensitive I am, I thought you wouldn’t be half so bad..” Nick tsked, pulling back for a moment before pushing his hands underneath the jacket and clawing at his stomach. Jack nearly had a heart attack right there, hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the sudden squeak as he squirmed.

“But that’s not right at all! You’re just as ticklish as me, aren’t you? God, what a hoot.” This was it. This was his funeral.

“Imagine if the constables caught wind. Foggy Jack, menace to society- and all you have to do to reduce him to a pile of fluff and giggles is a little tickling.” “Fuck ohohoff!” “Ooh, swears. So scary.” Nick was careful as he pulled one hand out to start undoing buttons- the jacket was soon pushed aside, and he grinned as he ducked his head down. One hand locked on each side, squeezing over and over as his face pressed against the magician’s stomach- and though he didn’t yet do much other than that, the hot breath he could feel through his shirt made Jack buck up in an attempt to throw him off.

“Hold still! Squirmy wormy, squirmy Jacky, my gosh!” “Faha- Fuhuck you-” “Oh, quit the swearing. I’m not going to stop.” His hands drifted up, nails easily drilling against ribs and finally coaxing out a howl of laughter as Jack threw his head back against the pillows. Accompanying this was an even more infuriating sound- a soft ‘oooomnomnomnom’ as he nibbled at Jack’s shirt- and the slight biting feeling only earned more laughter that had now reached a much higher pitch than he’d ever admit.

“Jeez, no wonder Virge likes this snack..” Though he heard the words, he had no time to process them- not now that Nick had deftly undone his dress shirt and buried his face against him, blowing a raspberry square in the middle of his stomach. “NooOOHOHO- AHAHA- NIHIHIHIIIIHIHICK!! NOT THE- THEEHEE-” “Oooooh, yes! That’s perfect, Jacky.” Though he had started pushing at Nick’s shoulders, the musician merely chuckled and pushed his hands up- and from how he started kneading his fingers into Jack’s underarms, the shocks it sent up his arms drained his strength almost completely.

“Tickle-tickle-tickle… Oh, this is rich. No wonder you like doing this.” “Nihihick- plehease-” “Pleeease what? You volunteered.” “Noho! I didn’t- ahAHAHA!” Another raspberry. If he’d been able to form a coherent thought, he’d be thinking about how awful that mustache of Nick’s was for such an endeavor- the way it brushed against his stomach sent shivers across his body and left him breathless from the laughter.

Nick hummed a little as he looked up, reveling in the fruits of his labor for a moment and relishing in the squeals of laughter that now poured from Jack’s smiling mouth. It really was inspiring- the way he thrashed about and laughed as though he were witness to the funniest joke on the planet.. One that Nick had…

That was it!

Nick rolled off of him abruptly, seizing the pad and pencil from where he’d landed on the floor. Jack was still giggling softly, gasping for breath as he opened his eyes and blinked- a disappearing act from Lightbearer was.. Definitely unexpected.

But he heard humming beside the bed, and after fixing his shirt, he peered over the edge to see the musician scribbling on his pad of paper, occasionally pausing to tap the eraser to get a beat before resuming.

He was only the slightest bit disappointed. As he made to sit up, though, Nick looked up- then huffed, standing once again and pushing him back down.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, mister. This is a full song, not just one verse!” Shit. “Now, Nick- really, it can’t be that hard to-” “It is! Now hold still. Wait- I’ve an idea.”

He got on his knees, gesturing for a moment before finding his words.

“Roll onto your stomach. Hug a pillow if that helps.” He complied, and though many spots were now protected by the bed, he had a funny feeling he was going to hate whatever was happening- of course, this was only strengthened when Nick turned his back and settled to sit on his knees. He maneuvered in such a way that he could sit criss-cross, pulling Jack’s feet through his legs and yanking his shoes off with ease.

Oh no.

“Nick- come on, this is getting ridiculous..” “Not a peep! I don’t want any protest, I’ve got to focus!”

Nick hummed the part he was thinking of as Jack buried his face in a pillow- before, of course, using the eraser end of his pencil to poke rapidly at the magician’s feet. The steady stream of giggles he earned was muffled into a pillow- but it seemed like enough, and he started writing again for a moment before repeating his actions. Jack balled up a fist and slammed it against the bed a few times, his legs screaming that he kick but wholly unable to due to their position.

“Nihihick- come on, aren’t you done yet?” “Don’t be impatient! Hey, you ought to be flattered-” He paused, now poking between each foot with every word and relishing in the flurry of flustered snickers he earned-

“You’re~my~muse~for~this~song! Isn’t that exciting?” “Ihi- eheheh- I suppose…” “Hey, if this works, maybe we can try more often! God knows with that album I’m supposed to have coming up…”

A thrill shot up through his stomach, and Jack grasped at the pillow he was strangling to the point where he was certain it would rip. “I didn’t agreehee to ahahany such thing!!” “But you would! Or..” Nick swung around, now facing him properly and giving him a brief break-

“I can convince you~.” Jack’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest- only to have a sudden wave of giggles come out instead, as Nick slipped his hands under his jacket and shirt to flutter his nails up and down the magician’s back and sides.

“Nohoho- you’re awful! Ahahawful!” “Oh, you love me.” “I hahahate ihihihihit!” Nick laughed along with him for a moment before landing a final pinch on one side and grabbing his notes again. Jack grumbled into his pillow, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Of all the things Nick could’ve asked him to do…

But soon, they’d both gone quiet, and the scratching of pencil to paper began to slow- more pauses, more tapping, slight grumbling. Jack risked a peek over his shoulder, noting the irritated expression that Nick had.

“.. Something wrong?” “Well.. This next part. It’s less.. I need that giddy feeling. And it’s not coming.” Jack squirmed his way back onto his back and sat up, pulling his legs out from under Nick- with the lack of protest he must be pretty focused.

“That giddy feeling?” “Yeah. Like- when you take Joy for the first time in… No, that’s not quite it.” He hummed again, tapping the pencil on paper before groaning and shaking his head.

“Smilin’ like a little child, in a candy store.. Like that. Sort of.” Jack was content to watch, the look of focus combined with aggravation endlessly fascinating- and when the expression popped to a surprised look, his eyes widened. Surely not again…

“I’ve got it! I know.” And he tossed the pad onto the nightstand again before turning to Jack- this time, he was determined. Jack winced, a smile already tugging at his lips- but he was taken aback when Nick instead raised his arms above his head. “Tickle me!” “.. What?” “Well, it would work! It has before. That giddy feeling- you’re pretty good at getting it when you want.”

A more menacing smile now found its way onto his face, though a fairly endeared one. Of course, this was much more his speed…

Though Nick had seemed determined at first, that quickly melted into nervous giggles as Jack’s hands pushed under his shirt, nails already scratching steadily at his sides. His arms swayed, wanting to come down from where he held them but staying up.. For now.

“Well, I must say, I greatly prefer this to your horrible torture. We should’ve started here, instead.” “Ghhheheh- thahat’s not- how it works!” “Well, it should be.” He chuckled quietly, slowly making his way up Nick’s torso and almost admiring his dedication- even when his ribs were the target of light squeezes, he kept up, though he’d folded at his elbows to clasp his hands behind his head as he trembled.

“You- ha!- fucking, you’re a buhuhuhullyheehee…” “Isn’t that what you asked for? Please, Mr. Lightbearer, do clarify. You wanted me to tickle you, so I am- what’s the problem?” “Ghhhhheheheh…” Jack paused for a moment, hands resting on his ribs, before abruptly pushing up and drilling into his underarms. Nick yelped before squealing out more laughter, arms falling back down and locking as he covered his face. Judging by how he swayed, he’d probably fall if he wasn’t careful- so Jack carefully guided him to lay down, keeping at his torment the entire time.

“Go on, uncover your face- I’ve barely even picked up the pace…”

Nick jolted, then gasped through his laughter and finally pushed at Jack’s hands.

“Thahat’s- stooohohop, I neeheed to write!” “Aww.. Do I have to?” Jack pouted, but finally let go when Nick squeezed his arms down again.

“Yehehehehes!! Jack!” “Oh, fine.” He paused. “You actually have trapped my hands, though. Ease up.” Nick took a few deep breaths, slowly releasing his arms- squeaking at a final squeeze from Jack before he was released properly. Grabbing his notepad, he shook his hands out to try and get rid of the shakiness before bringing his knees up so he could write again.

“Cover your face… Hm- hmhmmmm.. Mmh, mmhmmmmm…” Jack tilted his head, trying to peek at the writing and huffing when he was swatted away. “I’m not done! No looking.” “Are you using my words?” “No- well, sort of. You’ll see.” He kept humming a few times before shifting so that his back was to Jack.

“.. Hey, do it again. But not so fast. I’m trying to nail the chorus.” “Do what?” “What do you think, you bully?” Jack snorted, settling on tracing his nails up and down Nick’s back- enough to earn a few snickers, and keep him content as he wrote. “What an effort, for a single song.” “You have no idea.” “Mmh, I think I have some. I’ve watched you write the whole thing.” “Yeah, well.. Shhh.” More humming- and quite a few giggles later- he finally set the pad down and pushed Jack’s hands away.

“Okay. That’s the first draft.” “Draft, are you serious?” “Well, I have to make sure it’s perfect!” Nick stretched, though he kept an eye on Jack- of course, the bastard’s hands twitched towards him, but he held himself back well enough. “It’s late. The best thing for me is to sleep on it. That’s why I write so late, so that I wake up with a little inspiration left over.” “Mmh, I see.” He faceplanted on the bed, reaching up to work off his wig; it was a mess, anyways, so it didn’t matter if he just threw it on the floor for later. Jack simply sat where he was, unsure if he was now overstaying his welcome.

“.. Lay down. Dork. You’re probably just as exhausted as me. It’s fine.” Though he hesitated for a long moment, he eventually settled next to Nick- the blush was back in full, but Nick didn’t seem to care. He slung an arm over the magician’s waist, already drifting off himself. Jack sighed softly, now not holding back the urge to gently comb his fingers through Nick’s hair.

“.. Good night, Nick.” “Mmnh, nighty night. Don’t run off.” It was the last request he had- and though he had other places to be, things to do.. Jack smiled fondly at the musician that now snored next to him. He was perfectly happy to wait.

#HEHEHE #we ticklish few #lightbearer #foggy poggy #ticklefic #my stuff

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yeoldontknow · 4 years ago

Text

Ciperion: 1/2

Author: @yeoldontknow as part of the Anchors & Arrows collaboration with @imdifferentshadesofpurple Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader (oc; female) Genre: fantasy!au; shipwreck au; jaebeom is a fisherman; romance; angst; elements of horror; ghosts; eventual smut Summary: Everyone on the Isle Indolon knows the story of Ciperon, though none believe it is true. Over centuries, the tale of the long lost ghost ship on the high seas has become little more than urban legend. In his youth, Jaebeom always thought the story was heartbreaking, and he did his best to avoid it - the same way he avoids the missionaries that have taken occupation on the island. On the anniversary of Ciperion’s ill-fated port date, you wash up on sea, and only you have the answers he’s always been seeking. If only you could remember who you are. Rating (this part): PG-13 Warnings (this part): angst; shipwrecks; references to head trauma; jaebeom does CPR; jaebeom rescuing an unconcious woman; allusions to sexual assault but it didnt happen, he just is protective and misinterprets everything; anxiety; ptsd; vomiting; ghost stories; graphic depictions of violence; mentions of blood; non-major character death; themes of horror; lots of grief; memory loss; jb doesnt really know what to do with himself; mentions of becoming a widow; it sounds really sad but i promise its not that bad; tbh oc is a really great sport Word Count: 17.5K

Three hundred miles off the emerald coast of Isle Indolon, Second Mate Ansil Green looks up at the shimmering night of the dark sky and feels a chill of apprehension burrow deep within his bones.

There are only three days left to their journey, and for five months he has charted each with meticulous accuracy. It is easy to rely on the stars, he thinks. Their steadfast illumination and the reassurance found in their seasonal rotation have brought him immeasurable comfort throughout his life, and not once, not even on nights when storms threaten to eat their way through the ship’s bowsprit, have they ever led him astray.

In the berthing hull, the missionaries say their prayers with tightly clasped hands, while others read their scrolls in preparation for new lectures once they reach the shore. Back in Indolon, Ansil’s wife and two children anxiously await his triumphant return, and everyone, every crew member and stow away rat, is eager to breach land. Even now, he can see it clearly - his wife’s pretty eyes as she laughs, small crescent moons that remind him of the night sky; the youthful, almost violent laughter of his sons as they play in the fields; the creaking if their iron bed frame as he rocks between her thighs, not unlike the ship as she rocks against the sea.

Tonight, he wonders if these simple treasures have fallen too far out of reach, if they have slipped, imperceptibly, out of his grasp.

Because tonight, the stars are wrong.

Gripping the mahogany banister, he leans against the side and cranes his neck, angling his view slightly to the right in the hopes of correcting the pattern. Something about this is terribly wrong, wrong enough that the deepening doubt bites at him, heating his skin like a fever. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he does his best to swallow this worry, attempts, rather meekly, to focus on the light flapping of the mainsail above him, on its rhythmic and soothing white noise that often helps him drift, hazily, through sleepless nights. Now, it offers him little comfort, the wind that moves the ship rustling through his hair, stroking against the shell of his ear, carrying whispers of splintered wood and rocky shores blackened by sea water mixing with spilled blood.

Heavy footsteps make their approach from behind, the purposeful strides and confident gait of Captain Grier L’Allante causing the heels of his boots to shatter the false sense of peace. Ansil does not move to greet his Captain, and while this would be considered an insult on any other crew ship, he supposes Grier has become used to his flippant and yet focused attitude when the stars are out, decades of manning ships alongside one another having reduced the rules of propriety almost entirely non-existent. Keeping his gaze on the sky, he feels Grier come to stand beside him, the heat of his closeness full of pride and awe; admiring the vastness of the sea before him, he exudes an energy that puts a sour taste in the back of Ansil’s throat.

