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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months ago

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CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A PART 2 FOR THE KILLER CLOWN POOKIE :((((

A/N: Long awaited, took me forever to actually finish, but HERE IT IS. I really struggled making an interesting part 2, so I hope you find it mildly interesting anon (-‿-")

Link to 1st part found here!

TW: Murderous killer clown, mentions of past killings, blood, kidnapped reader, forced close proximity, isolation torture

Synopsis: Kidnapped by your killer clown stalker, you navigate being stuck in his toy room and being fed a very personal dinner, all while trying to avoid his loving insanity.

A room full of dolls, no matter their origin or purpose, is never an endearing sight. You swore even if the off-putting, Raggedy Ann and porcelain, dust-ridden dolls were anime figurines and children’s collectibles, you wouldn’t feel any safer in this hellscape. “Your punishment” he called it, and a punishment it was. Like a child made to spend the rest of the day in its bedroom, you were tied snuggly to the recliner chair in birthday string, forced to stare back at the eyes and broken limbs of endless toys. Of his, toys. Was this room part of the abandoned warehouse connected to the shit hole he called his home? Why did this room smell so repugnantly of petrichor and mold, when the rest of the “house” was either doused in bleach or rot that made your nose so dry it bled?

Maybe, if you had ever learned to properly meditate, the hours in here wouldn’t feel so head-splitting. The darkness nearly brought you to insanity, begging for the arrival of your captor to come slinking back in with another microwaved meal. You would’ve welcomed his manic personality and demented point of view, if it meant you could hear anything besides the echo of your own thoughts and the crushing sound of an analog clock's ticking.

If only you were smarter, stronger, faster. You could’ve gotten out sooner, could’ve kept yourself away from this kidnapping entirely. But it was your stubbornness that led you to be “disciplined”, inside the toy room. Two hours ago on the shelf behind you, an old fire truck (you guessed, from the siren sound and reflecting red) went off, falling to the floor and proceeding to wail for several minutes. Even with your erratic, terror-stricken sobs leading you to beg for freedom from this room, your captor never unbolted the door.

You hadn’t even heard his footsteps from the other side. Maybe he was out luring another victim, adding to the stockpile of bloody buckets in the closet, or perhaps your replacement-- a relieving sentiment. But you knew, from the hours he droned on about soulmates and how your appreciation of him that night that seemed years ago, you weren’t going anywhere. Atleast, not without provocation.

Your exhaustion didn’t let you care if there was someone chained in the woodcutting section of the warehouse, if there was another layer of gore on the ground. You just wanted out from here, food in your gnawing stomach. You could even pretend to apologize, to care for him. Okay, maybe not that far, but you could give a convincing act. By now, you were sorry. Sorry you didn’t open your mouth to his prodding questions, didn’t comply when now it feels like it would’ve been so easy.

You licked at the corner of your mouth, hoping a salty, fallen tear could reach your tongue. Your lips were so cracked, you’d give anything for chapstick, for some water to cover your sawdusted throat.

So hoarse from screaming and wracking with sobs, you wondered if this was how he was planning to kill you. The day was inevitable, after what you’d seen him do… but, you really thought it’d be more horrific than this, more… agonizing. Maybe you should be grateful. Dehydration really isn’t too bad compared to drawing blood or whatever sick, Saw-type torture he had in mind.

And like that, when you were near accepting this newfound death, Satan spoke.

The creak of an industrial metal door respunded in your pounding head, your neck snapping and cracking to look toward it's screech.

“Hm-- I thought I let you out before I left.” His signature, raspy voice rendered muffled under his mask. “How long have you been in here?”

The swift blade of a hunting knife came to the back of the recliner, letting the tight ribbon binding your hands and body fall to the ground, harmlessly. It looked so small now, so thin and fitting for this uncharacteristically silly, dusted room.

“I--” You cut yourself off with a blood-spitting cough, the sensation of needles coming up and out of your throat.

“Oh rats… look at you, covered in dust and all tear-stricken; It was only twelve hours,” He brushed the wet spot on your dusty cheek. “Sweet doll… that’s all it takes to drive you insane?”

He laughed a short snort, reeking of dried blood and dirt. The diamond-patterned gloves usually adorning his bone-thin fingers were already gone, cold and clean hands pulling your bound wrists forward out of the chair. He drug you up far enough to get you out of the recliner. Legs weak and practically immobile, you did your best to keep your distance; but he was determined to make you lean on him, taking your hands to inspect.

“Bruises don’t look too bad on you…” He mumbled, watching the dark ring that had formed below your palms. “But it's not right, I need to take better care of you, don’t I?”

He asked, as if your say meant anything. But you knew this; you were getting a hold of the game now.

Nodding your head, you leaned just a tad against his damp shoulder for support, nearly ready to fall to the ground. From the sound of the metal roof, it had been raining only an hour earlier. You prayed it was rain drops staining into your sleeve.

“I don’t feel good..” You mumbled, voice cracking under pressure.

“Of course you don’t. That was the whole point of this little time out session, dollheart; but I bet you want to come out, to talk a little bit now, don’t you?”

He was always too comfortable, acting as if you were more than just an angry hostage. You were his darling, his pet, his everything. It made you sick, listening to the way he talked at you-- feeling like you were watching yourself from outside your body, as if these pet names were for somebody else.

You forgot the whole purpose of this endeavor was to get you to cooperate; when you didn’t respond immediately, you could feel him tense up.

Even a nod wasn’t enough, like you expected. What did he want, again? For you to say his name, to listen and to speak? All this time in here, and you barely reflected on the purpose of your discipline.

He gave you another opportunity, a short kindness, placing his ridden jacket over your shoulders.

“Are you hungry? Ready to come out and eat without problems?”

You swallowed the little saliva you could muster.

“Please, yes...Quin.” You were so quiet, a small part of you doing it on purpose, shame in saying your kidnapper’s name so casually like old pals. You kept that anger at the back of your mind, ignoring how speaking rubbed your throat into a deeper raw.

He led you through the thick steel door away from your prison, rubbing at the back of your neck in an attempt to soothe the state your throat was left in. You hobbled your way out, gaining some strength back in your jello-ified legs.

“What do you want to eat, chicken or beef?”

You almost threw up in your mouth remembering the frozen pasta options you had consumed for the past two months. Would you ever get to taste something besides starch and fake meat again?

“...Chicken. Please.” You added, forgetting you were on thin ice. One wrong move and another needle-full of mystery fluid was stuck into your thigh and you went eye-to-eye with Raggedy Ann again.

You let the apathetic creature grab hold of your sweating fingers, hand-in-hand as the labored breathing behind his stained, venetian-like mask became unbearable to listen to. It was different from the one you had seen him in the night you were dragged here; most of the time he wore something new, maybe depending on his mood or something as superficial as his outfit, you weren't sure yet. It made you more afraid, only being able to see shadowed green eyes beneath a painted porcelain, often accented with red and gold to accompany the splatters of gore that make way to his face.

Quin watched you walk barefooted and soulless, taking in the familiar sights of the small inhabitable area of his “home.” What wasn’t inhabited by you most of the time, was reserved for Quin’s… activities. Despite thinking about what he must’ve done today, you were ravenous.

He wasn’t wearing the usual get-up today-- the circus-like, ridiculous clown-inspired rags he dared to do most of his bidding in. It was… oddly casual, muted colors with dark layers to shield him from the cold. The mask looked out of place, wisps of fiery red hair covering his forehead and ears. The color was fresh, not fading into blonde like the last time you saw him a mere half-day ago.

Quin pushed your shoulders down, placing you in the wooden chair that had already been pulled out; the way it was left after you had been drug out of it.

“Sit. How tired are you?”

He pulls out a small keychain flashlight from his pants pocket.

“Tired.” You respond, huddling into yourself as the cold from the floor crept in. It was freezing outside, late November proving to be no joke compared to the windy October day you last saw the sun.

Quin gave you a dead stare, shinning the light into your eyes.

“Very funny. Do you feel like passing out at all? Your eyes are bloodshot.” He focused on each eye, temporarily blinding you before turning the flashlight off to put it back in his pocket. “Warm,” He mumbled, smoothing a finger from your chin to your throat. “A little too warm. Maybe got a fever being in that old room.”

“I’m just exhausted, I didn’t sleep… at all.” You didn’t have the energy to be angry, but the resentment and hate burrowing into you was making you more disgusted with him by the minute. Who was he to act worried and interested, after throwing you into a demented toy room for hours? “I couldn’t, being in that godforsaken room.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on the dolls, doll. I thought they’d keep you company.”

Your captor stood up, running his frozen hands along your jaw, smoothening your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Keep me company?” You remembered the firetruck, wanting to scream and cry until your body shook again. “I.. I don’t think I was alone, but there was something more than dolls in there. It moved, things were moved…” Tears rushed to your eyes, willing to fall faster after crying so recently. “ I can’t go back in there.”

You were firm in your words, looking up at him. You wouldn’t go back in there, you’d give yourself a heart attack before he managed to kill you.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.” Quin bent back down to lay a hand on the wooden chair frame behind you, scanning your eyes.

You tried to lean back, not too obvious yet not allowing him to get any closer. You could feel the exhale of air through the mask’s nose hitting your forehead.

“I’d rather you kill me than put me back in there.” His chest was warm, from where you put a shaky hand to stop him. You didn’t have the courage to be firm, to do more than rest your palm there, as if you were feeling his heartbeat. It was gentle, a rhythmic beat that reminded you he was just as human as you were. A monster of a human.