How he hates to ruin the evening.

‘We’re going in the wrong direction,’ he announces, feeling Grier stiffen rather than deflate entirely.

His captain hums in consideration, never one to give over to fear or uncertainty. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at the stars.’ Ansil corrects his posture and regards his friend with pleading eyes. It is, perhaps, the first time he has ever shown signs of fear with his captain, but Grier maintains his composure and presses his lips into a thin line. ‘They’re at the wrong angle by about twenty-six degrees,’ he continues to explain.

Pointing up at the constellation Cassiopeia, he gestures a long straight line back behind him, back towards the foresail, in the direction of Hydra. Turning once again to look at Grier, he waits for some kind of flicker of emotion to pass over his features, and when nothing comes, he simply sighs, pressing his friend for more.

‘This distance shouldn’t be this wide,’ he offers grimly, straightening his posture to stand at his full height. ‘Did we turn?’

‘No.’ Grier barks his reply with forceful authority, though, behind his eyes there is a storm brewing, a brief flash of concern that placates Ansil. ‘I helm this ship myself, and you know in your heart we haven’t turned. You said straight on until dawn, and the wind is steady at four knots to the South-West. We’re still on course.’

In unison, they turn back to the sky, and Ansil tightens his grip on the railing. ‘There’s something bad about this. I can feel it.’

Grier chuckles amicably. ‘What you’re feeling is five months staring at the same bloody lights in the sky.’ His gaze falls on Ansil’s profile, and he can feel him regarding his features with probing scrutiny. ‘You didn’t even take a woman at the last port,’ he states, nudging his shoulder with a force that makes Ansil lean to the side.

‘They’re not precisely the same,’ he admonishes with a laugh. Grier regards him expectantly, but all Ansil can manage is a sigh of longing. He’d love to laugh at this kind of crude joke, and normally he would, but three days is somehow longer than five insurmountable months, the ability to count them transmuting the number into something brutal. ‘And you know I’d never do that to Mala.’

Taking off his hat, Grier runs a hand through the greasy black strands of his hair, grimacing through his laugh. ‘Too loyal for your own good.’

This is something Ansil can tease him about, and he offers his friend an impish grin, taking his own opportunity to nudge Greir’s shoulder roughly, revealing his hidden strength. ‘And your prick is too slippery for your health.’

It’s childish, the way they punch their fists into one another’s arms, the jovial nature of this making him feel as though they are teenagers once again. At once, he is nineteen and Grier has just convinced him to come out to sea, to stow away on his father’s vessel, and they are laughing at the reckless foolishness of this idea. But they are smiling, already hungry for the adventure, already wanting the spray from the waves and the salt that shall never leave their skin. They are young and they are hopeful, and now, even after the bloodshed and the violence and the horror they have seen among the ocean, he thinks they have never been quite as dangerous as they were then.

‘You need rest, mate,’ Grier advises once they’ve settled back against the railing. They look out over the ocean, the water as black as the night it reflects, light of the moon illuminating the peaks of waves and casting shadows behind them as long as the sea is wide. Releasing a deep sigh through the flare of his nostrils, he suddenly becomes alarmingly serious. ‘Otherwise, it’s scurvy.’

A beat of silence passes between them, a pregnant pause in which neither one of them breathes, the word hanging heavily between them both, unwilling to be touched. Until, they erupt into laughter, Ansil leaning against the railing to steady himself atop the wet baseboards. A wave hits the side of the ship and sprays gently against his cheeks, cooling his skin and for a moment, he is grounded in the happiness of this. For a moment, the sky is clear and he can see Grier’s warm, too kind smile; can see the way the ship is heading home, steadfast and unyielding in her journey.

For a moment, there is peace.

Calming his breath, he runs a hand over his face and nods. ‘What I would give for a peach.’

Ansil waits for the inevitable hum of commiseration, a sound of companionship in the memory of the juicy ripeness of Indolon peaches - the yellow of their fruit so moist it would leave their hands sticky for days. He can almost taste the burst of flavor in his mouth, tongue wet in desperation for something other than the salt and brine of oysters and trout, and finds the only consolation for this hunger is that they shall arrive in time for the peak season.

Ansil waits for Grier, but the sound never comes, his captain watching the waves beyond the ship with lips parted in pale shock. Knotting his brow, Ansil takes his time turning to look where Grier’s focus rests, the tendrils of dread rising once more within his belly. The fear in him feels almost inhuman, taking full control of his joints as they stiffen, keeping him rigid and held firmly in place. Grier continues looking out to sea, blood rushing away from his cheeks, likely retreating within to service more important pieces in preparation of survival.

When Ansil finally gathers his strength, he swallows thickly, and looks out to the water. He has lived through war - a great many battles on Naval ships both larger and smaller than this. He has seen dying men beg for both life and death, the fear in their eyes making it unclear which they crave more. He has seen waves rise taller than the ships he crews, seeking an immortal companion for her enduring loneliness.

But he has never seen fog overtake the earth quite like this, or with such wrath.

It comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once, swallowing both sea and sky as it crawls across the horizon. From its center, an ethereal light seems to glow, a beacon to herald the nothingness that surrounds them, but even this light too is a half formed shadow, the core of its rays smeared across miles as it spreads within the clouds. The blood in his ears in unrelenting, the rush of his blood to his thunderous heart making his head begin to hurt as he watches it spread. Has anything ever been so fast?

The fog works quickly to cover everything in sight, racing towards the ship at a speed he simply cannot comprehend. When he was young, and newly appointed to Third Mate Naval Officer, he sailed aboard the Cygnus, the fastest ship Indolon had ever produced - reaching a record breaking thirteen knots in the correct wind conditions. Somehow, this fog is so much faster, ravenous for absolutely everything it touches as the waves begin to still beneath its touch.

The wind ceases.

The waves still, cannibalised by the fog.

And as he looks to Grier, their eyes mirroring the horror they find in each other, he realizes the ship has come to a full stop.

It is when the fog touches the boat that he hears it, the anguished screaming of men beneath their feet. Even at war, he has never heard such terror as this. The sound is born from men suddenly learning that they will die, this death an ambush to the unsuspecting and therefore all the more gruesome in its wake. He regards his feet with a disgust that taints his numbness, the abjection of this noise releasing a myriad of feelings within his veins - the urge to run, the urge to scream, a tightness in his throat so painful he fears he may suffocate on the size of it, and the overwhelming desire to cry. Yet, it seems his body cannot decide upon any of these, and so settles on none, rendering him absolutely and completely silent.

They stand above the berthing hull, listening to the missionaries burst to life for one extraordinary moment before their echoes die one by one, their last breath a wail of anguish. As Ansil takes in a long, slow inhale to steady his growing panic, he can smell the acrid stench of blood and piss wafting up between the boards, bile rising to the back of his throat. The silence that befalls them in the aftermath is threatening, an eerie calm that raises gooseflesh along his skin. Bones brittle and mouth dry, he simply stares at Grier and takes in every detail he can, unfailingly certain this is the last time they will see one another.

In the distant horizon a tall mast looms beyond the mist, the main mast taller than that of their vessel. The crow’s nest is empty, and if he focuses long enough he has the passing sensation he could look right through the wood into an empty, eternal void.

‘It can’t be,’ he whispers, reminding himself it is just a legend and that legends are buried in the past.

They are buried.

His voice carries no echo, the atmosphere around them tight enough his voice lives and dies before him, reaching nowhere else but his own ears. Grier does not even react, does not make any movement at all, save for the shifting of his attention to the world behind Ansil, eyes trained on something that makes his adam’s apple bob in the effort of swallowing his trepidation.

A bead of sweat glides down Ansil’s spine, and he can feel an angry shadow looming behind him. Burning like hellfire, he waits for the scent of his own flesh bubbling beneath his chemise to reach his nose, readying for immolation. Death comes slowly for people like him, he supposes. It likes to take its time weighing the worth of his soul and the value of his existence. He has made love and he has made life, but he has taken far more than he has created, and so he suspects this slow conquering of his person is deserved - retribution for the bloodstains etched into his palms.

‘Ciperion,’ Grier says, eyes widening in sudden, terrible realization.

It is the last thing Ansil sees and hears before cold hands wrap around his jaw, pressing fingers into his mouth and pulling until the pain in his bones, his skin, his muscles is so great the world turns black.

Standing on the old oak dock behind his home, Jaebeom stares out at the open sea and knows that, today, the water is ruthless.

He can feel the rage beneath her waves, the violent and unforgiving aggression of the current guiding the water as it rolls up against the edge of the dock, shaking its legs as if testing the foundation’s strength. The first light of morning is unable to penetrate the intense cloud cover along the horizon, their peaks and valleys tinged with red shadows behind the murky green and black. Awake far too early to begin his descent to the jetty, he balls his fists in the pockets of his linen coat and eyes the gathering storm with suspicion.

Once again, he’s been brought out.

Pulled from his feather bed by some unseen force, it has become a habit for him to spend his early hours on the dock, overtaken by a profound sense of longing. Rooting himself to the wood, he has grown used to the passage of time that drifts beyond him, and finds that he is unencumbered by these lost moments. It’s been happening more often as late, his sleep interrupted by the desire to see and to know, an endless stream of questions burning at the back of his mind that chase the sleep from his limbs. But, always, the words are garbled, the thoughts unclear.

It is worse today - somehow, he knows this with all of his being. Even as he stands, completely alone and unseen, he feels naked all the way down to his nerves. Narrowing his eyes, he peers at the water, unblinking, taking hold of the ache within his chest. Something is missing, has been lost. Or, perhaps, it was taken from him, the intense longing in his chest delivering him a nostalgia too great to be expressed or understood. If he looks long enough, he can almost envision it emerging from the horizon, precariously balanced as though hanging on a thread.

But the image never fully forms, never reveals its nature, and he is left bereft, hissing a sigh of frustration between his teeth.

Gulls pass overhead, making way for the Southern shore. Their calls are the music of the morning, a siren song that only serves to mire him deep within his thoughts, and he blinks several times as he rolls his shoulders back, trying, and failing, to collect himself. The current sends a rough breeze through the thin fabric of his chemise, the uncharacteristically cool summer air nipping at his skin, and he bristles though he does not shiver. Digging his nails into his palm, he struggles to gather the will to leave, every bone in his body telling him he must wait.

Each morning Jaebeom finds himself in this position, looking out to the open water and waiting - wanting to write love letters, wanting to write odes, often wanting to simply cry or curse the tide for what it has taken, but he remains mute, dumbfounded, lingering expectantly for an answer that will not come. And he is angry, muttering to himself that he must leave, that there is no purpose here, but the thought of missing it only serves to aggravate his insistence on keeping still, on looking and looking harder.

‘Come on,’ he mumbles, as if willing a response from the sea.

When nothing comes, the muscles in his arms and thighs tense as he presses himself into the dock. ‘Show me,’ he hisses, emphatically.

Immediately he feels terribly silly, not even certain to whom he is speaking. It is not the first time he has made these demands, not the first time he has called out to the sea as if it would even deign to reply. The answering silence and empty air should neither surprise nor disappoint him, but as his posture curls and his chest deflates, he finds both of these things happen in quick succession. Something is out there, something beyond the place the light touches, and he thinks what frustrates him most is the endless unknowing.

Voices along the shore break his concentration, a group of missionaries walking side by side, barefoot in the warm sand as they talk, sometimes laugh, amongst one another. The sound of their chatter breaks the magic of this hour, an unwelcome interruption to the morning solitude. At once he returns to himself, hands in his pockets relaxing out of the fists he’s been holding, and suddenly he feels rather neutral about his position on the dock, about the ocean, and the thick clouds overhead.

The town has started to wake, the missionaries commencing their morning walk a sign that he is late - terribly late, and the time it will take him to prepare his sails and his nets will likely cause him to miss the golden fishing hour. Closing his eyes, he hangs his head and sighs, certain he will lose the best crabs of the day.

Briskly walking along the shore to the jetty, he keeps a wide berth from the missionaries as he passes. Jaebeom keeps his eyes trained on the rocky jut of the shoreline, keeping his posture rigid in the effort of not being overtaken by the staggering sense of unease that gradually drops his feet to his stomach with each step he takes. He’s certain they must feel this, must feel the crushing weight of his discomfort, and he furrows his brow, swallows thickly, and grits his teeth as he prepares for conversation.

‘Good day,’ they chime in unison, bowing their heads in greeting. The steely chill in their voices makes him shiver. ‘May Deus keep you.’

Jaebeom simply nods politely, but says nothing, finding no solace in their words. On instinct, his attention diverts to the slotted diamond shaped symbols on their rosaries, a sense of nausea rising in his stomach. Lifting his gaze to their faces, he focuses on their features - their eyes, their well practiced smiles, their royal blue square hats - but all the while, he battles against himself, soul willing him with all its might to look, once more, at the rosaries.

Quickening his steps, he hurries past them, releasing a breath he did not know he had been holding. Running a hand through his hair, he chastises himself sheepishly for his disrespectful behavior. He’s old enough now, nearly thirty and well past the age of childish anxiety, to know they are harmless, it is harmless, but still he feels a rattle in his bones even after they have disappeared from view. He remembers the monthly service ceremony - his mother, her pleading eyes, and his frightened distress as she brought him along. Long into the night, he would be plagued with the memory of their long faces and their empty expressions, the fear and hatred in him making him feel sick with fever.

Eventually, he grew out of this level of anguish but still his maturity and his logical reasoning do not serve as a comfort. In the numerous missionaries that occupy Indolon, he finds no refuge, no joy, somehow more sure now, in his old age, than ever of their wrongness.

His schrooning boat is docked at the base of the rocky cliff side, just below the lighthouse and pushed far away from the crowded wharf. As he makes his approach, he feels the eyes of other fishermen bore into his spine, their judgement of him, his lack of a First Mate, a crew, and his placement of his boat always deeply felt at this hour of the morning. But he does not mind.

Since he was small, Jaebeom’s understanding of the sea, of her nature and her cruelty, has kept him at a great distance from his peers. As a child, he preferred to listen - to listen to the ocean and to watch it change, finding a deep affinity in her tumultuous loneliness. This kind of loving relationship, he thinks, has developed into a skill that keeps his family well paid, a roof over his head, and the bellies of many full. Maintaining a crew would simply distract him, his mind less on the water and more on the work of his members.

And while he, too, might have agreed the placement of his boat against the rocks is reckless at best, it is placed where he would catch crabs as a child with his father - the best location to spot their lavender and purple shells as they eat the moss along the stones. And just below, the bright vermillion of the king crabs glittering as they sink to the ocean floor.

Stepping onto his boat, he sheds his linen jacket and cranes his head back to observe the large mast, its mainsail tied neatly at the base with a strong sailor’s knot. Rolling up his sleeves, he lets the sea breeze kiss his warm skin, heated and dewy with moisture from his walk, and watches light behind the clouds do its best to illuminate the land below. The rains will likely start soon, the hours left in the day for adequate fishing conditions dwindling, and so he hoists himself up on the shroud, untying the sail in quick, easy motions.

Climbing up the iron ladder connected to the mast, he reaches for the rope at the center of the sail and latches his fingers, giving one large tug to set the sail free. It flaps loosely in the wind, releasing itself to its full length, and as he makes his way down in the cover of its shadow, he looks out to the lighthouse, admiring the way the tall grass is somehow more viridescent beneath the grey skies as it reaches upwards, asking for rain. Autumn is nestled in the branches of the trees, the peak summer season soon to give way to the burning gold of autumn, but as he regards the lighthouse field he finds it difficult to imagine the world any other way than this. It’s as though the earth has always been green, always been bright, too alive to ever fully be witnessed.

As he takes in the splendor of the earth, letting pleasure root itself against his ribs, he notices, rather curiously, a pile of cloth discarded amongst the rocks. Strewn carelessly across the sharp incline, the ivory cloth has been yellowed and torn, resting long forgotten in the shallows. Narrowing his eyes, he steps off the shroud and leans over the edge of his boat, glad that it is still tied to the fender and not drifting away with the sudden displacement of his weight. As he continues to look, the ivory gives way to the vitality of flesh and long limbs, and his mouth runs dry.

‘By Deus,’ he whispers, the dread in his veins restricting the volume of his voice. ‘It’s a person.’

Limbs moving of their own accord, Jaebeom is carried back to the dock, hands working quickly to remove his boots. Gaze unwavering, he keeps his eyes on the body, transfixed and horrified, afraid of letting his eyes wander for fear of it disappearing altogether. His heart beats like thunder against his sternum, warring with too many emotions and unable to allow any one a victor. Behind the worry, the confusion, the terror, a curious sense of relief is building, a calm that would almost have him believe he is not in the process of coming undone.

If he focuses on it, he gets the sense that this is what he has been waiting for - not just in the morning before the dawn breaks, not just in the crash of waves against his boat and their icy waters demanding his spirit, but for always. In this moment, the hollowed sensation in his heart, the sense of something long absent, is scabbing over with each breath he takes.

Barefoot, he moves at a slow run, something like grief and hope mixing in his blood and putting a swell in the joints of his fingers. Jaebeom stifles these feelings, grounds himself in the reality that someone might be hurt, might be in need, and reminds himself, dutifully, that it is not the time to be carried away with his emotions. Still, there is a tingle at the base of his neck, an urgency that goes beyond humanitarianism, pushing him forward with exhilaration.

'Help.'

A female voice is carried on the wind, musical in its cadence and pleasurable in the way it sings its request. The ocean spray delivers it to him at the same moment the water bursts over the rocks, the sea mist rising up against his cheeks before retreating through the crevices in the earth, cooling the flush beneath his skin. Inside him, it burrows, reaching down and deep to nestle in the long empty caverns of his heart. As he moves over the rocks, carefully placing his feet to maintain his balance, he strains to hear it once more, certain it is a woman he is racing to help and she is begging to be saved.

'Help heal.'

'I'm coming,' he calls out, voice as shaky as his legs and echoing over the ocean’s roar.

He does his best not to cut his toes on the angular shards that have been eroded over years of rough sea water, but with each step he takes the water rises over the rocks with an aggression bordering on feral, demanding all of him within its foam. With each rush of water, he has the feeling it is reaching for his ankles, hands desperate to clutch at his person and drag him down, and down.

Yet, the closer he gets, the more he feels as though he could weep - from joy, from desperation, from loss - and this alone is enough to make him want to rush, pushing through the erratic rhythm of his heart and beyond the lump in his chest that makes each inhale ache. Now, with a clear vision of the body, it is as though you have been spit from the ocean’s mouth, cast out for your transgressions and all the corrupted ways you have disappointed the ocean. There is tragedy in the way you are draped over the rocks, body poised at woeful angles for having displeased the gods. Now, you have been forced to greet the horror of your retribution.

Only a few rocks away, Jaebeom allows himself a brief pause and takes you in, letting his eyes take their time in their discovery of your person. Hugging himself, he suddenly feels conflicted, as though he is learning your shapes while still becoming reacquainted with something long missed. This state of being is a paradox, and in the full emptiness of it, he has the passing sensation that he is learning the essence of love, and little else.

Shaking himself free from his idle reverence, he takes a few steps closer and notices the silk of your dress is ruined, perhaps permanently. His jaw drops slightly at the still gleaming shine of the fabric, the most expensive silk he has ever seen. It clings to your skin, dampened and tarnished, fraying at the ripped edges but still doing its best to hold you delicately, clinging to you in the effort of keeping you safe. Something about the cut of the dress triggers a memory he cannot quite reach, a familiarity in its lines and shapes that make him recall there was a purpose behind this outfit, a reason that it is both extraordinary and unforgettable, but it vanishes from him as quickly as it came. The fog in his mind is heavy, muddling his thoughts and pulling at the edges of his concentration and he knits his brow together to keep himself grounded.

In the aftermath of this brief recollection, he bites a whine of longing burning at the back of his throat, a pathetic sound of loss, regret, mourning. Your hair spills over the rocks, eyes closed and skin bruised though not scraped to bleeding. Flickers of recognition press at him, mind racing around the image of your soft lips, the high angle of your cheekbones, and the delicate elegance found in your wrists. Struggling to recall your name, Jaebeom approaches gently, coming to a kneel at your side, unsure what to say at all.

Pressing two fingers to the pulse point in your neck, he feels a dull, yet ever present, throb of life beneath your skin and releases a breath he did not know he had been holding. Alive, though just barely and unconscious, lungs likely full of sea water. Everything about you is soft, the warmth of life fading quickly beneath his fingers and rendering you terribly fragile, and he retracts his hand for fear of his touch giving bloom to more marks along your flesh.

Glancing around the cliff face, he looks for signs of wood, other bodies, ripped sails or bent iron, but finds nothing. No signs of shipwreck, no signs of a waiting party to receive you. You are alone in this torment, rejected by land and sea, and forced to exist within the limbo of life and death.

Before he can stop himself, he lifts you to his chest, cradling you close as he rises to a stand. If you were awake, you would be shivering, would tremble in the chill that means to overtake your very bones, and he hurries as best he can back to his boat and the woolen blankets he keeps in case of cold summer rains. Moving quickly over the shore, he stumbles slightly, feet tripping over themselves in surprise as he feels you burrow into him, seeking warmth with a low moan, and brow furrowed in what he hopes is simply the effort of healing.

Finally aboard once more, he takes you into the small cabin beneath the helm and tucks you into the straw bed he keeps for nights when the winds are threatening and violent, remaining on the boat in case the waves should do their best to reclaim the wood. Draping several blankets over you, he crawls close enough the heat from his chest could radiate into your skin, encouraging a rush of blood in your veins. His fingers twitch, wanting to brush stray strands of hair out of your eyes, but he presses the flat of his hand into the bed, resisting his urges.

The medic will need to be informed. This realization hits him with a bitterness that speaks of separation, chest restricting and tightening against the air in his lungs until it hurts to breathe. Against his bones, his muscles battle the urge to hold you close and he shuts his eyes with a grimace as a headache blooms at the base of his skull. Yet, as he strains to focus in the quiet of the cabin, he is acutely aware there are no traces of your breath, no labored wheeze no even inhalation, and so he resolutely declares that he will ferry your oxygen, coming to sit up on his knees as he plugs your nose and presses his lips to yours, opening them slightly.

Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jaebeom exhales deeply, letting the strength of his breath travel into the limit of your lungs. Squeezing his eyes closed, he exhales for as long as he can manage, giving everything within himself to you before, all at once and all over again, he feels as though he has stepped out of himself.

Once more, voices materialize at the back of his mind, these new sounds more like echoes that erupt from nowhere and no when, fingerprints of a bygone era carried to him on wings. Their words are a garbled mess of sounds, undeterminable cadences lacking diction or emphasis, but he hears the sound of a man, low and gentle and wondrously tender.

He hears a man, and the man is unmistakably, unfailingly, him.

Opening his eyes, he drinks you in, and surrenders to the notion he is being conquered by the mere sight of you. One word from you, and it would be as violent as a new beginning, a great shattering of all the comforts he knows of the world. And he would welcome it, knows, as if by magic, that he has given over to it before, would give over to it again, the power in you so great only ritual could contain it.

Blinking several times to clear the shock from his mind, he quickly moves his hands to your chest and presses against your sternum in the rhythmic way his sister taught him when he announced he wanted to be a fisherman, just like their father. Her eyes had glazed over then with the memory of loss and strife, and so she laid him on the floor and promptly taught him how to save a life should the sea threaten to claim a man as her own. The muscles in his harms strains as he continues pressing, and he thinks maybe he will need to press his lips to yours once more, bracing, instinctively, for more voices to fill his head, but a rush of water bursts from between your lips and he quickly moves back, turning you to your side to let it drain completely.

Falling back on your side, you release a cough but you do not wake, the small puddle of water between you both at once threatening and sacred, a reminder that everything Jaebeom has seen and felt is real, tethered to this moment. Tethered to you.

‘Who are you?’ he murmurs, but even as he says it, even as the words leave his mouth, he knows this is not the right question.

In the oncoming silence, the correct words swell on his tongue, nearly tumble from his lips, but, instead, he chews the inside of his cheek, aware that the right question will insight a riot in him he is unprepared to endure.

When Jaebeom carries you into his home, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, overtaken by the staggering weight of deja-vu.

He’s been in this position before, holding you against him in the center of his small kitchen as the elasticity of his emotions stretches outward for an eternity. There is an awakening occurring at the very center of his soul, bursting like a new star as its white heat slithers down his spine. Glancing down at you, your soft lips, your closed eyes, and your limp frame, held so closely to him, he feels the earth move beneath his feet, the shifting tectonics of his life all leading to this single moment.

Shaking his head, he releases himself from this, moving to his bedroom with focused steps as he places you in his bed. Igniting the oil lamps, he works quickly to bathe you in warm light, covering you with his down comforter before moving to the furnace tucked in the corner of the room. In summer, he keeps little coal and kindling but he uses the last of the brush wood he’s saved from the recent winter to ignite a small fire that burns red and gold behind the latched closing.

He regards your still form with a frown, running a hand through his hair in distress and grits his teeth. The last several days have been almost unbearably hot, but it seems August’s heatwave has been broken by the cool wind of the day, the overall gloom breaking the humidity and blocking the sun from her usual path. Of all days, it pains him that this would be the day the sea released you from her clutches, sent you from the cold depths of her darkness back to the shore where the sun refused to keep you.

From his kitchen, he takes a small linen cloth, inspecting it for cleanliness, and folds it into a long rectangle. Warming it in front of the furnace, he rotates it in circles before he feels it is sufficiently heated, just enough to ease tension in your muscles and restore heat where you need it most. It warms his hands, palms already swollen and grown clammy, room becoming relatively stuffy as he slides the cloth beneath your neck while you sleep. Already, a pink flush has begun to settle within your cheeks, the relief in him not unlike a rapture.

What will you say when you wake, he wonders. How will you sound when you look him in the eye, unsure of where you are? More importantly, he worries if you will wake at all, if perhaps the rush of blood beneath your skin is the last tour it will take before it stills altogether, heart too sluggish to keep a steady flow. The thought sends a tremor of heartbreak into the base of his spine, and a pained gasp tumbles through his lips, scorning the very notion of the thought.

He needs an occupation to distract, needs a purpose to feel as though there is progress being made, and so he turns on his heel and grabs his coat, supposing that when you do wake, he should at least be ready.

The walk to his sister’s cottage is not long, one that he usually relishes in the spring when the path is lined with blossom trees and the foxes play around their dens, their ruddy tails bouncing amongst the high grasses. Today, his strides are long but the journey feels endless, the path reaching well beyond the limits of the land, his mind thinking only of arrival rather than enjoying the view.

Another group of missionaries passes him along the dirt road, and he crosses to the other side to give himself space, freedom, liberation from their watchful eyes. Offering them sidelong glances, he studies the way they regard him conspicuously, whispering to one another as though he cannot hear the faint sounds of their voices, the conviction of their stares a judgement he feels with all of his body. Do they somehow know that he has found and kept a woman? Have they heard the voices too, the echoes he is resurrecting just by being near you?

He finds he cares little for the answers to these questions, deeming their existence as something infinitely less important or significant in the light of resolute purpose.

Byeol answers the door after three hard knocks, her face a picture of confusion that still does nothing to mar her beauty. She stands just shy of his height, one hand on the door and the other on her hip, the laugh lines along her cheeks carrying a secret smile within them.

‘Jaebie,’ she announces, more a question than a statement. Arching a single brow, her brown eyes bore into his with the chastising admonishment only an older sibling could manage. ‘Shouldn’t you be fishing?’

Jaebeom nods, a noncommittal gesture of affirmation, and presses his way through the doorway, past her slight frame. He wastes no time slipping off his boots as he fumbles for an explanation.