“Really? You’re that scared, baby?” Quin smoothed the hair above your ear, resting his hand on your scalp. “Even after everything I made you see, more that you’re gonna see? You’re scared of some collectibles?”

You looked away, being the first to lose the staring contest he put in order.

“It’s different.” You murmured through hoarseness, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach after hearing another sappy pet name.

“Fine. Next time I’ll just make you bleed our next guest dry. Its about time you learned the family trade.”

He placed a kiss to your cheek through the mask, doing little to acknowledge the wince you gave when he moved forward so quickly. By now, maybe you should believe him when he says he’s not killing you quite yet... But after witnessing so many of his activities, you can’t help but imagine yourself in his victims’ place, waiting for a knife to drag itself across your stomach.

The thought made bile rise in your throat. You had so little to vomit away, and yet you still felt the desire to rid last night's meal. You couldn’t do it. The dolls were better. You couldn’t hurt someone like that. It was now, that you realized how different watching was compared to actually doing it. You couldn’t stomach watching him work with his gadgets and coroner tools, how could you comprehend actually doing anything with them?

The microwave began to churn alive after Quin’s button pressing, refrigerator door swinging to a close as the microwaves’ hum filled the damp, grainy room. Peeling wallpaper reminded you of an aging housewife, brown stains on the floor being a more comforting vision than looking up at your captor.

Even if you kept your eyes down, you had to contribute-- to be more than a lifeless doll here, lest you get thrown back in again to that pit of clown memorabilia.

“What did you do, while I was here?”

Your voice cracks dryly, attempting to clean the dirt under your nails as you stare down.

“Do you really want to know?” You could hear the smile through his words. “you've got such a weak stomach,” He waited for you to protest, continuing when you sat silently. “It wasn’t anything you would deem oh so “horrific,” really. Just some shopping at the hardware store, odds and ends.”

“Oh.” Is all you could muster. You continued to pick at your nails until the ending beep of the microwave resounded. Quin opened its door, grabbing the tips of the cardboard meal plate as it steamed. The smell of chicken and pasta filled the small, round dining room.

Your stomach churned, hungry and yet sick at the thought of eating another mushy, microwaved meal of little to no nutritional value.

“...Thanks, Quin.” You were mildly sarcastic, a habit you had forgotten to shove down in fear of punishment-- but you tried to shoot him a crooked, half-smile to cover it up.

“Nothing but the best for you, doll.” The clown pulled out an unmatching foldable chair with a lengthy screech, a plastic fork with muted ends already sitting in front of him at the table. He was so lean, uncharacteristically gangly at the hips and forearms, but wide in his shoulders and thighs. It tooke everything in you to not scratch at the floor boards to get out, to run away from a man so close that took pleasure in hurting people just like you.

You were going to comment on the fork, again still not understanding how a plastic utensil could cause enough damage to need to be shaved down, but Quin did something that struck you as even more unsettling.

“I think, maybe we should go back a few steps. It would do us some good, rebuild our trust.” He stirs around the mixture in the cardboard frozen meal box. Quin looks toward you while he covers the bits of broccoli and chicken in alfredo sauce. “ If I can trust you again to be good to me, there’d be no reason to return to the toy room you’re so afraid of.”

You bit your tongue, trying to choose your words wisely. He overstepped, but you shouldn’t be trying to stomp on his toes either-- save future you some punishment, you told yourself.

“Thats not necessary, I’ve… you know I just need some time to adjust, I’m kept here all day and--”

Quin suddenly patted at his lap in interruption, opening his legs and turning himself to face you.

“Come sit.”

You look at him incredilously, trying to garner a reaction out of that stoic, masked face.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Just sit, you’re hungry, aren’t you.”

Gritting your teeth, you shoved down an insult, wanting to throw fast words on how the hell he knew what you wanted, who he thought he was to tell you what to do!

You sit there in defiance, utter disbelief and anger at how he watched you quietly, patiently stirring the pasta absentmindedly, the other tapping his leg twice again-- like he was calling a dog.

He puts both hands on his knees and looks as if he’s about to get up. His bottom nearly leaves the chair before you race out of yours, taking an uncomfortably close step to prevent him from moving any further. It would do no help in a fight, but you could at least make it as uncomfortable for him to try and hurt you if he wanted. You knew better now that when you were walking on cracking ice, to work faster than he did-- he was unlikely to carry out his undesired punishment that way.

Quin relaxes, putting his back against the fold-up chair with a squeak. His palms still grasp his knees looking up at you, an expectation in his body language.

“Well?”

You turn to the side, lining up with his thigh in preparation to sit. The idea of sucker punching his head is mouth-wateringly appealing. You almost consider it, despite the implications of what will come after; yet, the masked murderer is quicker than you, cutting off your plotting thoughts.

Cold hands grab at your hips, lurching you down and back against his chest, the full weight of your butt on his thigh. Immediately you hold your weight back up, hovering above his leg as you fear the oddly heated sensation of being against someone, close to another living being. It's been a long time since you felt skin on skin contact.

“Sit down, you're insulting me,” Quin complained with an effort of wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back. “Acting as if I'm the plague. Just eat.”

You'd try and pull up again but his arm would not relent. It felt uncomfortably close with his leg shifting under you, the muffled sound of his breathing and speech under the puckered mask.

He didn't seem uncomfortable with your weight on his lap-- weirdly… more relaxed, oddly calm. Shoulders slumped, legs open in the usual masculine spreading fashion-- if you didn't know better, you'd say he was enjoying this.

Staring down at the steaming pasta, you swallow down your dissipating apetite. Quin picked up the small fork, looking away from you. Every millisecond that he took his gaze away, you fought back the urge to escape. He twisted thin noodles around the fork, stabbing a piece of broccoli along the way.

Letting go of you for just a moment Quin used his free hand to lift up the Venetian mask from his chin, pushing it just barely above his lips. He bent down gently to blow on the fork, flurries of steam pushing away from the utensil. You watched, mildly weirded out at his softness, feeling the heat of the meal container radiate toward you.

Quin, finished with his motherly theatrics, pushed the fork towards your mouth. You instinctively pulled your head back in a flinch.

It looked as if he was about to say something, jaw clenched in a grating fashion.

“...Thank you.” This sugarsweet, docile behavior you had to pretend to play was even harder than you were hoping.

You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to take the fork as you opened your mouth. But Quin didn’t let it go, allowing your fingers to rest on his as you tried to take it. The pasta was gently placed against your tongue, filling your mouth as you bit down.

The killer slowly, --too slowly you might add-- removed the fork from your lips. He was watching, his eyes and gentle, plum lips nearer than they ever had been before. You had never seen him up so close, only mere inches away as you cautiously chewed.

A thought ran across your mind, wondering if the food had been tampered with-- but at this point, did it matter? It likely wouldn’t be the first time, or the last.

Quin repeated the process, softly blowing on the food before feeding you with a tenderness that wasn’t mean for a captor and his captive.

You appreciated the silence, though; no bitingly silly remarks or sadistic smiles, just a softly domestic scene with the humming of the yellowed refridgerator.

The wrongness of having someone watch you eat, waiting till you’ve swallowed, making sure you’ve taken every bit off of the fork-- it was like being watched by a crowd, not showing immediate judgement and yet just as uncomfortable.

“You’ve got a little,” Quin hesitated, putting the fork back down in the frozen meal plate. His nimble hand came to hold under your chin, pulling your face closer to his. You could feel his breath now tickling your nose as he parted his lips in concentration. A wintry thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, taking away stray sauce that hadn’t made it to your mouth.

“There; what a mess you make. Looks like you're trying to tease me, acting all helpless.”

You were ready to react, but a splotch of something dark resting on the clown’s open chest caught your eye. You thought it was a birthmark at first, one you had never noticed before-- but upon closer inspection, you saw it was uneven dots of blood, dried and smudged.

Your tongue went dry, breath getting caught in your throat as you recalled his words earlier. Was up to nothing, huh?

…How many people have died since you’ve been stuck alone in that room?

The fear of your impending death was rising in your throat in the form of acid, no longer hungry for anything-- merely sick and distraught. What was he saving for you, what were you going to become-- he may be spouting nonsensical “I love you” ‘s and such, but how could you believe it when so many have been killed in your stead?

Quin ignored the creased lines of horror on your face, the silence of your twitching frown as you kept your gaze on his soiled neck.

“Alright, now open wide.” Quin brushes your cheek with one hand, the other holding another forkful of pasta and chicken.

Your lips shake, finding it hard to keep your mouth anything but clamped shut as you remember the foul sights, the smells of the rest of this warehouse-- how could you be so stupid, thinking maybe you’d find one way to get this all to stop, a daydream of freedom from this dank hellhole.

You’d better start getting used to saying ‘I love you.’

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sister-lucifer · 7 months ago

Text

Genre: Smut

Summary: Tim is dazed and confused after wandering through these cursed woods for who knows how long, when he encounters a mysterious figure on the dark waters of the lake.

Content/Warnings: Male reader, frottage, oral sex, the story is from Tim’s POV, the siren is referred to with it/its pronouns, some mystery/horror/unsettling elements, the siren has a prehensile penis, masturbation, attempted/near drowning, underwater ejaculation, it’s left up to interpretation whether or not this actually happened or was just a hallucination, sort of hypnosis I guess? Not really sure what to call it but use of siren song powers

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out.

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors.