‘Sorry for the unexpected arrival,’ he mumbles, only partially apologetic. ‘Something’s…’ his voice drifts away, eyes looking everywhere but her face as he searches for the right words. To tell the truth means he must tell the whole truth, unable to hide anything from her, and so he settles for one single, vague word. ‘Happened,’ he says, finally.

Immediately, he regrets it.

Byeol’s eyes widen, hands raising to gently cup his face in her palms. Satisfied he is whole, they run down his shoulders to his arms, searching. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, no.’ He pulls himself from her grasp, hands raised in surrender, offering her a sheepish smile of amiable regret. ‘Nothing like that. I, uh, need to borrow some of your clothes.’

She takes a single step back, brow knit together in bewilderment. A myriad of emotions pass over her face, and Jaebeom does his best to count them all, the youth of her features rising and falling between her fear, her amusement, her apprehension. Eventually, she settles on curiosity as her eyes rake him up and down, one hand resting on her chest, perplexed yet surprised.

Rolling his eyes, he turns away from her and moves through her home, heading towards the wooden staircase. ‘They’re not for me.’

Byeol follows close behind, hot on his heels. ‘You’re telling me you…’

There’s too much excitement in her voice, the sound and volume of it making him close his eyes as if bracing for a storm. In one fluid motion, she rounds in front of him to block his path, eyes wide in delight as she makes an inappropriate gesture with her hands.

‘No!’ he scolds, though he finds he must swallow the early threads of a laugh. ‘Not that either.’

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he feels a slight flush creep into his cheeks as she giggles in childish glee. Gently easing her to the side, he continues up the stairs with heavy thuds of his feet. It always amazes him how easily, and how quickly, Byeol can manipulate the atmosphere in the room, her energy always barely contained and always terribly infectious. Questions are burning at the back of her throat, and she follows closely behind, the bounce in her step echoing around the house behind him.

Just like their mother, she will not let this go until she is satisfied, will not let him leave until she has received at least one answer, and so he releases a silent sigh as he reaches the landing, turning down the hall towards her room. He should be commended, he thinks, for the bravery he must assume to endure her interrogation.

‘There’s a woman -’ he begins slowly, only to be cut off.

‘You bastard!’ she exclaims delightedly, slapping his shoulder blade with enough force to make him stumble.

She takes his slight hesitation as an opportunity to run ahead of his once more, the glee in her eyes wild and bright, a look he once found vindictive in their youth. Spreading her arms wide, she presses her hands into the frames of her bedroom doorway, full of impish joy as she stares him down. The love he feels for her blurs together with his frustration, the affection in him rising like a tide.

‘Would you stop?’ he pleads, though now he does not bother to stop his laugh. ‘I just need some stays. A chemise and some trousers, too, if you have them.’

Standing to her full height, she raises her head elegantly, full of self-importance and authority, swallowing her smile for a serious expression of warning. ‘You can borrow them on the grounds that you give me her name.’

Exasperated, he looks away, letting his gaze move to the side and into the small rectangle that is Sun Hee’s room. It’s messy, the bed unmade and several books piled onto their mother’s antique rocking chair. Atop the books, her stuffed crochet kitten rests, presiding over the chaos like a queen. Along the walls, sepia portraits of his mother and father hang beside cross-stitch pieces his sister did while pregnant: one a rabbit, another a bundle of wild flowers, one a vestige of the sea. In the center of the wall, above her small wrought iron bed, a portrait of her father is framed and hung, the frame a silver gilded edge that catches all the light, even when the clouds threaten to block the sun.

When he looks once more at his sister, he sees how his silence and avoidance has riled her further, her wry grin returned once more with all its damning inquisitiveness.

‘Do I know her?’ she presses, narrowing her eyes.

He shakes his head, and offers a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘No,’ he explains, ‘I actually don’t know it.’

Jaw dropping, she reaches forward once more and slaps his arm. ‘Jaebie!’

Dropping his head, he presses his fingers into his eyes and wishes, with all of him, that her assumptions of his perpetual loneliness and solitude were not such a concern. Wishes, more than anything in this moment, that Sun Hee did not frequently ask for an auntie to play with, her lack of a father rendering her wishes for a sibling obsolete. For any other man on Indolon, a woman in his home, let alone his bed, would hardly be news, would hardly warrant any discussion at all, but Byeol has watched him try, and fail, over the years to find a woman who loves as ardently, as openly, as intensely as he does.

She has watched him resort to his life by the sea, watched him spend days alone on his boat, returning at sunset and smelling of brine and salt. All her life she has watched and she has worried, alluding to the full weight of her concern only in jest.

‘Can I please just have them?’ he groans weakly.

Lowering her arms from the doorway, she steps to the side and welcomes him through. ‘Yes,’ she acquiesces. ‘Take what you need from the closet, but this isn’t over. And be quick, I’m on my way out.’

Jaebeom tosses her a silent expression of gratitude over his shoulder, moving through her room with quick steps. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, sliding open her wardrobe and taking things he knows she keeps but does not often wear, certain she will not miss them. ‘Isn’t Sun-hee already at school.’

Byeol moves behind him, gathering her headscarf from atop her bed and tying it with a hum of confirmation. ‘I’m going to Mala Green’s. Her husband’s ship was meant to port two days ago. It never made it.’

Jaebeom stills, clothes draped haphazardly over his arm as he turns to greet her eyes. Together, they regard one another in silence, a cold chill seeming to overtake the room. He remembers the look he sees in her eyes now, remembers the bone deep anxiety and the way she did not sleep for weeks, not even months. In a single moment, it is four years ago and they are both bereft.

‘The Pyxis?’ he murmurs, remembering how he and his sister and his niece, and all the town had watched it sail away from port eight months ago, waving until it disappeared from the horizon.

She nods minutely, a small motion almost imperceptible had he not been watching her intently, looking down at her hands where she nervously picks at her fingernails. ‘She is thinking the worst.’

Dropping the clothes to the bed, Jaebeom takes a few strides and comes to stand before his sister. Letting his hands rest on her shoulders, his thumbs press idle, reassuring circles into her muscles, hoping his expression looks hopeful, at least. ‘It could just be delayed.’

Taking in a shaking breath, Byeol nods but does not lift her eyes to his, gaze trained instead on the unsteady motions of her hands.‘We always like to think that, but…’ Falling quiet, she glances towards her vanity, a distant expression of longing painting her features. He knows she is looking at her wedding photo, but he does not mention it. ‘A woman always knows, doesn’t she?’ she finishes, finally looking at him with an empty smile.

And just like that, in the length of the shallow stretch of her lips, they fall back in time to Port Vela. She clutched his hand as the Aquila departed, the strength in her grip enough to turn both their knuckles white. The intensity of this touching reminded him that to love is to open the heart to grieving, that to love means to welcome the notion of losing, and so he pressed his fingers against hers with the same force, joining her in solidarity.

Even before the missionaries declared him dead, she knew he was lost. The tears she shed in childbirth were not those of bodily trauma but those of heartbreak, once more holding his hand and begging for him to tell her why Dong Hyun wasn’t there with her, why the missionaries were forcing her to believe he was still alive. She said it hurt to know they were teasing with the heart of a widow, that moment perhaps the last time he ever feigned trust in the gods and their mortal vessels.

Dong Hyun had left to deliver a group of missionaries from a nearby port, and they were angry for weeks at their failed return, citing a growing population that needed more help. Jaebeom never knew why they didn’t come to the funeral, his sister and his newborn niece crying in unison against an empty coffin while he pressed his feet into the wet grass. He wanted them to see what their selfishness had done, the rage in him putting a sheen of sweat on his neck, the most angry he had ever been.

‘He’ll be okay,’ he states, pulling them both out of the darkness of their thoughts. ‘They will all be okay.’

It’s a nice thing to say, he thinks, something that sounds reassuring and optimistic, but he wonders, quietly in the back of his mind, to whom he is offering this confidence.

Byeol startles slightly, eyes glassy and slightly glazed over with memory as she takes him in. ‘Yes, well,’ she begins, stepping out his hold to gather her things. ‘It will be good to be there for her.’

Jaebeom watches her move towards the door, hands balled into fists and pressing his nails into his palms. It’s more visceral now, somehow more tangible than ever, the unease he feels when he thinks about their blue cloaks - their endless, royal blue.

‘Launder those when you’re done please,’ she says, coming to a halt and pointing her long index finger at the clothes piled on the bed. ‘I don’t want to be wearing any of your remains -’

Jaebeom’s eyes widen, the spell of his thoughts broken by Byeol’s teasing giggle. ‘Byeol!’

She simply steps into the hallway and moves down the stairs, her laughter carrying through the house as though the sadness had never been let in.

It was only when you said you were leaving, announcing the date of your expected departure with wild eyes and ink stained hands, that he thought maybe, horribly, he had not told you he loved you enough.

You showed him the boarding papers, the crew notes, the bonds list and you were laughing, disbelieving that good fortune could shine on the persistent. Years of work had culminated in this opportunity, and you could not tear your eyes away from the King’s signature, it’s black script so formal you pressed your fingers to your lips to hide the ferocity of your smile. He loved you most then, burning in silence and struggling to find the right way, the best way, to tell you that his love for you demanded he become monstrous, too many hearts in his chest to contain the totality of this wanting.

‘It will be the longest we’ve ever been apart,’ you said, chancing a look at him, and the briefest flickers of grief walked across your face. In an instant, you tucked them away, smoothed your smile over and put the light back in your eyes, hiding from him the very thing that could bring him to his knees.

‘I’ll send a hawk to woo you,’ he offered, the smile tugging at his lips only half genuine, only half true.

He was certain you knew it, too, but you simply chuckled, arched one perfect brow and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

‘You’ve already done that.’

He only had a week to show you that he loved you beyond reason, beyond the human capacity for emotion. One week, and you would be gone, drifting away from him at sea, and he would be waiting, always waiting.

‘Then I’ll do it again.’

Again and again he would do his best to win you over, holding you tightly against his chest and reminding you there was nowhere as safe, nowhere as sacred as against his skin, against his heart. You leaned up to kiss him, always eager and impatient for the things you wanted most, but he breathed against your lips, let your twin exhales unify your heartbeats and reminded himself that you were still here.

He could feel you. You were still there.

Jaebeom wakes with a start, hairline dampened with warmth, stress, and confusion.

The dawn breaks through the sheer curtains of his bedroom window, the heat in the room oppressive and stifling as the embers within the furnace strain to match the gleam of the sun. Curled in a ball atop the lambskin carpet at the foot of his bed, the joints of his knees and elbows are aching, having been forced into one position too long. Tentatively, he stretches his limbs with a low groan, elongating his back against the floor and does his best to remain quiet in his relief.

When he’d returned home, you were still sleeping. Unchanged and in the exact position he had left you, a brief anxiety overtook him at the sight of your too relaxed face and the weakness in your limbs. There was a fragility in you that frightened him, a treacherous sort of quiet that promised great annihilation consuming the room and reaching down, deep within his ribs, compressing his lungs. He would have shed tears for you, would have unleashed an expression of grief so holy and so silent it would have broken worlds - but you moaned, almost regal in your suffering, and, for a moment, he was weightless.

In the tense tranquility that followed he slumped into the reading chair beside his bookcase, head buried in his hands, and sighed. With his eyes closed, he could pretend things had not changed, that he was still himself, that he still belonged to himself. It was as though there were two of him, battling within his blood - the one that knew nothing, that craved the assurance and predictable simplicity inherent in the life he had built for himself.

But the other is violent, a torrent against his bones reminding him this life is not his, that you are his life, and the passion in him is pushed into madness at the notion of not being able to follow where you have gone.

‘All this?’ he lamented into the rough skin of his palm. ‘All this over the desire to be loved?’

The moon was midway through its journey across the sky when he fell asleep, nestling into the rug at the foot of your bed - at your feet, though still giving you the distance, giving himself the distance. And all night he had seen you, felt you, let his whole world become enamored with you.

Pressing the base of his palms into his eyes, he groans, letting the dark become coloured with reds, whites, and purples under the pressure. Rustling from somewhere in the room makes his heart stutter in its rhythm, motions still and muscles tense with the effort of not moving, simply listening. His is not the only breath in the room, and when he takes his hands away from his eyes, his vision adjusts to see you - your face framed by your hair as you lean over the bed, regarding him curiously.

Startled, Jaebeom sits up, head dizzy with the sudden movement, and he presses a hand to his temple though he does not close his eyes, fearing he might still be dreaming. A dark night lives in your irises, hungry for everything that comprises his very being, and even as he lets his vision focus, lets himself recline into the intensity of your stare, he feels as though you are burning inside him, tearing your way through his sinew, the most voracious thing he’s ever seen. You regard him, unblinking, studying every detail and nuance of his features with tension in your brow and parted lips.

Briefly, he wonders how long it has been since someone looked at him like this, looked at him as though he is both the universe’s greatest secret and its most coveted answer.

‘You’re awake,’ he manages, throat dry and voice constricting beneath such coveted attention.

Instantly, he curses himself for such a simple and obvious statement. All night he had imagined hundreds of first conversations with you, knowing his first words with you would ultimately be the most important, and already he has betrayed himself. You’ve taken all the power from him, left him in such a state of shock, he supposes his words have withered, nothing in the world as sacred as your eyes on him.

But the smile you offer him at the sound of his voice could combat the sun, the world brightening around the fullness of your cheeks and the pleasure you keep at the corner of your lips, like a secret. A blush burns at the tips of his ears, and he is glad it does not immediately live in his cheeks, pleased he has learned, somehow, to not give himself away all at once.

‘I am,’ you nod in affirmation. A chill walks down Jaebeom’s spine, the sound of your voice an echo of his dreams, exactly as he heard it all night long. ‘You found me.’

Seconds stretch between your bodies, an infinite eternity between your last syllable and his first breath, his eyes on yours like a pledge of loyalty.

‘Were you looking for me?’

Hope invades his words without his permission, helpless against their desire to be the thing you sought most, to be lucky enough to be your prize. His fingers press into the soft strands of the carpet beneath him, and he watches as you fall back against your legs, shoulders slumped as you look around the room. All at once, emptiness overtakes you, the light in your eyes dimming as you search within yourself for an answer.

‘I don’t know,’ is your whispered reply. Looking at him once more, he feels as though you are rooting within his soul, continuing the expedition within him. But still, you are lost, voice adrift and lost at sea. ‘I can’t remember.’

He smiles encouragingly, wanting you to know, more than anything, that it is okay. For himself, he reminds you both that everything is okay.

Inching along the carpet, he clears his throat as he rests his arms on the bed, gazing up at you as though he is making wishes on the moon. He wants to be close to you - more than he’s ever wanted anything, Jaebeom wants to be in your orbit, close enough he could taste the salt that still lingers on your skin. Biting his tongue, he swallows all his rushed, messy emotions and clears his throat, choosing instead the words of logic, the words of practicality.

‘What is your name?’

Little by little, your smile slowly fades, burned by this simple question. Still, you remain calm, perplexed and unsure of how much of you has truly been misplaced. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s okay,’ he reassures you gently. ‘My name is Jaebeom.’ In saying his name, he waits for a flicker of recognition, a response that would confirm all he has spent the night feeling, but you simply regard him blankly, glad for the conversation. Shaking his head, he sighs. ‘How did you get here?’ he tries, keeping his voice calm so you find no reason to panic or run.

Now, your smile disappears completely and all that is left behind is you, your sadness, and the way it clings to your body like a shadow. The smallness of you in this moment puts an ache in his chest that feels like an inheritance - something he has been owed, that you owed one another having vanished in the completeness of your unknowing, and, together, you grieve. With a slow shake of your head, you confirm there is a void surrounding the nature of your being and the reason for your arrival, and the longer he looks the more he sees how this torments the deep desire that quakes inside you.

He knows nothing of you, knows only that you are here and you are tangible and you are emptied, but still he can sense you are a wild, impossible beast of a woman. The storm in you could tear the world asunder, and so he tries a different tactic, choosing to ask what is felt rather than what can be recalled, wanting to hold onto as much of you as he possibly can.

‘Are you hurt?’

For a long moment, you consider his question, as if thinking through the concept of hurt, the very notion of it, rather than the truth of it. Running his eyes over your frame, he notices that some bruises on your arms have already faded, as if the midnight sky was your healer. You are far healthier and far more whole than the person he found yesterday, but there is a strangeness to the way you look at him, to the way you think through his questions that gives him the passing sensation that you are not there at all.

He fears, all the way down to his marrow, that if he were to look away, you would disappear completely.

‘It does hurt, yes,’ you admit finally. Offering him a small nod of confirmation, your eyes grow wide as though you yourself are surprised by the experience, the ability to truly hurt a clandestine experience.

Jaebeom had feared this. Always, the most lethal of wounds are the ones not worn on the skin. ‘Where?’

Slowly, you lift a hand to your chest, right above your heart. Pain etches itself on your face, the turmoil of bewilderment and confusion, the misery of things long lost, making a home of your soft features. He watches your brow knit together as you regard him, a slight downturned frown tugging at your lips as you silently beg him for answers.

Reaching a hand forward, his fingertips nearly graze the smooth skin of your knee, exposed between the ripped threads of your silk dress. When he’s close enough he can feel the warmth from your skin, he remembers himself, retreating back to curl his hand into a fist.

‘Did a man hurt you?’

He hates the way the words taste, sour and acrid on his tongue, but he supposes this dress is your wedding gown and he’s seen more than his fair share of broken hearts around town. This, of course, would be the worst he has ever seen, but he chooses not to worry you further, keeping his voice soothing and calm.

‘No,’ you shake your head, looking beyond him into a distance that is both contained within and expanding outward. ‘Not one,’ you continue with a dark whisper. ‘Many.’

Jaebeom does not think himself a man prone to violence or aggression but, in a single moment, he feels his heart is a weapon. His spine straightens as he rears back slowly, relying entirely on the support of the floor beneath him. His hands are no longer his own, knuckles taught with the desire to tear his way through flesh and sinew. There is no limit to the monstrous creatures he would face standing up for you; he’s burning, fully ablaze alongside you, and it surprises him how quickly kindness can burn away.

‘We can report it when you are well enough,’ he announces, clearing his throat in the effort of remembering himself. As much as he would go to battle for you, he similarly does not want to frighten you. ‘When you remember the details we can report it. They won’t get away with it.’

Shoulders relaxing, your hand falls away from your chest as you find comfort in his words, and a small sense of pride prickles at his ears and neck. With anyone else, he’d be sheepish that he is giving himself and his emotions away so quickly with you, but he can’t help it, he thinks. Not when you look at him like this, like he’s the part of summer you’ve been anticipating most and are pleased by the mere sight of him. People don’t look at him like this, especially the people he wishes would look at him and want to continue the mere act of seeing him. You make him feel like someone, and he is more with you than he ever has been on his own.

Keeping your eyes on his, you shift so you rest on your hands and knees, crawling across the bed towards him. Jaebeom leans back, pushes himself away from the bed and it is only when the heat from the still burning furnace threatens to sear his chemise that he pauses, looking over his shoulder to pout at the proximity. Your hand presses against his foot, stopping his movements and he returns his focus to you once more, all breath and blood flow halted in his veins.

You’ve climbed off the bed, settled on the floor with your hand on him and a glimmer behind your eyes that says you know he has longed to be touched. Has he been real before this moment? Has he truly existed until the moment you placed your hand on his skin, a paradoxically cold warmth that sends a chill up his legs and into his groin. Until this moment, he has been afflicted with the strangest sense of object permanence, but only of himself - himself and his relation to you, the only thing that has ever truly mattered.

‘You won’t come close to me,’ you explain, sounding terribly sad.

Deflating, he leans forward and places his hand on yours, finally, running his thumb along your knuckles. The salt from the sea has turned your skin into the softest thing he’s ever touched, and he applies just enough pressure to remind himself you are tangible, real, present.

There’s something familiar and, simultaneously, ephemeral about the way his hand moves over yours. He finds it impossible to look away as he explains, ‘I wanted to give you space.’

‘I’ve had enough,’ you counter, and the sharpness in your words has him taking in your lips, your cheeks, your face in wonder. You are every bit the tempest he knew you would be, and he smiles, amused and gladdened by your confident vehemence.

Pulling your hand out from under his, you raise it to the side of his face, tucking strands of hair behind his ear and letting your fingers glide along his cheekbone. The intimacy leads him, momentarily, to believe that he is completely naked, exposed to you in all the ways that could truly break him. Once more, he feels you searching within him for something you can almost grasp. Words live and die on his tongue, answers he too craves fading before he has the chance to truly process them.

You are unified in this complex looking, the act of remembering both a mysterious and a fact.

‘You’re familiar to me.’ Cocking your head to the side as you speak, the childlike curiosity you exude has him pressing his hands into the carpet, reminding himself it is still too early to take hold of you, too early to hold you against his heart as he had done in his dream.

‘Have we met before?’ he offers gently.

Excitement colours you, has you straightening as you pull your hand from his skin. ‘Do you know me?’

It’s his turn to shake his head, his turn to smother hope with little disappointments. ‘No.’

‘Then I suppose not.’

With a slight shrug, you return your hand once more to the side of his face, palm cupping his cheek to trace the contour of the bone. Little by little, your eyes soften and a silent yearning overtakes your features. Jaebeom wants to tell you everything when you look at him like that. Things he’d never breathe to another person, things he had long since forgotten rise up in his throat and he nearly chokes on them, wanting you to have absolutely everything.

Running your thumb over his bottom lip, a blissful sigh escapes from the center of your chest, eyes slightly glazed as you luxuriate in the texture of his skin beneath your finger. ‘I don’t mind, though. I like looking at you.’

How like a child he feels when he is with you - suddenly restless and impatient and young, the boundaries and the calculated logic he has spent years cultivating in his adulthood dissolving the moment he learns you are pleased with him. In his dream, he somehow knew your kisses were a hurricane, all raindrops and wild winds that made his skin feel electric. The way you seem to tear through him now is a confirmation he was correct, the summer in you so immaculate he thinks it is always the bloom of July in your soul.

Were he to look elsewhere in the room, he is certain it would be a betrayal - the treachery of looking away from the gods’ sky. Jaebeom is calmed by the sight of you, the anxious itch in the back of his mind dormant simply because you have decided he is worthy of being adored. He wonders where he has been looking all this time, if he has truly seen anything at all until this moment, the colours of the world infinitely more rich because of how you choose to wear them.

Clearing his throat, he looks briefly at your hand where it holds his foot like a cross and trembles. ‘I like looking at you, too.’ It feels so silly and unimpressive, repeating your words back like a parrot, but he means it - there is more conviction in those small words than any other promise he has ever made and, when he looks at you again, he hopes you can feel it.

Your answering smile is so rich and full, he finds his thoughts are rendered unintelligible, and so he lowers his gaze to the ripped dress that does its best to maintain the echo of its former shape.

Clearing his throat, he slowly pulls his foot out from your grip, skin tingling from the loss of contact. The warmth from your hand still lingers, and he frowns, regretting his decision even through his commitment to the choice. Pressing his hands to the floor, he rises to stand and brushes off his trousers, looking for ways to keep his hands busy.

‘Can you stand?’ You look up at him, expectant and congenial. ‘Are your legs strong enough?’

Copying his earlier movements, you press your hands into the floor and, unsteadily, lift yourself to a stand. For a moment your knees wobble, but you keep your eyes on his, shoulders rolling back as you take in a slow inhale. Finding your balance takes focus, brow knotted together with the effort of standing on weakened muscles, but you keep your feet planted, hands spread at your sides to aid in maintaining your center of gravity. And when you stand, stable and sure, at your full height, you nod proudly, delighted you have surprised yourself.

‘Good.’ The most natural thing in the world, he finds, is praising you; a long dormant habit awakening once more ‘I’m actually not sure what I’d done if you couldn’t,’ he admits sheepishly.

Amidst your infectious giggle, Jaebeom finally has an opportunity to truly take in the state of your clothes. He wonders what torment you have seen, what hell you’ve walked through that has torn the silk and chiffon down to the essence of their threads. The bodice hugs your waist, but the whalebone corset is torn at the ribs, threatening to expose your skin. There will be no saving the sleeves that hang limply off your shoulders, falling behind your back like a ragged cape. Sea water has stained the silk to a tarnished, bleak yellow, the sand of the seabed nestled deep within the folds of your skirts.

Still, too much of your skin is visible to him. The skirts have pulled away from the bodice and a large portion of your thigh remains bare, the other leg free of clothing from the ankle to just above your knee. Standing before him, he sees you as a survivor of a slaughter that bore no claws, and he aches to pull you close, to keep you safe, to remind you that you are whole.

Perhaps, he thinks, the reminder is mostly for himself.

‘I brought you some clothes,’ he announces gently. Gesturing vaguely to the wardrobe in the opposite corner, his nerves get the better of him, words becoming bashful. ‘You look like the size of my sister, so they should fit.’ Running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands to alleviate the tension in his wrists, he pulls himself out of your orbit and heads toward the wardrobe. ‘We need to go into town anyway to see the medic, so I can get you some if these don’t fit properly. I just…’

Opening the doors, he pulls out the clothes he borrowed from his sister- stays for night time, two pairs of trousers, a woolen skirt he remembers buying for his sister one solstice that she has never worn, and three chemises he hopes will fit you. He lays them out delicately on the bed, arranging them into outfits he hopes you find comfortable. Fixating on the trousers, he looks at them too long as his stomach drops. Indolon is one of the few islands where women wear trousers, their propensity for skirts just as enthusiastic and common. He hops the sight of them will not offend you.

‘Thank you.’ Approaching the bed with light, careful steps, the smallness of your voice does little to mask your immense gratitude, hands coming to graze the myriad of fabrics he has selected.

Something about the feel of them between your fingers astounds you, a stunned silence turning adding a weight to the room that did not previously exist.

‘These are beautiful.’ Your hand moves to the skirt, the difference in its texture putting a glee in your eyes that makes his heart swell. ‘Thank you for caring for me,’ you finish, finally looking up at him once more.

Time bleeds past him as he falls into you, falls beyond himself and into a love that consumes him. Around your body, light seems to vibrate, uncertain how to hold you and so it holds all of you, and none of you, at once, bending around your back until he wonders if the very nature of this conversation is merely an illusion. Should he look away, he worries you would vanish, that he might forget, and so he steps near enough that he might touch you.

Keeping his hands forced at his sides, he drowns momentarily in his wanting before he speaks. ‘Anyone would do it.’

Lowering the skirt, you reach up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. A shiver walks down his spine, followed swiftly by an unfamiliar heat in his blood as you speak. ‘I don’t remember much of the world, but I do remember that is not true. Not everyone would do as you have done.’ You lean into him, close enough your breaths touch between your bodies, his entire existence narrowing to this single moment. ‘I’m grateful for you.’

All of him craves giving in to the boundless lust that rages within his chest, memories of his dream resurfacing to haunt his bones. There were other memories within that dream, memories of your body wrapped beneath his, memories of your lips and the way you always pressed hard against his mouth, ensuring he would feel you long after you had departed. Jaebeom wants to live in those memories now, wants to force them into his reality so badly his hands and his sides start to shake.

But in those memories, lives the texture of your skin and the way his fingers have mapped every node of your spine. And it is only when he recalls the distant blur of this experience, so foreign to him it is as though it belongs to someone else, that he remembers there is nowhere in his home for you to undress.

When he had selected this house by the sea, he had assumed his life would contain the dawn, the dusk, the ocean, and little else in between. His home is merely one large square, the kitchen bleeding into his open bedroom and the sitting area tucked into corners he felt would be comfortable. There is, fundamentally, no element of privacy, and this is the only thing, he thinks, that gives him the strength to pull away - the desire to keep you comfortable and to be polite his only saving grace.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, taking one small step back. It is enough for his head to become clear, enough for the sadness in your eyes at the separation to not sting like a bullet. ‘I can leave you to change.’