Tim isn’t sure how long he’s been walking. It feels like the night has gone on forever, his boots caked in mud from hours of wandering without any vestige of an intended destination. He isn’t sure how long he’s been in these god forsaken woods at all. His frustration and anger have long since melted away to exhaustion, the endless trees silently mocking him as they watch him struggle to pull himself towards a freedom he cannot see. This entire plane of existence is a cruel, horridly sentient monster of phantasmagorical insanity built to break the minds of any who enter, and he can feel the cracks starting to grow throughout his tortured psyche like a starving parasite threatening to encompass him fully.

It feels like his body is rotting.

Like the muscle is sloughing off the bone with every move he makes, joints aching and falling apart as he forces himself to keep going. The night air is thick with the heat and humidity of the summer, threatening to suffocate him with every inhale. Sweat clings to his clothes and his body like a heavy blanket that only serves to weigh him down even more.

He’s not sure how much he has left in him.

Everything looks the same, nothing but trees in all directions for impossible distances. He hasn’t even seen another animal, no sign of life beyond the green. He’s starting to lose his vision, sight blurring and distorting in the kaleidoscope of leaves that the moonlight filters through.

Finally the burn in his legs forces him to come to a stop. His chest is heaving when he falls to his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. He doesn’t have time to stop.

He’s still for only a second before the raging swill of his thoughts becomes far too loud for his comfort. They scream at him for his foolishness, for his stupidity in getting himself lost this badly, in walking right into the waiting maw of the stalking creature he’s been running from like a lobotomized rabbit to the wolf. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

The ringing in his ears gradually subsides as his breathing levels out. He pushes down his emotions in favor of keeping himself calm; panic will only doom him further. He has to stay in his right mind if he ever wants to get out of here.

Then, a sound pierces through his clouded mind like the sharpened point of a needle. A sound, finally, other than the noise of his boots on the grass and his heavy breathing.

Water.

The sound of water lapping at the shore.

He’s managed to wander his way to the lake.

He stands so quickly he nearly falls over, looking around as he discerns where the sound is coming from. He turns to his left, then to his right, ultimately deciding on the former. His walk quickly turns into a frantic sprint.

The noise gets louder, calling to him that he’s chosen the right direction. He runs faster. The green is starting to thin, he can see something getting closer, he is so damn close—

It takes everything in him not to collapse under the weight of his insurmountable relief when he emerges from the trees to be greeted with the reflection of the moon on the water.

He rushes to the shore, nearly tripping and tumbling down the bank as he makes a frantic dash for the lake. He stops at the edge, kneeling and pushing his hands beneath the surface, gasping softly when the cool water runs over his hands.

It’s real.

He’s not imagining this, it’s real.

A gravely but triumphant laugh bubbles up from his throat as he basks in his victory. Finally, finally he’s freed himself from the prison of trees, even if he hasn’t found his way back home. He cups the water in his hands and takes a drink, not caring to even consider how dirty the lake might be; that doesn’t matter nearly as much as the cool relief that washes over his dry throat. He splashes a bit of water on his face for good measure, soaking the front of his jacket and granting him some reprieve from the hot, muggy night air.

For a brief moment he debates taking a swim, but quickly shoots the idea down. The lake is vast and dark, he doesn’t trust it enough to let it engulf him entirely. Not to mention the idea of swimming with such a sore and exhausted body isn’t very appealing.

He looks up and around, thinking that surely there must be some way to cool off without taking the plunge. His eyes land on a wooden dock some ways away, not too far of a walk.

…That’ll work.

He makes his way over to the dock, stepping onto it cautiously to test its strength. It creaks a bit, but gives no real protest as he walks down its length, stopping to sit down at the end. He unlaces his boots and sets them at his side before stowing his socks away inside them. He rolls up the legs of his jeans before allowing his feet to dangle over the side, the water reaching up to soothe his sore calves. He lets his head fall back when he sighs with relief, finally allowing himself to relax. He moves to lay back on the dock, folding his hands over his stomach and taking a deep breath.

Finally, a fucking break.

No, it doesn’t solve all his problems—he’s still stuck here, after all—but Goddamn is it nice to finally be able to breathe.

For just a moment, everything is peaceful. Tim even lets himself forget the hell he’s trapped in at present, focusing instead on the feeling of the water gently cooling his legs. It’s nostalgic, almost—reminds him of when he used to sneak out to the pond behind his house to drink with his high school friends. It’s a fleeting comfort, but an appreciated one nonetheless.

He lays still there until the frantic thudding of his heart slowly reduces itself to a steady beating, until the ringing in his ears quiets fully and he breathe without a struggle. He feels much lighter now that there’s not so much strain on his muscles and joints. He even lets himself close his eyes, just for a moment, the stars shining on the backs of his lids before fading into the dark.

He debates going to sleep right here. It’s not a good idea, no, but it’s a tempting one, and much more appealing than sleeping in the dirt. He’s too open here, though, too exposed; he couldn’t hide in a timely manner if the need were the arise. No, no sleep yet, no matter how badly he needs it. Just rest.

Just enough rest for him to keep going.

That’s all he can safely grant himself at the moment.

And for now, that’s okay.

Just this brief peace is enough after the ordeal he’s been put through.

He focuses in on his breathing, counting his breaths as he inhales and exhales slowly, keeping the rhythm steady as he takes in the gentle quiet of the surrounding world that, for once, has gone still, relieving him of the heavy burden of survival…

…Only for the sudden sound of something splashing into the lake to jolt him out of his calm.

His eyes shoot open and he sits up so quick he gets a bit lightheaded. He looks around, frantically trying to find the source of the sound and preparing to grab his boots and make a run for it. He stops when he catches sight of…something that has settled on top of a rock in the middle of the lake.

He pauses, squinting through the fog that has now settled over the water.

Was the fog always there?

Could it have moved in that fast?

Damn, how long has he even been here?

He pushes the questions away for now, too focused on trying to discern what the hell he’s looking at.

Then, as if it can feel his eyes, the figure move. Tim can’t see it very well, but he too can feel it staring back just before it dives into the water.

“…What in the fuck?” he mumbles, unable to conjure any other response.

What the hell was that thing?

Couldn’t have been a fish, but it didn’t look like any waterfowl or turtle he’d seen. A gator, maybe? No, unlikely—too fast and too damn tall to be a gator.

He looks down at his feet, his legs still submerged in the water.

He really should pull them back out. No telling what that thing was.

He should leave all together, in all honesty, he needs to keep moving…

…So why won’t he?

He swallows hard, eyes cast down at his still legs. He kicks them in the water a bit, but can’t bring himself to pull them back out. Surely by now he should have enough willpower to pull himself away from this…

He winces a bit as the ringing in his ears suddenly returns with an acute fervor.

No, wait…not ringing. Some other high pitched noise, something more melodic that starts to melt into the ambience.

…Music?

No, it can’t be, but he isn’t able to come up with any other name for it, especially with the fog that’s suddenly thickening in his mind, clouding his thoughts like the mist on the water clouds his vision. He rubs his eyes and looks out over the water again. The figure, that creature is gone, and the rock it was perching on is rapidly fading away into the fog.

This is bad. He has to get out of here, right now, before something terrible—

He gasps, nearly jumping out of his skin as something splashes in the water a short distance to his left. He looks over quickly, but all he sees is the ripples on the surface left behind by something diving down into the lake.

There’s no doubt about it now.

Something is in the lake, and it’s getting closer.

He tries to make his body move, to get up out of the water and onto the dock, but he’s frozen. The more he tries, the more his mind screams at him to do something, the louder the music gets. echoing in his brain and drowning out any voice of reason. The sound is clearer now, a high pitched vocalization carrying a tune that feels so familiar, like something out of his childhood dripping with a viscous nostalgia that clogs his throat and sticks to the back of his teeth.

Something splashes again, but with the operatic voice forcing its way into his mind he can’t discern which direction it was. All he knows is it was closer.

Tim scans the water frantically, but the fog has covered the everything. He can hardly see ten feet in front of him. It feels like the cloudy mist is closing in on him with a purpose, with intent, like this was planned.

His heart nearly stops when he looks down at his feet, only to see a glowing pair of eyes looking back at him from just beneath the water.

He flinches, but can’t bring himself to pull back. He’s frozen, like something is holding him in place and forcing him to keep eye contact with this creature. The music is the only thing he can hear. The noise of the crickets and the water and the wind are completely gone, completely overtake by the singing.

Tim watches, completely mesmerized as the creature slowly rises, breaching the water’s surface with wildly unnatural grace. Tim’s eyes widen in shock and awe as more and more of the creature’s form is revealed, its body revealed to him inch by inch, allowing him to take it in.

The creatures skin is an unsettling greenish-grey, with pulsating gills that gasp softly on the sides of its torso and neck. Its impossibly long hair, tangled with leafy plants, creates a curtain around its face that hides its visage in shadows and cascades down its shoulders and into the water, as if it goes on forever. Tim’s eyes trail downward towards where the legs should be, but he finds none. Instead, the creatures body fades into iridescent scales that reflect the moonlight in a kaleidoscope of colors that swirl in his brown eyes. Anything beyond the top half is hidden by the dark water, but he can imagine what those scales become below the surface.

He should be running.

He should’ve been far, far away by now.

He’s not as afraid as he should be.

Why isn’t he afraid?

He doesn’t have time consider the question before the echo of the singing starts to quiet down. It doesn’t go away, no, but it’s morphing into something else…

Tim watches as the creature swims closer, webbed hands reaching out to grasp his thighs with an unexpected gentleness. He sucks in a breath at the creature’s cold touch, the water on its palms soaking through his rolled up jeans. He realizes now that it’s closer that it’s humming, the soft sound buzzing in its throat with the same tune as the echo of the singing before it.

The humming is far more soothing than it has any right to be. Tim should be fighting this thing off, pushing it away as it leans in to hum right into his ear, its scent of lake water and fresh plants filling his nose, but he can’t. He just can’t.

The creature’s skin is cool and soft against his own, wetting his cheek with the water clinging to its hair and face. Its chest brushes his for a moment, and he shudders, though not with disgust. His mind is swimming, completely melted into a useless sludge that refuses to form a thought. He knows he shouldbe terrified right now, he should be running for his life, but it’s getting harder and harder to articulate why.

He breaths deeply, inhaling the creature’s earthy scent as its ghostly voice seeps into the deepest recesses of his brain.

Oh, God…

That feels good.

He can feel the creature, the siren slowly stripping him of his defenses, peeling the armor off of his carefully guarded psyche piece by piece, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He’s not sure he wants to stop it. The sensation of his will being broken down, chipped away at by a skilled hand with a chisel of forged steel that leaves no room for argument; it’s almost comforting.

Tim has spent so long fighting…

…Why shouldn’t he just give in this once?

The thought rattles around his skull and echoes in such a way that he’s aware it wasn’t entirely his idea, but he doesn’t care. It’s a beautiful epiphany.

His vision is starting to blur. Most of his senses, in fact, are dulling at what should be an alarming rate. The only thing left in tact, maybe even amplified, is his ability to feel.

The siren’s touch is intoxicating.

He’s starting to lose himself.

Tim shudders as something warm and wet slides over his neck, moving in a manner that is far too articulated. The siren pulls back, licking its lips, and for a moment Tim thinks he can see it mouth the word ‘delicious.’

The siren leans in again, this time for a slow kiss on the lips. Tim is stunned at the gesture, but can’t stop himself from kissing back. It’s almost a subconscious action, a base instinct activated by the siren song buzzing in his head.

The kiss is far from brief, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough to satisfy Tim. He leans forward to try and follow the siren as it pulls away, but it pushes him back with a gentle hand and a cheeky grin. It playfully wags a finger, silently scolding him with only a look from those piercing eyes.

The siren starts to move lower, and for a moment Tim is afraid it’s about to dive back into the lake, never to be seen again, but instead it stops once it’s at eye level with his groin. Tim sucks in a breath, which only makes the siren’s grin grow wider. Tim catches a split second glance of the shiny teeth that are kept behind its upturned lips.

The siren’s webbed hands slide inward from where they rest on Tim’s thighs, lazily meandering to the buckle of his belt. The siren’s humming doesn’t cease for even a moment as its nimble fingers slip his belt from the buckle and then from the loops of his jeans with an unnatural grace. It sets the belt to the side on the dock, right next to his boots, making it clear that Tim won’t be needing it anymore.

Tim’s breath hitches when the siren pulls his zipper down, moving slowly but with intent. It’s teasing him, he realizes in a fleeting moment of clarity, making him wait for whatever it is it knows he wants. His eyes trail down as the siren tugs his jeans down just a bit, enough to expose his half hard cock as it pushes against his boxers. He didn’t even realized how turned on he was.

Tim bites his lip as the siren’s agile tongue unfurls from its mouth to lick over the bulge in his boxers. He shivers, barely biting back a moan. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come; there’s only a brief stammer before his lips close again, the eyes of the siren drawing him into silent submission. It hasn’t looked away from his face this entire time, refusing to release his gaze. It holds eye contact even as it leans in again, this time latching onto Tim’s hardening bulge with its lips and suckling it through the fabric of his boxers.

This time Tim can’t stop the noise that falls from his mouth, a choked sound of pleasure that would surely be humiliating if he had any sense left. Right now all he can think about is how badly he wants more.

The siren’s hands move again, upwards this time, towards the waistband of his boxers. It hooks its claws beneath the fabric and pulls downward slowly, just enough to release Tim’s now throbbing, needy erection from its confines. He sighs with relief at the feeling. He didn’t realize until now how badly he needed that.

The siren wastes no time wrapping its tongue around Tim’s length, and this time there’s no stopping the shuddering moan that crawls up his throat. The siren’s tongue is impossibly long, moving with complete control as though it were another limb; it leaves no spot of Tim’s cock untouched, coating every bump and vein with the siren’s cool, thick saliva. Tim’s thighs tremble as he watches the creature pleasure him shamelessly, its tongue coiling around his twitching member and sliding up and down the entirety of his length with intent.

The siren has stopped humming, unable to do so with its mouth occupied, but its song still echoes in the trees around them, keeping Tim docile and needy.

Hesitantly he reaches up, his hand shaking like a leaf in the wind as he moves it towards the siren. For just a moment a look of intrigue flashes in the creature’s eyes, but it quickly morphs into smug satisfaction as Tim’s fingers find themselves nestled into the siren’s hair.

The siren’s tongue retracts suddenly. Tim’s eyes widen as a question begins to form in his mind as to why, but it’s promptly stamped out when the siren wraps its lips around his cock and sinks its mouth down on him without hesitation. Tim nearly screams, crying out in shock and pleasure before choking on his own voice. The gills on the siren’s neck flex and breathe as his cock is pushed down its slick, invitingly warm throat. The cavity welcomes him happily, as though it was molded to fit his cock perfectly.

Tim’s fingers twitch as his grip tightens on the siren’s hair, silently begging for more. The creature complies, running its tongue up and down his length without so much as coming up for air. It uses every part its mouth and throat to stimulate his length with a sharp focus.

One of the siren’s hands slides off of its resting place on Tim’s thigh. It trails down his leg before leaving his body completely, dipping down into the water. Tim follows it with his eyes curiously, watching as the siren reaches down to lightly rub at a spot on the front of its tail. Tim quirks a brow, but quickly realizes what’s happening as the scales part to reveal a fleshy slit, a sheath from which what Tim can only assume is some kind of inhuman cock slides out. It’s visibly slick, almost slimy, and moves much like the siren’s tongue. He can feel the creature let out a soft noise around his cock as it wraps its hand around its length. It’s pleasuring itself, Tim thinks, pleasuring itself to him.

The siren’s free hand grasps onto his jacket for balance, keeping it upright as it floats in the water. It’s found a steady rhythm in the way it bobs its head up and down on Tim’s length, slowly pulling back and pushing forward just as the water laps at the shore in a lazy but constant manner.

Tim’s head falls back as a sudden wave of pleasure washes over him, making his entire body shiver with chills. He wouldn’t be able to take much more of this.

As if sensing his impending release, the siren’s pace increases. It doesn’t become vigorous or messy, only faster, swifter and even more calculated. The siren seems hyper aware of every move it makes, every muscle it flexes in its mouth and throat to make sure Tim never feels less than the utmost sense of bliss.

Tim can’t hold back his voice anymore. The soft mewls and desperate moans spill from his lips like a waterfall of debauchery that only seems to fuel the siren’s passion. Tim can’t see it with his head thrown back, but he can hear the splashing of the water getting louder and faster as the siren pumps its own cock with more fervor.

Tim’s back arches, pushing his cock into the siren’s mouth. The creature takes him so deeply its nose brushes his stomach, but it makes it seem so effortless. It knows exactly what it’s doing, and it’s working far too well. Tim doesn’t have much longer.

“I’m…I-I’m about to—“ he stammers, struggling to get the words out or even put together a coherent sentence.

The warning is a trigger for the siren. It pauses suddenly, processing the words for only a moment before it pulls off of Tim’s cock so quickly it almost hurts. Tim jumps and gasps, but doesn’t have even a split second to react before the siren grabs onto his shoulders and pulls him down into the water with it.

He thrashes in the creature’s hold, but the siren’s tail wraps around his ankles and squeezes tightly. He tries to cry out, but his efforts are punished with a mouthful of lake water that firmly halts any attempt at screaming. The lake around them is nothing more but a dark, merciless void of water without any sign of life. The only light is the dim shine of the moon that pierces the surface of the water and the glowing eyes of the siren.

Tim pushes against the creature’s hold, but it doesn’t budge. It leans in for another kiss, a rougher one that Tim fights this time, but not for long.

It’s an odd sensation, the feeling of air being forcefully pumped into his lungs from the siren’s mouth, but it lets him breathe. He can’t complain about that.

In the next instant the siren’s cock has wrapped around Tim’s, picking up right where it had left off on the dock. Little time was lost, and before Tim knows it he’s already nearing dangerously close to his release once more. He doesn’t dare pull aware from the siren’s lips to warn it, though. Surely it knows.

Just as he’d figured the siren’s length is slimy, almost tentacle like, sticking to Tim’s own cock as it writhes in coils around it. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, making him whimper into the kiss with a need so great it’s overwhelming. The siren isn’t immune to the pleasure either; its gills and scales ripple with its impending climax.

The siren wraps its arms around Tim, gripping at his hair and the back of his jacket as it holds him in place. It’s so desperate to keep him against it.

Tim cries out into the kiss one last time before his body tenses, his climax hitting him like a truck as his cock twitches and spurts into the water. The siren lets out an odd noise, almost like a dolphin’s chitter before it follows suit, its length pulsing around Tim’s before releasing as well, the iridescent liquid hovering in the water before fading away into the darkness below them.

The siren’s cock quickly retracts, unwrapping from Tim’s softening length and pulling back into its sheath. It’s as if it were never there, the parted scales moving back to hide the slit once again.