He moves around you, not really certain what he would say should you inform him you will need assistance with your bodice and corset. They are torn enough and ruined enough he imagines they will not be a problem, but the mere idea of his fingers accidentally caressing the smooth expanse of your back puts a tightness in his chest the magnitude of which has him both frightened and bewildered.

Jaebeom does not want people like this, certainly does not want them this badly and with this much conviction, and so he walks through the bedroom and into the kitchen, the cool metal of the doorknob a balm against his skin. And it is only when he is outside, eyes closed as he lets the breeze overtake his heart, his spirit, his soul, does he feel like himself once more.

It is only when he is in an entirely different location, far enough away from you he cannot feel you, that he remembers to breathe.

The walk to town, by your side, is among the most eventful experiences of his life.

Having roamed the island roads all his life, he has grown used to the view, the unchanging scenery resulting in him finding it to be rather dull and grey. He cannot remember the last time he saw this world with fresh eyes, the last time he took in the trees, the slope of the land and felt joy - the last time this world brought him pleasure. You however, combat the very essence of his ennui with your inherent enthusiasm, taking in every sight and every sound as if it is, not the first time you have witnessed them but, the first time you have reunited with them after many years away.

In you, a language of reconciliation is being cultivated - one that only you will be able to understand, and one that makes Jaebeom cast you curious side long glances as you press your hands together in consternation. Your scrutiny of each detail slows the walk considerably, your presence somewhat distant and hollow as you struggle to define the essence of familiarity within you. Each time, it fades miserably and quickly, leaving you momentarily disheartened only for new wonder to replace the frustration once more.

Through you, he begins to see the town as something eternal, something so long lasting and sacred that, even if it is forgotten, it is still unchanged and important enough to be missed. Selfishly, he ponders what place he held in your old life, if he held any place at all, aware that, sometimes, you look at him with this same questioning fixation. In his own life experiences, you appear missing, but the way you look at him and touch him assures a small, needy piece of his heart that he is remembered, and therefore not ephemeral.

Still, he is certain you have been here, on Indolon, that this is your home and nowhere else. Having decided to forgo the shoes he had taken from his sister in favor of your bare feet, claiming it felt more natural to feel the earth beneath your toes, your steps are confident as you walk. Your eyes take everything in with too much intensity, but your steps are sure, certain of the placement and used to the cracks and the gravel that line the journey. When you are not focused on a building, a face, a view, you do not follow behind him. Instead, you are perhaps just a hair’s breadth ahead of him, relaxed in your inherent certainty.

‘Is any of this triggering your memory?’ he quietly tries, hoping he does not completely disrupt your train of thought.

‘Yes, but at the same time no.’ Your lips continue moving even as your voice dies, murmuring mysteriously to yourself as you look around. ‘It’s like I’ve seen this before in a dream, but then anything can look like anything if you want it to badly enough.’ Offering him a sly smirk, you peer up at him through your eyelashes. ‘I still like looking at you the most, though.'

Heat paints pink smears along his cheeks, and he glances down to his feet momentarily to smile at himself, flattered and, helplessly, twitter-patted. With you beside him, so close, his fingers dig into the pockets of his coat, gripping the cloth in the effort of stifling the desire to reach for your hand.

'Thank you,' he begins, his smile unwilling to fade. Still, he does his best to warp his features into a serious expression. 'I'm glad I'm more interesting than trees and brick.'

The music of your laugh is an eruption, the juicy fullness of it breaking over his tongue and filling his mouth with unprecedented gladness. You are unshy with your laughter, endearingly liberal and letting it echo through the air, demanding everyone hear your pleasure. Jaebeom swallows thickly, feeling almost as though he can taste you on the wind, in his mouth, and he holds his breath wanting to keep you inside him just a moment longer.

'I'm serious,' you tease, nudging into his side

Passing the field of pink and blue wildflowers, you become transfixed by a group of small children playing amongst the grass. Holding hands, they jump and dance in a circle, their laughter interrupting the song they are singing in broken unison. He recognizes the nursery rhyme of Ciperion immediately, remembering how his sister and some of the older children would make him play this game with them, dancing in a circle until the song ended and they had to remain completely still. Always, one of his sister's older friends, usually the boy she had a crush on, would play Ciperion, choosing a victim to steal away from the group. Only then would the circle continue dancing over and over until only one player remained and they had to outrun Ciperion to win.

He chuckles at the memory, how petulant he always felt at being the first one out - always, and without fail. Now, he realizes it was merely because of his strong reaction to being taken that made it more entertaining for his sister's friends, his cries and yells something they would tease him about for days.

‘What are they singing?’ you ask softly, interrupting his thoughts.

Jaebeom hears your voice and looks to his side, finding you are no longer with him. Turning, he finds you have come to a halt alongside the edge of the field, watching the children with a dark fascination that runs a chill down his spine.

He approaches you slowly, looking between the children and you, finding the tether of your fixation to be unbreakable. ‘The song of Ciperion,' he explains gently.

When you look at him again, your inquisitive expression is marred by such a sincere sense of aloneness his throat runs dry. Your prying eyes demand more from him, demand explanations and answers, so greedy and so painfully hopeful he wonders what the word wounded in you.

‘It’s an old urban legend on the island,’ he begins, looking back at the children who have now stilled, a little girl roaming behind the group with her hands raised like claws. ‘Everyone knows it, primarily because we grow up hearing it from friends or parents. It’s really just a ghost story. Parents tell it to make sure their children don’t go too far near the shore if they can’t see them, and kids tell it amongst friends just to see who is the most brave.’

Mystified, you keep your eyes on the group of children. ‘And it’s a song?’

He shakes his head, meeting your eyes on the raised arms and laughing faces of the children, hoping this contact of just your twin gazes is a comfort. ‘Not really, no. It’s a story, but it’s so old it’s become a nursery rhyme.’

‘Tell me.’

Jaebeom hums, trying to remember the way his mother told him this story when he was small. ‘Centuries ago, there was a ship called Ciperion that was meant to arrive at Port Vela.’

At the word Ciperion, you bristle, eyes widening slightly, though if in terror or recognition he cannot tell.

‘It was commissioned by the King, back when there were Kings,’ he continues, watching your reactions in the corner of his eye. ‘In those days, it was the fastest ship ever created, and had been assigned one of the largest crews - they called it the jewel of the sea. The crew was composed of experts in every field - cartography, cosmology, anthropology - and the ship’s sole mission was exploration.’

When you finally look at him, the heat from your gaze puts a fire in his veins, the sheer fervor and earnestness of your attention making him shudder. Swallowing thickly, he continues.

‘Legend says that they reached an island and saw how corrupt the Indolon King had been, how far reaching his power and torment really was.’ In the field, a little boy is taken by a young Ciperion, his scream of surprise mingling with the relieved laughter of the other children. ‘They rushed home to stop him from destroying their land, but the ship never made it. No one knew where the ship had gone, especially because the waters had been calm the night of their intended arrival.’

‘So they all perished?’ Even as the words leave your mouth, your focus turning back to the children, he knows this question is not meant to be answered, a small voice in the back of his mind advising him you already know this answer. Its rhetorical nature is anguished, lost, full of a yearning he presumes no language could ever express.

Coughing to clear his throat, Jaebeom nods knowing you cannot see him, and continues. ‘The lighthouse stayed on for weeks, even on clear nights. But still, Ciperion never came back.’

The silence in you is a sea, and once more he presses his fingers in the fabric of his jacket, warring within himself to keep his hand still. Your own hands look lonely, hanging limply at your sides as though you have been defeated by something much larger, and much more complex, than just your lack of memory. As he studies your changing expression, he counts the emotions that swim over your features - anger, fury, loss, grief, and, strangely, happiness - before you settle on none of these, choosing instead to remain empty.

But the magnitude of this choice renders you disheartened, tears pooling in your eyes, and he watches you swallow, fighting them back to the depths within your heart.

‘There’s never been any proof that Ciperion was real,’ he offers, hoping this will aid in bringing you comfort. It was never real, he supposes, and so there is no need to mourn the loss of made up things.

Yet, this consolation does not help, only serves to insight frustration, hands at your side curling into small fists as your eyes narrow.

Looking back at the children, Jaebeom combats the ever creeping flush at his neck and ears with the rest of the story. ‘Some say that every twenty years, on the anniversary of its port date, you can see the ghost ship Ciperion sailing along the horizon, looking for ways to dock. Only if the night is clear, that is.’

‘And if it isn’t?’ you question, a bitterness biting at your words that takes him aback.

‘If it’s cloudy,’ he offers delicately, ‘the fog along the water is so thick it blocks the lighthouse altogether. It moves up from the water onto the shore, looking for ways into houses or into town as if it has a mind of its own. And if it touches land, you can hear screams in the clouds themselves.’

As if they never happened at all, as if, all along, you nothing of this story had touched a bleeding wound within you, the tears in your eyes seem to dissolve. Your hands unfurl from their fists, and a touch of pink warms your cheeks. There is contentedness all over you, and you turn to face, a pleasant smile tugging at your lips.

‘That’s a nice story,’ you say, simply, blinking up at him in genuine interest.

A laugh bursts from his chest, one that comes from nowhere at all and instead is a bark of surprise rather than a logical expression of amusement. Furrowing his brow, he laughs to himself through the fear and the confusion, waiting for your earlier expression of grief to overtake you once more. But when it does not come, when you giggle along with him merely because it is something to share rather than an honest or sincere experience of humor, he silences himself with a low grumble and kicks the stones at his feet.

‘Yes,’ he agrees quietly. ‘It’s just something we grow up hearing, but nothing ever comes of it.’

‘Is it the anniversary, then?’ You smile up at him, seeming happy to be included in a story, happy, too, to be sharing his company, and you press your bare feet into the stones, making little shapes with your toes. ‘They’re singing with so much fervor.’

‘Yeah,’ he hums in confirmation, watching you draw circles into the earth. ‘Actually, I think it’s tomorrow.’

‘And will you look for the ship?’

Cocking his head to the side questioningly, he studies your face as he speaks. ‘Would you like to?’

‘Are you asking me?’ you press, tilting your head to the same angle as his. The sight of you makes his breath catch, your beauty always somehow the most arresting, the most bewitching, but watching you mirror his position creates an uncanny sense of unease in his belly. ‘I’m not sure what I would be looking for,’ you finish, uncertainty lacing your tone.

‘I’m not either,’ he laments, furrowing his brow as he takes you in. There are so many things he’d like to say to you, only to you, so many things he’d like to ask, but starting feels painful, complicated, as though he’s attempting to speak a language he does not yet understand, so he swallows, drawing the same circles as you with his shoe. ‘I haven’t gone looking for it since I was a kid.’ Your circles are so clean, while his are oblong, and he is unsure why this matters, but he is excited, fundamentally, that there is so much he can learn from you. ‘The last time it was here, I was eight, and even then we didn’t see anything.’

Nodding in understanding you hum, knitting your brow together in consideration of his words. ‘It would be...fun?’

‘If you want to, we can,’ he chuckles, peering at you through his lashes, still waiting for another response of sadness, of melancholic heartbreak to rise up in you again. The legend of Ciperion stirred something in you, touched pieces of your spirit denying access to all else, and he thinks, perhaps, it is the tragedy of lost life and torn wood that triggers memories of spilled blood. Anyone would weep at the horror of this, and so he clears his throat, remembering true horrors are the ones humanity can touch.

‘But,’ he begins, loud enough the children in the field turn to look at them, worrying their play will be halted before continuing to sing once more, ‘you washed up on the rocks.’ Looking at you fully, he feels his chest tighten, remembering the shredded silk and the way your hair wound over the rocks, latching into deep crevices just to keep you safe. ‘People don’t just come from the sea. If there’s a shipwreck somewhere, we’d have to tell the medic and the council. That’s a more pressing ship to be looking for.’

Biting your lip, your eyes grow distant and glassy as you retreat inward, mind racing towards shadowed images that render your voice small and soft. ‘I don’t remember where I was before this.’

‘Sometimes that can happen with trauma,’ Jaebeom advises, and it strikes him that your admission does not bring despair, only annoyance at your failing memory.

Through all of this, not once have you expressed fear at the notion of death, unafraid for your own mortality even after the very essence of it has been threatened and challenged. It hits him now that the only time you have ever been afraid is when confronted with the notion of others experiencing a fate meant for you. One tale of a shipwreck, and so soon were you unmade into a dark beast, woven together by sorrow.

Kicking the stones away from his feet, he tilts his head encouragingly, wordlessly advising that you continue alongside him. ‘The medic is one of my old school friends,’ he explains with a small grin, readying for Stefan’s loud laugh and teasing sarcasm. ‘He’ll be able to tell you more once he can run a few tests. You’ll like him. He’s quite funny.’

Walking beside him, there is a bounce to your step. ‘I remember that I like funny people,’ you announce, tossing him a playful smirk. ‘Maybe I will like looking at him as much as I like looking at you.’

Jealousy tightens itself around his ribs, the selfish desire for him to be the only thing that brings you pleasure rising in his throat like bile. It is an entirely new experience for him, the notion of love that one must remember its fragility, the sacredness of a lover's admiration more divine than the gods. Already, every breath he takes is heavy with you, body and soul hypnotized by your existence, and, in the effort of appearing aloof and affable, he grits his teeth through a humorless laugh.

‘Better not,’ he teases, though the jovial nature of it is almost nonexistent. As soon as he says it, he becomes upset with himself, the statement alone so preposterous and out of his character he shivers to shake the sound of it off his skin.

You, however, do not seem to notice, nudging into his shoulder once more as you continue on the journey.