The siren slowly pulls away, looking down at Tim with an odd expression. It’s not quite a smile, but it carries a sense of self satisfaction and mischief.

Tim expects to be let go, even kicking his legs a bit to loosen the grip the siren’s tail has on them, but the hold only tightens. Tim kicks again, trying to pull away, but this only earns him more restraint yet again. The siren pulls him into a deadly hug, slotting his body against its own and wrapping itself around Tim.

Suddenly its touch is no longer soft and welcoming. Its claws dig onto Tim’s back and shoulders through his jacket, which only serves to amplify his panic. The siren squeezes him, forcing the gifted air out of his lungs. He can only watch it escape to the surface as bubbles, unable to retrieve it.

His thrashing increases tenfold, but he’s tiring fast. The lack of air combined with his exhaustion and now the siren’s humming in his ear once again is disorienting him. He needs to fight, but his body is rapidly losing the will to do so. He’s only a man, and a man has limits.

He resists the urge to gasp as water starts to leak into his mouth. He’s losing strength by the second, not only from his body straining but also from the siren’s song draining his energy. His panic turns to pure terror as the black spots start to fill his vision.

The siren won’t let go.

He can’t fight anymore.

This was a trap.

This was all a trap.

He’s going to die here.

No, no, no—

The water is filling his lungs rapidly now as his fear overrides his rationality. He’s screaming as much as he can beneath the surface of the lake, using the last of his strength to fight, but he knows it’s pointless. It’s only bringing more water in. His vision is darkening fast, and soon the little sliver of moonlight he had is gone. All he can do is listen to the sound of the siren’s humming, but then that is starting to fade out.

No, no, no, no!

Please, God, no…

But God doesn’t come to help, and the siren’s song is barely audible as Tim’s body stills and goes limp.

This is it.

He’s sinking into something dark, now, something beyond his consciousness. It’s an indescribable feeling, but an absolute one, one that speaks of eternity and a horrible permanency.

For a moment he’s aware of his own fate, his own death…

…And then he’s coughing up water onto the sand, the bright morning sun burning his eyes.

He turns over into his side, getting onto his hands and knees as he forcefully hacks up the lake water in his lungs.

The fresh air is a godsend, quickly pushing the water out and taking its place. Tim can finally take a deep breath without drowning.

He’s back on dry land, and alive…

…but how?

He’s still dizzy, he doesn’t dare stand up yet, but he does look around in confusion. The sun has finally risen, that much is obvious; it’s warm and bright on his face, almost jarringly so. He can even hear birds chirping in the trees above him. The woods have suddenly come to life, but what feels like only an hour ago it was completely devoid of anything living.

Did all of that…really happen?

He has no idea.

He looks down at himself and realizes he’s still missing his shoes, socks, and belt. His jeans are still rolled up to his knees, and his clothes and hair are completely soaked, as evidenced by the water that drips down his forehead, legs and hands. The zipper of his pants is still down, exposing the black fabric of his boxers.

His missing clothes are nowhere to be found next to him on the shore.

Slowly his eyes trail down the lake to the dock. He squints as he looks closely, searching for the proof that that thing was real…

…And there they are. His boots, socks still rolled up inside, and his belt, sitting at the edge of the dock.

Right where he’d left them.

He stumbles to his bare feet, trudging down to the dock to retrieve his things. His boots and socks are shockingly dry, but that’s certainly not a bad thing. It’s a small comfort that he more than deserves.

He slips them back on, they looks down at his belt. For some reason, he hesitates to pick it up. He makes himself lean down to grab it, though, and takes a moment to inspect the leather in his hands.

It’s untouched. No sign of damage or wear and tear at all.

He sighs as he zips his jeans back up and pulls the belt through the loops, fastening it back in place around his waist.

He’s going to chock this up to this goddamned forest screwing with him. He has to if he wants to keep his mind from breaking in two. It’s the safest, least insane explanation he can give to himself. It’s the only thing he’s prepared to hear.

The ache in his legs returns as a dull thrum as he resigns himself to continuing his journey. It’s painful to leave behind the solace of the lake, to walk away from the soft sound of the water, but with the day’s light he’ll surely be able to find his way out of here.

He takes in a deep breath, internally psyching himself up before he dives back into the endless trees.

Only, this time, they don’t seem all that endless.

Almost instantly the sound of grass beneath Tim’s boots turns into the crunching of a rocky path. He looks down in confusion, eyes landing on beige, rocky dirt that definitely isn’t a natural formation.

The trail.

He’s found his way back to the trail.

His eyes widen as he follows the path into the trees as far as his eyes can see.

Finally, his endless effort is being rewarded.

He eagerly starts onto the trail, resisting the urge to run until he collapses. He has time, he reminds himself. The trail is a loop; he’ll get back home sooner or later.

Finally, he’s free from the terror of these woods. Whatever entity that was keeping him trapped has released him, and he’s not going to question it.

When he gets home he’ll flop down onto his bed, not even considering changing out of his filthy clothes before he does so. He’ll stare up at the ceiling with teary eyes as he thinks about how happy he is to be back home, back where it’s safe and comfortable.

Inevitably his thoughts will wander back to the creature he encountered, or perhaps imagined; it’s not exactly something one easily forgets, after all.

But for now, he’s going home.

And that’s all that matters.

mdni & reblog banners by cafekitsune

#marble hornets #masky #tim wright #masky x reader #tim wright x reader #male reader #siren reader #masky smut #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets smut #horror #slenderverse #monster reader #slenderman #the operator #tim masky

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ghcstao3 · 8 months ago

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another mermay post 🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️ hehehehehe

short part two of siren!ghost x sailor!soap

In the darkness of the cave, with nothing but the bioluminescent something speckling the damp walls to illuminate the space, Soap isn’t sure how much time has passed since Ghost’s departure.

All Soap knows is that he’s cold, wet, and hungry, and has no idea how long he’s been left in this cave—and if there’s any way out.

He doesn’t venture far, not with what little visibility he has, but he feels along the slimy, algae-coated walls for any hidden crevice, any opening, any alcove. When he’s unsuccessful in that regard, a dares to inch toward the water, peering into its dark, murky depths, and wondering just how deep it goes. How deep underwater he is, in this little pocket of air that will most certainly run out.

And if it’s so deep that he couldn’t make it back up to the surface on his own.

Soap is curled up against one side of the cave when Ghost reappears, hauling fish, oysters, and tattered, sodden clothing of which Soap could very well guess the origins.

Ghost nudges everything as far up the stone floor as he can without having to push himself out of the water, but Soap never moves to accept. Fear still encases every one of his senses, even if his life had been spared. Even if Ghost said he wouldn’t kill him.

“You can’t keep me here, you know. Not forever,” Soap declares shakily, wincing at the echo of his words. Ghost just stares at him, bobbing gently in the abyss of water, those amber eyes now two pitch black holes boring into Soap.

“I can’t even… how would I even cook and eat the fish? I’ll starve if I don’t first run out of air,” Soap continues.

Ghost watches Soap for another long, silent moment. There isn’t enough light for Soap to place his expression, but his lack of reply is worrying enough.

“I won’t let that happen,” Ghost eventually says. There’s decisiveness to his answer, but in the echoey confines of the cavern, Soap swears there’s a slight waver in confidence. Like Ghost hadn’t thought this completely through, despite the cocksure way he had acted up until this moment.

“I’ll need sunlight,” Soap argues weakly. “And to be dry.”

Ghost outwardly falters. Soap can imagine a plethora of thoughts and emotions crossing the siren’s face, all obscured in the dim lighting. Soap waits and waits as silence only stretches again for what are only minutes, but feel like hours.

“Then I’ll find somewhere new,” states Ghost, before sinking back into the water with that same air of mystery as he had the first time.

Soap sighs, careful to fill his lungs minimally, lest he suffocate.

Well, he supposes—maybe wringing out the old clothes and laying them out could at least make for a somewhat more comfortable place to die, and the oysters might be enough to tie him over as to not make his death nearly as miserable.

Maybe he shouldn’t have argued with Ghost in the rowboat. Maybe he should have pretended to be lured in by the female sirens’ song and be put to death far quicker than whatever torture this is, that Ghost has planned.

Dejectedly, Soap squeezes out what excess water he can from the fabric, bunches it up in a pile and lays down on the makeshift pillow. The constant drip, drip, drip makes it impossible to sleep, so instead he just shuts his eyes and listens to the sounds of water lapping the stone floor, waiting for the swish and ripple of a disturbance to mark Ghost’s return—if there ever would be one in time.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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Bulletproof (6/10)

Part Summary: It's three months after the attack on the compound and you lost your invincibility against bullets.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

The sound of the doorbell at “Café Lumière” reverberates around the room, your heart reacting before your head can even register it. It's the softest of sounds, but it pulls you like a siren's song. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of that door, with both trepidation and hope hinging on its every swing.

Steam curls up from the frothing milk, whispering past your fingertips as they work on a delicate latte art. Your focus is unwavering, yet as the door chimes again, your heart skips. You risk a glance, your hope suspended for that split second, only to crash back down when it's not her.

Louisa's eyes, which have been watching you mischievously for some time now, find yours.

“Clock's ticking,” she teases, nodding toward the ornate clock hanging precariously on the wall. “Not 3pm yet.”

You feign confusion, but your playful smirk gives you away. “What are you going on about?”

She grins knowingly. “Your weekly muse isn't due for another... oh, ten minutes or so?”

An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips, the warm notes of roasted beans surrounding you like a comforting embrace.