Jaebeom has not seen the entirety of Isle Indolon, his ability to travel limited by his small income and the availability of everything he needs being centered to the town. However, he has never truly felt the need to explore, their small city of Sunridge Keep the capital of the island and therefore so full and bustling with activity he finds it impossible to muster the desire to leave. Orange red brick buildings decorated with limestone columns line the road, the gravel and dirt of the path turning into smooth cobblestone, warmed by the light of the blazing sun.

Hissing slightly as your toes touch the warm stones, you pull your foot back in surprise, only to place it back down with careful movements, mind racing once more as you take tentative steps forward. Immediately, your eyes are everywhere, touching everything all at once. You are hungry for absolutely everything, reading names of shops, studying faces of strangers as they pass, watching the florist hand out daffodils from her wicker basket as though nothing has ever been so marvelous. The bread maker offers you a warm sticky bun, and you look instead to the man’s face, not to the pastry held in his large palm, studying him as though his name might arrive on your tongue.

Jaebeom guides you away, offering the vendor a dismissive wave of his hand, only to find your eyes latched onto something else. He grows light headed watching the trajectory of your focus, your wild discontent and ravenous hunger gnawing you into a frenzied state of almost savage inquisitiveness. There is not a single thing your gaze does not touch, and occasionally you stop in front of shop windows to look in, eyes searching ever deeper for something familiar.

The center of town always smells the sweetest to Jaebeom, and so he leads you in this direction, hoping that the star shaped expanse and its wide angles will ease some of your tension. Childishly, he plans to acquire some roasted chestnuts, certain their candied deliciousness will provide you comfort even if it does not inspire remembrance. The throng of people eases as he approaches town center, the citadel bell chiming the late early hour, and you pause, looking up into the sky in awe. He’d always loved the bell tower - even if he did not trust the missionaries, even if he made himself believe it was deception that lurked behind their irises and not concern, he always appreciated their music.

Leading you to the large fountain directly in the center of the star, he settles on the warm marble and gestures for you to sit beside him. The rushing water calms his erratic heartbeat, and, yet again, with his eyes closed he can pretend he is small, little more than a boy who belongs completely to himself and to his mother, the whim of his will the only thing that stirs his reason.

‘We have a bit of time to rest here,’ he says, leaning back and closing his eyes as the sun cascades over his skin. It warms him from within, the magic of his childhood returning on the breadth of a sunbeam. ‘I always like to sit here a while before I run my errands. One can never deny music, can they?’

Jaebeom awaits your response, what feels like his very spirit existing in anticipation of you. But when it does not come, his skin begins to tighten amidst another wave of unease, and he opens his eyes to find you have retreated so far within yourself the shock of it lives on your features.

Hands in your lap, your back is rigid and straight, gaze flicking between the citadel tower and the people mingling at its base - up and down and back again, rushing between each as though you will never have your fill, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingernails pick at your skin before pressing crescent shapes into your palms, adrenaline putting you in a state of anxiety so severe he finds he, too, is sitting up straight and watching the crowd for familiar faces.

‘Do you recognize something?’ It takes work to keep his voice calm and soothing, doing his best not to startle you.

‘There’s something wrong with this,’ is all you whisper, and Jaebeom scours the crowd for a sign of injury, panic, even an out of place cart, but he comes up empty, finding nothing untoward in the surroundings.

Once more, he studies every face that passes, every horse drawn carriage that moves past, wondering which of these is the culprit for your turmoil. It is only when your hand moves to his thigh, gripping tightly enough he comes to see your grip as a vice, that he notices what it is that has you so undone.

At the base of the citadel, the crowd has started to dissipate, the smiling faces of mothers and their children departing after receiving their blessings. A group of four missionaries stands, handing out pamphlets and greeting passerby with neutral, unreadable expressions. Their royal blue cloaks catch the late morning sun, the velvet of the fabric gleaming in all their expensive glory, putting cerulean shadows on the limestone behind them. In this way, they are glowing, ephemeral visions that at once are otherworldly and oppressive, the sort of power in their light that would bring one to their knees.

As always, he shivers at the sight of them, but your grip on his leg tightens and when he looks at you again you are murmuring to yourself and he feels his jaw go slack.

‘Murderers,’ you hiss, softly enough that only he can hear but you say the word over and over, voice rising in pitch until your voice dies altogether.

You watch them, unblinking and repulsed, the fear and loathing in you so great he sees you now as a mere apparition of the woman you once were. A great tremor has started to creep through your limbs, body rocking back and forth as though you are at sea, your center of gravity warped as you continue to look and look.

Running his hand up and down your back in an effort to calm you, Jaebeom feels his own voice start to waver. ‘What is it?’

You say nothing, merely shake your head, unwilling to speak for fear that they may hear you. All his question manages to do is inspire another round of mumbling, calling them murderers only to yourself and only to Jaebeom, simply because he is close enough for your voice to reach. His eyes scour the crowd for a discreet way to remove you from the fountain, looking in the direction of Stefan’s practice only to drop to a disappointed frown. In front of the pathway, at his end of the star,a group of people have gathered to inspect a vendor of Veruvian silk.

‘Murderers,’ you say again, and this time it is loud enough that a young boy passing by hears your voice, his eyes widening in surprise.

Jaebeom grimaces apologetically, waving the boy along as he pulls you into his side, holding you close. Even in his state of panic, his heart breaks that this should be the first time he holds to him, the first time you would be able to remember, the comfort his arms reduced to merely a time and a place, and not a feeling. The trembling in your muscles is palpable, tangible enough his hands feel as though they are gripping something monstrous, something absolute in its knowledge and power. In a single moment, you have become something Other, shaking against his ribs with enough violence he fears you may tear the marble of the fountain asunder. Your hand leaves his thigh and comes to grip your seat, fingers pressing against the stone until your knuckles turn white.

He’s certain the missionaries must see you, certain this will turn into something holy and something wholly unwelcome, but they seem to pay you both no mind, their attention devoted instead to the good and to the whole.

And just when he thinks he may be able to ease words out of you, the noise of you reduced to slow, deep inhales between your parted lips and the shaking in your muscles coming abruptly to a halt, you bed over, eyes wide in shock, as you vomit sea water, seaweed, and, most horribly of all, blood at your feet.

Author’s Note: lord god, im telling you i thought this was going to be a very short story but here i am...all this with so much more to go. im just really in love with this world and actually really proud of it? ive never done anything like this and ive been in love with fisherman!jb ever since the dye preview pics came out. ive had this in my mind since i messaged @imdifferentshadesofpurple in may about it and im just so glad it lives. did i make an entire story out of that one promo pic and the oyster dress by alexander mcqueen? sure bet but you cannot blame me.

tag list: @red-exo @heatofmyexoheart @majci @yehet-me-up @lamichellee @ahgishaman @softly-savage-mint-yoongi

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desperatelyfullforever · 4 years ago

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hi :) hope u don’t mind me sharing a recent experience I had, it was my first time ever being genuinely desperate & to top it off it was public! this has been a fetish of mine for as long as I can remember & i feel the need to share bc no one in my life knows abt it besides the people who were w me this night. and tbh im scared of one of them seeing this ask lol irrational ik but idk i feel shameful abt this kink :/ anyways on to the story! my friends & i went out to a club one night & the line was super long which was fine at first. we enjoy long lines especially when we’re drunk & we were pretty wasted. I had to pee a good amount when we left but I didn’t worry bc I knew I could go soon. also, i have a strong bladder so i didnt worry abt getting desperate. the line turned out to be insanely long, we had been there for an hour & hardly moved at all. I have no shame telling people when I have to go so I mentioned to my friend several times that i had to go “bad” but it was a lie that I kept telling bc it turned me on. eventually I started to truly need to go urgently. the line was moving but it had been over 2 hrs & we were still far. it would be another 30-45mins and I knew the bathrooms at this club were crowded so more like another hour. I was drunk, cold, & for the first time ever I felt like I would involuntarily piss my pants. it was exciting but i had I never felt such a strong urge before. I couldn’t stop squirming & I was holding myself in front of people! my friends were being sweet & encouraging me to hold it but they refused to leave the line w me when I begged. they were trying to talk to me but I legitimately could not answer them or think straight bc I was so focused on not losing control. I was whimpering & squirming, everyone around me truly thought I was about to pee. I put my head on my friends shoulder at one point bc I felt exhausted & a little humiliated that I was about to have an accidnet in front of a lot of people. i seriously started to make peace with it in my head even though it hadn’t happened yet. I knew no one would judge bc they knew how long the line was & they could see how desperate I was. we got to a spot in the line where there was railing so I got off my friend & started to use the railing as my support system lmao. on the other side of the railing was the walkway where people who were leaving the club walked by. a guy saw me squirming around & I guess he felt for me bc he ripped off his band & gave it to me which was so nice of him. immediately my friends told me to put it on and go inside but I was holding myself and I couldnt tie it. they helped me tie it while im standing there bouncing with my hand in my crotch and on the verge of tears. i felt so close and couldn’t believe the night wasn’t ending in soaked jeans. they tied the wrist band and then I ducked under the railing to get in but I made a huge mistake. I was so frantic that I didnt think to check my surroundings. a security guard saw me try to skip the line so he grabbed me and told me to get the fuck out. at this point I had one goal so i told my friends to text me & looked for a bathroom. there was a nearby restaurant that looked closed but the door opened & no one said anything when I ran to the bathroom. I was moaning & whining while trying to get my belt off as I rushed into a stall. being so close to relief I started to leak in my underwear a bit uncontrollably. I didn’t even close the stall door I was in such a frantic state. i finally got my belt off & full on started to pee before I could get my pants down & seated on the toilet. they did get pretty wet but I could care less bc I was getting relief & it felt SO good I couldn’t keep my moans quiet. when i finished i played with myself a little but couldn’t cum bc my friends were looking for me. i didnt cum for a while after since i dont live alone but everytime i would think abt it I’d turn into a wet horny mess. when I finally did get the chance to touch myself and think about it, it was the strongest orgasm of my life.

Thanks for sharing, that's not!

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unironicduncanstan · 4 years ago

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the “Tangodeltaindia” blog explained,

aka my brain has cringe spots on it and needs to be inspected by the FDA

hi my names randi/uni and i created a total drama island themed ARG two months ago on a whim that almost no one interacted with bc i started off way too niche and difficult, so i kinda just went increasingly off the rails because i knew most likely no one was monitoring my posts and i could just make a real cursed hidden tomb that could one day be discovered by someone in a goonies esque unveiling. but then i got lice and now im sad and uncomfortable so i’m just gonna explain the entire damn thing in one shot. its absolutely batshit and theres a reason no one uncovered it ok here we go;;;

first of all the name. its so stupid but. ‘tango delta india’ = ‘tdi’ in the NATO phonetic alphabet. it just felt like a funny place to start that implies its gonna be a puzzle blog idk,

moving on to the actual content tho; some of the earlier posts mean p much nothing and were just an attempt to draw people in, such as the mr coconut ‘like if you agree’ or the ‘let him inside hes cold’ posts.

then theres the cipher (x). it was posted shortly after the height of the ‘using total drama reference pictures to make an alphabet’ meme. in case anybody didnt see that; for a while it was a joke in the fandom to take the transparent references of total drama characters, and line them up, using them like hieroglyphics to make translatable pictures. its supposed to correspond to the alphabet, based on the first letter of their first name. an example could be, alejandro = a, bridgette = b, and so on. there was no solidly set alphabet amongst the fandom though, it was self explanatory most of the time so i made my own solid personal cipher key for that blog to make the whole thing easier.

NOW ONTO THE FIRST PUZZLE POST,,,, (x). theres a scene, a string of text, the cipher key, and a link to a decoder. the way to decode it all is to plug the characters on screen into the tangodeltaindia cipher key, and then plug That translation into the decoder website, and then finally paste in the text under the photo.

the website linked is to a Caesar cipher decoder. the Caesar cipher is just a code where the alphabet is assigned to numbers (a=1, z=26), and to encode something with it you can move this pattern however you want as long as you keep the regular sequence of alphabet and numbers. so you could scootch over One letter, and “abc” would now say “bcd”. so on and so forth.

looking at the scene + my own total drama reference cipher, alejandro = A, and the beaver = 1, which gives A1. so you could now follow the link to the website, press ‘decode’, and paste in the text under the picture. the ‘shift’ in the middle is automatically set to ‘7′, or as it shows, a -> h, meaning ‘a’ has been moved over by 7 letters. so if you set the shift to just 1 over, or A1, now you can translate the text. it reads;

“lets start simple. after all, a trail of breadcrumbs begins with a loaf. whats the harm in another long winded fandom meme. another inside joke. and arent you curious whats truly lurking inside?”

edgy! simple! kinda just a test to see if people would do it or not. which they didnt so of course i tried to make it weirder-

puzzle 2; (x) using the exact same translation rules as above. we have alejandro and the snake, which with the tangodeltaindia cipher key means A6. going to the website, putting it in ‘decode’ mode, pasting in your text, and setting the shift to ‘6′ gives you this translation.

“in his eyes are an island. nothing but a dream, born out of going to bed angry. sink or swim.”

this was just hinting around at where the story was gonna go so it’ll make more sense later. something else to note; if you zoom all the way in and look into alejandros eye (’in his eyes’), you’ll see the word ‘Thera’. ~thats a surprise tool that will help us later~

so after this one, there are two non-puzzle posts that are also just hints (i was just tryna see if i could get people hyped), the first is a close up picture of chris with red eyes that simply says “those arent his eyes”, and then a post that says “his real names not chris :)”, they’re again referencing his eyes, and this time further implying theres something fake or wrong about them, or with chris as a person. again, it’ll be explained better later on.

moving on to puzzle 3 (x), another test to see if anyones keeping up (which also failed josdfjsdfkjs), using the same translation rules, dj = a dash or minus, and the snail = 5, “-5″, shift the letter ‘A’ BACK five instead of forward, and you get the simple translation of; “getting harder now.”

puzzle 4 and 5; at this point, there are two images posted within hours of each other that i’ll explain together as they line up. (x) (x)

These are some of the only ones that can be translated from just the tangodeltaindia key directly. They end up a string of numbers, which are latitude and longitude coordinates. The first post, labelled “the lie”, translates into “45.57394802102744, -81.46817207492494″. googling that will take you to maps and show you to a place called Lonely Island in Canada.