“I'm not waiting for her, you know,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Louisa smirks and pats your shoulder, “Sure, sure. Just give it time. She's never missed a Thursday, has she?”

As you're about to come up with a clever retort, a sharp sting on your finger draws your attention. You wince, looking down to see a thin, red line forming across your finger. Tearing the receipt from the register to hand to the awaiting customer, you’re slightly taken aback at how much the cut bleeds.

“Everything alright?” the customer asks, noticing the blood.

"Yeah, just a small paper cut," you dismiss, trying to downplay it. Grabbing a napkin, you press it against the cut, soaking up the crimson liquid.

Louisa's sharp eyes don't miss a beat. "Careful there. Those can be nasty," she comments, retrieving the first-aid kit from under the counter.

Louisa holds out a bandage, but you shake your head, not wanting to make a fuss over something so minor. “Really, I'm good,” you assure her.

A few seconds later, you open the napkin to check the cut. To your surprise, the skin seems perfectly whole, as if it had never been broken in the first place. You flex your finger, the earlier sting now a distant memory. “See? I'm fine,” you declare, shrugging.

Louisa tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in astonishment. “That healed incredibly fast. You sure you're okay?”

You chuckle, deciding to make light of the situation. “What can I say? Maybe I have superpowers.”

A soft clearing of the throat interrupts the moment. The customer, who you hadn't realized was keenly observing the entire exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Can I get some napkins, please?”

Flustered, you quickly hand a bunch over. “Of course, sorry about that.”

Louisa grins at you mischievously as the customer leaves, “Superpowers, huh? That's a new one.”

The doorbell rings out, pulling your attention instantly. You lift your gaze, hope surging momentarily, only to see the same customer making her way out. The door gently shuts behind them, the anticipation that had built up inside you deflating.

Louisa, noticing the brief flicker of disappointment in your eyes, nudges you playfully. “Don't look so down,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “She’ll be here. You know how punctual she is. Maybe she's just running a bit late today.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wonder though why she never gives her name,” Louisa muses.

“Hm?”

“You know, for the cup,” she clarifies.

You shrug. “Some people love their privacy, I guess.”

Hours seem to stretch endlessly, the weight of the clock's hands growing heavier with each passing minute. The crowd in the café starts to thin as evening nears. Although the store is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, your shift only lasts until 8. And in the midst of the dwindling crowd, one spot remains unclaimed—the corner seat by the window, the one she always chooses.

She is the sole reason you continue working here despite your persistent restlessness. Pouring coffee for hundreds of customers daily never truly satisfies you, even when some tip generously. There's an inexplicable nagging feeling, suggesting this isn't where you belong or what you should be doing.

Yet, what anchors you between the register and the espresso machine is the girl who comes in every Thursday, late in the afternoon, always punctually, sometimes a few minutes early. It's disconcerting and exhilarating, this sudden shift of your universe tilting on its axis. You've never been one to believe in love at first sight or fated connections, but there’s something in the way she holds herself, something in her gaze that tugs at strings you didn’t even know existed.

But even if you can write the sweetest song or the most evocative poem about every titillating thing about her, it’s just a crush.

A crush that will lead to nothing. Not because you've attempted to ask her out or because she's already spoken for.

It's because your very existence is shrouded in uncertainty.

The past few months have been a jumble of rehab appointments, therapy sessions, and sleepless nights trying to piece together fragments of memories that always seem just out of reach. Surviving that near-fatal crash was a miracle in itself, but the loss of your past—it took away a part of who you were. Or who you're supposed to be.

Every day, you grapple with an identity you don’t recognize, yearning for some semblance of the person you once were. A glance at the reflection in the coffee machine shows a face still unfamiliar. Eyes that hold stories you can’t read, a curve of a smile that feels out of place. When people share anecdotes from their past or talk about family and childhood, all you can offer is a nod, a practiced smile, and a tightness in your chest that never truly fades.

And how could you possibly burden her with this emptiness?

The small apartment you return to every evening, given by a private charity, is filled with borrowed things and a life that doesn't truly feel like yours. They said you had no family, no one waiting or weeping for your recovery. Your recovery was overseen by faceless benefactors who, for some reason, deemed you worthy of a second chance. Yet, every evening as you unlock your door, you wonder if you truly deserved it.

The beautiful woman who steps into the coffee shop every Thursday, with her air of confidence and those captivating eyes, deserves more than what you currently are. More than this fractured self, teetering on the edge of self-discovery and despair.

What could you possibly offer her? Nights filled with stories of... nothingness? Days shadowed by the fear of not knowing who stares back at you in the mirror? She deserves someone who is rooted in memories, with stories to tell. Not this fragmented existence you live.

Perhaps it's safer this way, to admire her from a distance, to let her remain this source of hope and inspiration. A lighthouse guiding you through the stormiest nights. If you ever manage to find yourself again, then maybe, you'd take that chance.

Glancing at the clock again, it's 7:45 PM. Still no sign of her.

Dejectedly, you remove your apron and prepare to leave.

Wanda Maximoff blends into the bustling streets, the hood of her jacket pulled low over her face and her boots echoing a muffled cadence on the pavement. Dressed in tight denim and a nondescript hooded jacket, she hardly resembled one of the most powerful Avengers.

She mumbles a silent curse under her breath, glancing at her watch. She's late—later than she's ever been—and she hates it. Thursdays at the cafe are her only remaining connection to you.

She can see the cafe now, its warm light spilling out onto the street. She pushes the door and her eyes immediately scan the room, searching for that familiar face behind the counter. The disguise continues to work; to everyone, she’s just another customer. She doesn't draw the same attention here as she does in New York.

It’s North Carolina after all, and the town they put you in cares more about art than superheroes.

Louisa's attempt at nonchalance is commendable but slightly betrayed by the quick tightening of her lips and the slight flutter in her eyes. “Good evening,” she begins, voice as steady as she can manage. “Can I get you the usual today?”

Wanda's gaze, sharp and unyielding, remains locked on Louisa's face. “Where's Y/N?” she asks tersely.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't share information about our staff's schedules.”

She pauses, letting the words settle before adding, “If you're looking to see Y/N, perhaps you can drop by tomorrow between 2 pm and 8 pm.”

“Oh,” Wanda mutters softly.

Vision, in his human disguise, comes up behind her. “Wanda, we should go,” he murmurs, attempting discretion, but Louisa catches his words nonetheless.

Wanda hesitates, her posture rigid. “I needed to see them, Vis,” her voice is laced with a quiet desperation, a yearning for something—or someone—lost.

“I know,” he replies softly. “But they aren’t here. And we can always go back tomorrow.”

“I just have a feeling,” Wanda says. “Maybe this time, they’ll—”

“You’ve had that feeling for weeks now, but nothing has changed.”

They've lowered their voices to whispers, forcing Louisa to strain her ears to catch the exchange between the two. Vision soon catches on to Louisa's subtle eavesdropping. Their conversation abruptly stops, and Wanda, a bit lost, looks up at him for an explanation. Vision subtly nods toward Louisa, signaling her presence.

Clearing his throat, Vision steps forward, deciding to divert attention. “A hibiscus tea, please,” he says.

Louisa, embarrassed at being indirectly called out, fumbles slightly before regaining her composure. “Of course. Name for the cup?”

“Victor,” Vision replies smoothly. With a nod, Louisa gets to work, while Vision takes a few steps to the side with Wanda, resuming their conversation in even lower tones.

Louisa sneaks occasional glances while pretending to be engrossed in her work. The two stand slightly apart, their conversation seeming both intimate and tense. Wanda's fingers fidget, wringing her hands, her lips moving quickly. Vision responds with a calming gesture, fingers grazing her forearm.

The steamer hisses as Louisa finishes the hibiscus tea, her curiosity deepening.

Setting the cup on the counter, she clears her throat. “Order for Victor!”

No reaction.

With a little more force, she calls again, “Hibiscus tea for Victor!”

Again, no response.

The cafe grows impatient, a soft buzz of conversation fills the air, and a few customers shoot curious glances at the duo.

“Victor!” Louisa exclaims, this time with a touch of impatience.

At this, Vision finally turns, the gentle hum of their conversation breaking. He approaches the counter, his blue eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Louisa simply nods, her gaze flitting between the pair. As they head towards the exit, she can't help but wonder about the nature of their relationship with you and what has them so concerned.

Three months ago

“You can’t do this to them.”

Wanda's voice crackles with anger and a hint of desperation, her collected demeanor fraying at the edges. The holographic projections of the globe, pinpointing potential locations and glimpses of Y/N's impending new life, bathe Wanda's face in a cold blue light, each flicker taunting her with the reality of your imminent departure.

Flashbacks flicker behind Wanda's eyes, pulling her into that harrowing moment. She feels you in her arms again, your life seeping away between her fingers. She's surrounded by dust-covered streets, crumbling buildings, and the deafening silence after the explosion. Your blood, vibrant and so, so red, pooling at the ground beneath you, staining Wanda’s shoes. She's paralyzed, every second stretching into an eternity, every breath a labor.

She was so slow, so clouded by fear. Why didn't she act faster? Why didn't she see the signs? Could she have saved you?

It was Steve's voice that brought her back to reality. “Wanda! We need to move!” She barely registered the panic in his voice, the way he swiftly and gently took you from her, laying you on a makeshift stretcher.

Every moment after that feels like an agonizing irony to Wanda. She knows grief and loss intimately, but this... this is an entirely different kind of pain. The trauma of watching you battle death is only overshadowed by the realization that while you might physically be here, mentally, the person who risked their life for her twice has disappeared.

In the quiet spaces of her heart, she acknowledges a truth she's been running from: she's spent so long building walls, so long pushing away the vulnerability that came with connecting deeply with someone, out of fear. Fear of loss, of pain, of being too raw and open. With you, those walls had started to crumble, brick by brick, but not fast enough.

She wishes she could go back, to relive those moments with the knowledge she has now.

“You can't do this to them,” she murmurs again, the words more for herself than anyone else.

Steve stands across from her, hands on the table, his posture rigid yet his face betraying a deep sadness. “Wanda, it's not about what I want or what you want. It's protocol.”

Wanda's face contorts with anger, her voice rising, “Protocol? Y/N isn't some object to be managed! They have rights, feelings, memories—”

“Which they don't even remember!” Steve interjects, his rarely-seen frustration surfacing on this particular occasion.

“You can’t just... toss them into the world like they're yesterday's news, Steve,” Wanda hisses with barely-contained anger. They remain the lone figures in the meeting room after the team unanimously voted to craft a new identity for you, placing you in a secluded town, untouched by global news, let alone the cosmic battles waged galaxies away.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wanda, it’s not about 'disposing' anyone. The protocol is clear. If a super loses their powers, they reintegrate. Y/N can't live in the compound because they no longer belong in this world of chaos and danger.”

“Because they're powerless?” Wanda’s eyes blaze. “Or because they're no longer of any use to the cause?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve says, stepping closer to Wanda and meeting her gaze. “Y/N has lost their memory, they don’t remember any of this—any of us. Keeping them here would only confuse and possibly hurt them.”

“They just sacrificed everything for me. And now you want to push them aside because it's convenient?”

“No,” Steve replies, “Because they’ve done enough. They’ve given enough. Don’t you think they’ve earned the right to a peaceful life? The privilege of normalcy?”

Her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that they should have the choice. And right now, we’re taking that away from them.”

“Your girlfriend showed up last night.”

You whip your head around to look at Louisa so quickly, it feels like you might've given yourself whiplash.

“Come again?”

Louisa grins, tying her apron around her waist with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. Your Thursday regular? Gorgeous, and those piercing green eyes? She came by looking for you after you left.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “That doesn’t mean she’s my... girlfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa teases, leaning in closer. “She seemed pretty keen on finding you. Even asked for you by name. Speaking of which... guess who found out her name?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Louisa nods, a smirk on her lips. “Wanda. Her name’s Wanda.”

“Wanda,” you repeat, savoring the name as it slips from your lips.

Putting a name to such an unforgettable face changes everything. But like so many things that have recently unfolded, you just don’t know the significance of it yet.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers #vision

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potatoqueenpal · 5 months ago

Text

Yall I'm SO SORRY for dipping on you I have no ideas and I'm still fighting to get my avior fic back.

Have filler till I think of more angst

I present to you: Shaw Pack and Mates: Incorrect quotes

Sam, filling out legal paperwork: Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB?

Sweetheart : Bold of you to assume I was born at all.

Baabe: I personally was created in a lab.

Angel: I just straight up spawned.

Sam: We call that a traumatic experience.

Sam, turning to Baabe: Not a "bruh moment".

Sam, turning to Angel: Not "sadge".

Sam, turning to Sweetheart : And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

Asher: Knock, knock.

Baabe: Who's there?

Asher: Boo!

Baabe: Boo who?

Asher: Why are you crying?

Baabe: I'm not crying.

Asher: Hello notcrying, I'm Asher.

Milo: Angel, you look deep in thought. What’s wrong?

Angel: Did you know you can look at any object and know what it’s like to lick it? Even if you’ve never touched it before?

Milo: I’m never asking you anything ever again.

David: There's nothing worse than people using big words they don't understand.

Milo: I photosynthesize with this.

Sweetheart: I’m this close to falling in love with Milo.

Asher: Your fingertips are touching.

Sweetheart: Exactly.

Asher, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.

Sweetheart : I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...

Baabe, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven?

Asher, spraying Sweetheart : You FUCKING DUMBASS!

Sweetheart : Dude, I forgot-

Asher: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?

Sam: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

Asher: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

David, turning to Darlin': How tall are you?

Angel: Sam said its my turn with the brain cell.

Asher: Square up.

Sam: And what do we say when someone refuses your offer?

Sweetheart : Suck it, boomer!

Sam: I don't know who "Boomer" is, but no.

Asher: *spits mouthful of blood onto floor* You’ve become far more powerful since we last crossed paths.

Dentist: Please stop, there’s literally a sink right next to you.

Baabe: I think my guardian angel drinks.

David: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Milo: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Asher: I got distracted halfway through.

Darlin': Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Asher: Consider the fundraising over! Your hero has arrived!

Sam: Uhh… where did you get so much money from, Asher?

Asher: Well, you know, I’m pretty good at numbers. I just crunched them, I stretched them, I analyzed my accounts, I timed the market-

*police sirens start to wail in the background*

Sam: DID YOU ROB A BANK?!

Asher: Oh, come on, Sam, do you really think so little of me? *opens the bag as purple dye explodes on their face*

Sam:

Asher: …it was a credit union.

Angel: Tell them to eat shit, David.

David: Tell them yourself.

Angel: Eat shit, asshole. Fall of your horse.

Milo, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?

Darlin': Yeah, sure.

*A few minutes later*

Darlin': Here you go.

Milo:

Darlin':

Baabe: Why am I here?

Angel: Guess what I'm about to get!

David: On my nerves.

Sweetheart : That's a nice arguement, Milo Why don't you back it up with a source?

Milo: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

Sam: Aww, what's your cat's name?

Milo: Aggro.

Sam, yelling to Baabe: TRY AGGRO!

Baabe, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK!

Milo:

Sam: What's your favorite number?

Angel: I’m so jetlagged I can’t even regrender my chorf.

*Everyone stares at Angel*

Angel: I don’t even know what I was trying to say.

Angel: I've connected the two dots.

David: You didn't connect shit.

Angel: I've connected them.

And now, wholesome (amd flirty) ship incoreect quotes:

｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･

David : Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Angel: It was autocorrect.

David : Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Angel: Yes.

Angel: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

David : I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Angel: I said within reason, David . How about I murder that guy?

David : So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Angel: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Angel: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

David : I have a gun on that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Angel: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

David : Nope, there's 26.

Angel: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

David : Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Angel: So give me the D.

Angel: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

David : ...Have you never taken a shower before?

David, sweating: Angel, there’s something I need to ask you-

Angel: Finally! You’re proposing!

David: How’d you know?

Angel: David, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Angel: I even picked it up once.

David: I want to kiss you.

Angel, not paying attention: What?

David: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

Baabe: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Asher: Wow. They sound stupid.

Baabe: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Asher: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Baabe: I guess you’re right. Hey Asher, I love you.

Asher: See! Just say that!

Baabe: Holy fucking shit.

Asher: If that flies over their head then, sorry Baabe, but they're too dumb for you.

Baabe: Asher.

Baabe: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Asher: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Baabe: Seize the dick.

Asher: We have a problem.

Baabe: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Baabe: I'm trash.

Asher: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you?

Baabe:

Baabe: You smooth motherfucker.

Baabe: And yes it does.

Asher: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

Baabe: Hi, I’m ‘things’.

Asher: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Baabe: I wrote you a poem.

Asher, already crying: You did?

Milo: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Sweetheart : If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

Milo: I fell—

Sweetheart : From heaven?

Milo: No, I literally fell—

Sweetheart : In love with me the moment you saw me?

Milo: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Sweetheart : Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Milo: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Sweetheart : AS ENEMIES?!

Milo:

Milo walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Sweetheart , I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Sweetheart , sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

Sweetheart : I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Milo: That's great, Sweetheart . Especially considering the fact we've been together for 6 fucking years.

Sweetheart : I’m in love with you.

Milo: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Sweetheart : I know.

Milo: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Sweetheart: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it.

Milo: What- how?

Sweetheart: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

Milo: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Sweetheart is? Because Sweetheart is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Sam: The stars are so beautiful...

Darlin': They're just giant balls of gas.

Sam: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then-

Darlin': And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you.

Sam: Oh...

Darlin': Wow, Sam, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Sam: We literally slept together yesterday.

Darlin': That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

Sam: I love you.

Darlin', not paying attention: What was that?

Sam: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

Darlin': Well, Sam and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

Darlin': That's right... We kissed!

Darlin': What are you in the mood for?

Sam: World domination.

Darlin': That's a bit ambitious.

Sam: You are my world.

Darlin': Aww...

Sam:

Darlin':

Sam:

Darlin': OH.

Darlin': I have feelings for you.

Sam: Why? What's wrong with you? Are you sure you're okay?

Waiter: What would you like?

Darlin': Bring a milkshake with two straws.

Sam: *blushes*

Darlin': *puts both straws in their mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!!

Darlin': You got a date yet Sam?

Sam: No...

Darlin': Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

Darlin': Are we fighting or flirting?

Sam: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-

Darlin': Your point?

Darlin': I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Sam: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Darlin': O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Sam: Is it working?

Sam: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Darlin': …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Sam: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

Darlin': Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

Darlin': Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine.

Sam: Marry me.

Darlin': This date is boring!

Sam: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Darlin': Then why did you invite me?

Sam: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Sam I'll do whatever I want!