The second one, “the truth”, translates into “36.404663113177534, 25.39605673375295″, taking you to Santorini, Greece.

This is where the hints got really out there bc i realized nobody was following along but i still wanted to paint a picture. so this is the set up;;; the idea that the ‘island’ (camp wawanakwa) existing somewhere in canada, is a lie. the ‘true’ location being santorini isnt meant to be taken at face value though. the mythology behind santorini is that a man impregnated a goddess and to escape the wrath of her father (triton), she formed the island (santorini) by having her lover throw clay into the sea, and then she gave birth to her son, Theras, on this island, giving the island it’s Other nickname, Thera.

this is again just a vague implication that the island might not be real at all, or that it was formed through cosmic means.

the next two posts are more non-puzzle hints, the first showing the definition of the word ‘fresh’ (new), and the second being images of total drama backgrounds with no characters and the text reading “they were always empty.” more, admittedly very outlandish implications that the island is some kind of illusion, but again mostly just another try to drag people into the blog.

puzzle 6. (x) this one introduces a new concept to the regular translation rules, some of the characters are laying down. its kinda supposed to imply they’re “dead” and that you need to take their corresponding letters out of the alphabet given on the Caesar cipher page, below the shift. The upright characters translate to “-9″, so you shift ‘A’ back 9 letters. Then remove the letters; “TH-E-R-A-S”, and with those letters taken out, you can finally translate the text.

“he creates life solely to destroy it. to crush it in his hands. he births chaos so that he may have something to control. the power has given him madness. the isolation, arrogance. don't try to stop him, he's already chosen to be unstoppable. his mind is a perfectly crafted prison, one we will all soon be living in.”

this is where the story gets more on the nose. it’s talking about chris, and about him being an unstoppable cosmic force, a diety who can create worlds within his own mind, and he does so maliciously just for power. hes created the campers through mental energy just to torment them. it also hints that his plan is to expand the world of total drama island and engulf the whole universe.

puzzle 7. (x) same as the last puzzle. beaver and moose translate to ‘1-0′ or ten. the characters lying down to remove from the caesar cipher alphabet are “T-U-L-P-A”. this doesnt have anything to do with the modern way some ppl interact with tulpas but just the actual idea of creating thoughtforms, or willing your thoughts into real life creations, referencing how chris has created the entire island and everyone on it solely through his mind. with those letters removed and the shift set forward 10, you get this:

“his psychic power is unfathomable. the reality he bore was just a passing thought. an idea that became so dangerous. he predates the idea of a mind, the minds own ability to recognize itself, his synapses are paradoxically ancient. the island exists only within himself, to torment the souls hes created, and damned from the start. will they ever be free?”

it states that chris is more than a man or even just a diety, hes an all powerful god already, yet he craves more power. the final line, “will they ever be free” is in reference to the campers, which segways into the next arc;;; freeing the campers from chris’ psychic island imprisonment.

puzzle 8. (x) to solve this one you have to translate the top image with the tangodeltaindia cipher key, and add it to the text given, which creates a link. this leads to a PDF, a page from a book written by terence mckenna. he’s a famous ethnobotanist known best for his studies on DMT, the strongest hallucinogenic drug in the world, its also known as the spirit molecule. many people on this drug (without any prior knowledge of this phenomenon) will recount meeting strange fractal beings that can create things in the universe just by speaking them into existence, theyve come to be known as ‘machine elves’, a term coined by mckenna. ill show the most important excerpt from the page;

this is less about the psychedelic drug part and more about the words and ideas, like “punching a hole through a dimension so it pours through” and “if god didnt exist man would invent him”. its more worldbuilding towards chris’ power and cosmic abilities

then come 2 more clues. a picture of chris holding his own body captioned ‘ego death’, and the meaning behind the name ‘chris mcclean’. the latter is another “please look over here” post, but the first is another minor reference to the previous puzzles answer involving DMT and terence mckenna. ‘ego death’ is a term again used with strong psychedelic drugs, its the sensation that your spirit as you know it is literally Dying, and you are instead connected to and a part of everything around you. another reference to chris’ power and how he may look like a man but his body and spirit are connected to the world hes built in unfathomable ways. at this point im cementing the idea that chris mclean is not a mortal man and cannot be fought with mortal weapons

puzzle 9. (x) this one was an attempt to make easier to solve puzzles, and comes with a visual of chris looming over the island. the text is in wingdings, which can be translated through multiple websites found through google. it says;

“s︎o︎o︎n︎ h︎e︎ w︎i︎l︎l︎ s︎l︎e︎e︎p.︎ h︎e︎ w︎i︎l︎l︎ d︎r︎e︎a︎m︎ a︎ n︎e︎w︎ h︎e︎l︎l︎,︎ a︎n︎d︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ w︎i︎l︎l︎ b︎e︎ o︎u︎r︎ o︎n︎l︎y︎ c︎h︎a︎n︎c︎e︎,︎ t︎o︎ s︎a︎v︎e︎ h︎i︎s︎ c︎r︎e︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎s︎,︎ a︎n︎d︎ f︎r︎e︎e︎ t︎h︎o︎s︎e︎ w︎h︎o︎ w︎e︎r︎e︎ n︎e︎v︎e︎r︎ d︎e︎s︎i︎g︎n︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ b︎e︎ f︎r︎e︎e︎.︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ m︎a︎y︎ c︎o︎m︎e︎ a︎t︎ a︎ c︎o︎s︎t︎.︎ t︎h︎e︎ n︎i︎g︎h︎t︎m︎a︎r︎e︎ m︎u︎s︎t︎ e︎n︎d︎,︎ t︎h︎e︎ o︎u︎r︎o︎b︎o︎r︎o︎s︎ o︎f︎ h︎i︎s︎ s︎y︎n︎c︎o︎pe︎ m︎u︎s︎t︎ c︎l︎o︎s︎e︎,︎ b︎u︎t︎ i︎t︎ m︎a︎y︎ t︎u︎r︎n︎ o︎u︎r︎ e︎f︎f︎o︎r︎t︎s︎ o︎f︎ s︎a︎l︎v︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ t︎o︎ d︎u︎s︎t︎.︎ o︎u︎r︎ f︎i︎g︎h︎t︎ m︎i︎g︎h︎t︎ e︎n︎d︎ i︎n︎ s︎a︎c︎r︎i︎f︎i︎c︎e︎,︎ r︎e︎n︎d︎e︎r︎i︎n︎g︎ h︎i︎s︎ l︎a︎s︎t︎ i︎n︎v︎e︎n︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ b︎u︎t︎ a︎ c︎e︎a︎s︎e︎l︎e︎s︎s︎ v︎o︎i︎d︎.︎ w︎e︎ m︎a︎y︎ s︎e︎e︎ h︎o︎r︎r︎o︎r︎s︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ c︎a︎u︎s︎e︎ t︎h︎e︎ s︎t︎a︎r︎s︎ t︎o︎ s︎h︎u︎d︎d︎e︎r︎,︎ b︎u︎t︎ w︎e︎ m︎u︎s︎t︎ t︎a︎ke︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ c︎h︎a︎n︎c︎e︎.︎ w︎e︎ h︎a︎v︎e︎ n︎o︎t︎h︎i︎n︎g︎ t︎o︎ l︎o︎s︎e︎,︎ a︎n︎d︎ a︎ w︎o︎r︎l︎d︎ o︎f︎ n︎o︎t︎h︎i︎n︎g︎n︎e︎s︎s︎ t︎o︎ e︎n︎d︎.︎ m︎a︎y︎ t︎h︎e︎ s︎e︎a︎ s︎w︎a︎l︎l︎o︎w︎ u︎p h︎i︎s︎ i︎s︎l︎a︎n︎d︎ o︎f︎ l︎i︎e︎s︎.︎ g︎o︎d︎ pr︎o︎t︎e︎c︎t︎ y︎o︎u︎.︎”

this is essentially saying that the island, the campers, werent all just created from his mind, but from his dreams. this confirms that he Sleeps, and claims hes going to sleep again soon, and during that time period theres a chance to kill him before he can dream up another world (or season) to control and torment. its also saying that theres a chance killing him will destroy the island and campers, but that its the only choice we would have to end the cycle. hey guys i am so bored and over the years i have been on every stimulant and anti depressant doctors are legally allowed to prescribe and its still just not quite there yet huh

puzzle 10. (x) the video, the title translates to “the island of his eye”. its just meant to encapsulate everything ive already been hinting around at but with real footage and some audios taken from the show, and again, it was me tryna make some lore that was easy to digest and also terrifying to an audience with no other context. the final images are the only new clues, if you pause fast enough you can barely make out the characters that (paired with the tangodeltaindia cipher key) would say “set them free”, and you can also see an aerial view of what is actually called “the eye of argentina”. it is a real island that rotates atop a swamp, it is geometrically perfect and no one really knows for sure why it rotates the way it does or how it was formed. this clue is simply related back to the idea that the island of wawanakwa’s location is not in canada, and that it does not function like a normal island.

puzzle 11. (x) what td blog is complete without a uquiz? anyways, it doesnt matter how you answer the quiz, theres only one possible result. the title is a link to a mega file, which is protected with a decryption key. the image attached to the result, when deciphered, is the randomly generated key to the unlock the file. the image you see from the file is this; (TW for mentions of self harm and eye trauma)

in case this is too hard to read ill transcribe what it says;

“How to escape the dream - accept that there is no dream to escape, and no you to escape it. - believe in it anyways. - sleep on your back. - cover your eyes. - hide a nail under the pillow. - wait for the ringing. - when you first see him, dont call his name. dont speak. - keep your eyes shut. - on the second night, ask where the camp is. he wont respond verbally. - on the third night, you’ll see his eyes. - on the fourth night, you’ll enter them. - you can’t turn back after the fifth night. - don’t try to hide your fears. he knows them before you arrive. - don’t shut your eyes for too long when it becomes too much. you risk losing them. - find chris mclean. - don’t stop till the nail is through the socket. - repeat on the other side. - repeat on yourself. - congratulations. they are free”

this is, believe it or not, an idea that comes from my very own sleep paralysis experiences. ive dealt with it a lot, so why not make a weird ritual thing for an arg based off it ig. so whenever i’d fall asleep on my back, i’d eventually hear this ringing in my ears (or it’d happen upon waking up), and then the sleep paralysis would begin. i only ‘saw’ stuff a couple times but the fear for me was really more about the overwhelming sensation of pure dread that always came along with it even when i was aware what was happening, and i Always got this feeling too that if i opened my eyes in that moment, something was gonna stab them.

so moving on to how that applies to the arg, the first few lines are about how, obviously, the island is not real, even in the lore being given its a figment of chris’ imagination, but you have to enter it anyways, and the only way to do that is to believe its real. then it tells you how to ‘enter’ that world, (btw i didn’t expect anyone to actually follow these instructions if found, but even if they did, the whole ‘sleep paralysis being caused by sleeping on your back’ thing usually only happens if you’re predisposed to having it and only happens to Some people who have it, so the intent was like. never to bring that upon anybody. but if you are prone to sleep paralysis plz do not attempt even as a joke or anything thx)

the parts about hallucinating chris then are as follows, “ask about the camp / he wont respond verbally” , meaning he will show you through a dream instead, one that might look a lot like the video from before. “on the third night you will see his eyes”, meaning you will see the island but not be able to interact with it, or basically, how we see total drama on tv right now. “on the fourth night you’ll enter (his eyes)” references the island existing ‘within his eyes’, meaning you will enter the actual island. the next night chris will sleep and you will be able to enter the island again and find him. the idea with the nail is that, if you destroy his eyes you destroy the ‘island’ within them. wrapping back around to sleep paralysis, the idea of stabbing yourself with the nail afterwards is because sometimes, the only thing you can move during sleep paralysis is your fingertips and toes, and wiggling those can help bring you out of the paralysis. so at first how i used to wake myself up, but it didnt usually work fast enough so oftentimes id just pinch the shit out of my fingers and use pain to make my muscles start up faster.

the next post is a link to a countdown. again, i knew nobody was rly following at this point, but i wanted a little more build up before just dropping the ending. it was set up to end 5 days after the last post, aka the one that mentioned a 5 night dream ritual.

puzzle 12. (x) going all the way back to the normal multi step translation puzzles. the coloring of the cipher is a bit different, and its missing chris, but its meant to be used the same as it was before, these changes are only for dramatic effect. and chris is gone because well. we mentally offed him in the inception dream land last time. so anyways the snake = 6, shift A to 6, take out the letters “R-I-C-K” of the characters laying in their graves, and you get this translation;

“its almost time. we must now crack open our minds like a crowbar to a sealed chest. like an egg to a pan. to find our way into camp wawanakwa our ego cannot remain intact, and to traverse it we must stay strong. to escape it, we must glue the pieces back together. now we sleep. dream. end the nightmare.”

this is a final message before ‘entering the island’ to kill chris and free the campers from the island. it acts like a pep talk.

the next post is just the countdown ending.

puzzle 13 (the finale). (x)

this post sends you to a new blog entirely, called @awakenfromthenightmare. there is only one post on it. the post has another link to a mega file, and the link is attached onto a string of text. follow the link by clicking, then copy the text and paste it in as the decryption key. now you have another image to translate with the tangodeltaindia cipher;

when translated, the text is another link to a youtube video.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

so there you have it, that video is the ending to the entire arg. it didnt really end the way i wanted at first, i got burnt out from no engagement about halfway through which isnt anybody elses fault, but i still felt this was a well crafted and fitting finale. thank you all for reading.

#tw self harm ment./ //#tw eye trauma / //#tw unreality// //#tw drug ment/ //#long post/ //#like a mile long just look at the tws its a rabbit hol e

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