(This is long as fuuuuck and took me a good hour, but it was fun)

#redactedverse #silly goofy mood #lol #redacted audio

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ubtendo · 3 months ago

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Tell👏us👏about👏your👏oc👏

Oh- uh..

well lemme just quickly-

Here

AND THE CROWD GOES- oh the crowd's going home🧍‍♀️

Hnn, ok so I haven't drawn anything this whole week basically, so I'm sorry if this looks messy, she's really hard for me to draw since I don't usually draw any characters with wings😶‍🌫️

But apart from the bulletpoints on the post, I guess I don't have much more to add but to expand the explanation a bit

So this is Branwen (welsh name, from what my two or so hour research for a proper name told me, it means "white-" or "blessed raven" and even tho she's not a raven, it's close enough and sounds really cool), and shes an Icebound OC

Basically, in my head I imagine, once the party gets to the icebear cave and try to find the pawprints in the snow, its kinda hard to track, she would be sitting on top of the cave unnoticed and sort of nonchalant mention that yes, there is a fisher town in that direction. The party is startled by her just standing there, and at first they wouldn't recognise her as a harpy (she covers herself with her wings, it would look like a big white coat) but Barnabos would start to freak out because in his head harpies would be like sirens and sirens are like witches of the sea so she is like a witch to him.

She basically follows the group after this, saying she only wants to make sure, should they die, that none of the animals could get to the bodys because she would make use of them. The party goes "well we're five we could kill you now, you couldn't beat us" and she just grabs Skrimm by the face with her talons, flies way up and tells him she could drop him, he wouldn't survive the fall, and she would do it to everyone else as well, should she feel like it. She lets him down fine, but everyone is very cautious around her now (it's only in the beginning they'll warm up to each other it's fineee)

Yeah she's kind of a jerk, but there are way too many sweet ocs, I gotta balance things out here/j

#oof look at me going of about an oc again #i mainly see people make ocs like a playable character and thats super cool as well #but...harpy...🥺🥺#i wish they were an official race and not just an enemy #icebound #icebound oc #legends of avantris #loa #loa oc #dnd #oc #original character #harpy oc #my art #digital art #also the little doodle of the owl i just made for fun- you could count that as omen i guess

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komipacket · 3 months ago

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knock knock knock hi im curious to know more about your au with charlie as a fish… is he like a triton? a merman? a siren? what kind of fish is he? how’d he and mariana meet? sorry im just silly about slimeriana sooooo :3

OH DAMN MY GUY you asked me the right thing! I can talk about this AU for HOURS! Anyways, the whole idea is that some characters are sea creatures some people. The main characters are Charlie and Mariana (OF COURSE lmao)

[sorry ill reuse some stuff from my other post]

Charlie is a moray eel merman, so hes a carnivore. Also (remembering one chuckle sandwich episode) he has a second smaller set of teeth. His tail is really long and massive and he has some fins on his body.

So now its time for the story!

Mariana was a simple fisher doing some different little jobs connected with the sea. Basically he and his best friend Roier were sailing around different places delivering things or selling fish. Everything they could to make money yk. One day something really unsual happens. Their net caught something big and heavy. At first he fears it's a shark, that would be bad. But then... Mariana realises its literally A MERMAN he looks at him in shock like what the hell. At the same time Charlie is SCARED looking at the fisherman like in "i guess ill die" way.

He had heard of mermaids and mermen, but he always considered them a myth. He had seen a megalodon, he had seen a kraken, but not them.

Mariana sighs. If he brought him to the port. He will become a rich man, a lucky man. But….something inside unpleasantly gnawed at his heart

The guy took out a knife

"Hoy es tu día de suerte, muchacho." (Today is your lucky day, guy.)

He went to the net and cut the ropes to let Charlie go. The creature's pupils narrowed as it looked at the knife, but then the words caught it off guard. Once the ropes were cut enough to get out, Charlie looked at Mariana in genuine surprise, and then with one movement he dived sharply into the water. He quickly disappeared from sight into the depths.

"¡Oye, qué estás cortando ahí! ¡Сomprarás una red nueva!" (Hey, what are you cutting there! You'll have to buy a new net!)

An old friend of Mariana's comes up from behind. Very annoying and completely useless. However, better than alone. Roier chuckled and looked at the net with confusion.

Mariana winced, turning around and looking at Roier

"si…si si! Se acaba de formar un nudo, ¡así que lo corté! ¿Ya has revisado las velas? Pensé que estaban rotos" (Yeah…yeah, that's right! There was just a knot here, so I cut it! Have you checked the sails yet? I thought they were damaged)

Royer picks his ear with his little finger and glances at the sails.

"No, servirá. ¡Veo una buena capturado!" The guy smiles, "¡Ya quiero ir pronto a la orilla! ¡Y a la barra! Espero que estés conmigo, ¿eh?"

(Nah, they're fine. I see there's a good catch today! I wanna to go to the shore as soon as possible! And to the bar! I hope you're with me, huh?)

Roier playfully pokes Mariana with his elbow and giggles mysteriously. It seems he already had plans on where to spend all the money.

The return to the shore turns out to be quite calm. Seagulls occasionally screamed over the ship and the scorching sun forced their eyes to close from the bright light. Only rare dull knocks under the ship raised some questions. Perhaps it was some garbage there…

Charlie swam on the heels of the ship. At first, he thought of hiding at the bottom and never returning close to the surface of the water again. But then the beautiful face of the fisherman flashed in his head and the merman, as if enchanted, swam closer to the surface to look at the man again. He let him go. It was so sweet of him. The last time he saw people, they either screamed in horror or tried to kill him. And this one… is different. Maybe this is a chance? Charlie really decided to watch his new acquaintance for a while… Just… Out of interest…

===

So that was their first meeting. After that Charlie swam after them and basically stalked Mariana for some time lmao. There's a lot of things happening in this AU. I made it up with my close friend Cherry and we really enjoy it. If you wanna learn more about this story just let me know!

So yeah sorry for my spanish i used translator hope it's not mierda yk

Must adress that later in the story there's one OC that becomes another daughter to Slime and Mariana (Yes we also have flippa too), but basically all the characters are from MC RP thingy there's qsmp mainly but somehow we have Schlatt as the villain pirate lmao anyways, it's pretty funny

#my art #qsmp #slimeriana au #slimeriana #qsmp slimeriana #slimecicle #el mariana fanart #el mariana #qsmp el mariana #what else can i type here #MORE TAGS!!!!#SLIMERIANA FANS WAKE UP #misclick duo #komipacket

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

A Fresh Start [13]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: sick child, medical procedures, anxiety, reliving past traumas, panic and fear about losing a loved one

Word Count: 3,439

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

A/N: HEY MY DUDES. THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT INSPIRED IT ALL. I pictured the scenes in this chapter in my head, wanted to write it, but I knew in order to have the emotional impact I wanted it to have i had to build a full ass story around it and I did lolol.

Thanks to all who have shared their love! This is like my fourth update in four days but unfortunately that will slow a bit this weekend. I’m crazy busy this weekend so it might not be until next week that you get a real update.

Ch. #13: THE DANGER HAS PASSED, CYAR’IKA

Chapter Summary: You must relive your past in order to save your future.

“She was powerful,

not because she wasn’t scared

but because she went on so strongly,

despite the fear.”

-atticus

After deciding to go to the clinic, you paused only to tuck your blaster into the back of your waistband before sprinting out the door. It would take you at least fifteen minutes to get to the clinic, and that was if you ran the entire way. Hot wiring and stealing the neighbor’s speeder bike? That would take you two minutes top. A talent you had Tatooine to thank for.

When you set Grogu in the speeder’s basket, so your hands would be free, he screamed. A mixture of unintelligible cries and ‘Ma’ over and over again. Hands trembling, you got the bike going and jumped on. It maybe wasn’t the safest to drive with Grogu in your arms, but you couldn’t bear to not hold him. The streets were bare of anyone and everyone. There had been no city wide siren for a warning, like Coruscant had, but the word about the pirates must have got around.

Everyone was hiding.

As predicted, you got there in a quarter of the time on the speeder bike and when you reached the clinic you hopped off before it came to an actual stop. The bike ended up slamming into the clinic wall without someone to turn it away, but you were already halfway through the door. Just like the rest of Nevarro, it was bare.

“Hey!” You screamed as you reached the empty front desk of the waiting room. “Daelar! Where the kriff are you!?” A woman, a young Twi’lek, poked her head out from around the corner. “You!” She jumped at your tone. “Get me Daelar right now.”

“He’s not here, ma’am.” She shook her head.

Whatever. You didn’t have time to chase that bastard. “Fine. Where’s the med droid!?”

“Broken.” She admitted. “If this is an emergency I can call a shuttle to take you off world.”

You felt the blood leave your face, your heart stopped in your chest, breath caught in your lungs. The words slipped from your mouth, aghast, “What did you just say?”

“Daelar left off world hours ago, and the droid has been malfunctioning since yesterday.” She repeated. “But I can…”

She was still talking. Her mouth was moving, but all you could hear was Grogu’s whimpering cries and a high pitched whine that filled your head⏤ as if a bomb had gone off and left you deaf to the world. Daelar left? He left off world knowing the droid was broken? Knowing that he’d be leaving all of this world without a healer?

“How long for a shuttle?” You demanded. “How long to get to the⏤ How long!?”

“An hour tops, I would guess, but I cannot guarantee⏤”

“No, no, no.” You moaned. Even if that time estimate was accurate it was too long. Grogu was getting hotter and hotter, his cries getting weaker and weaker, and you hated the way his eyelids fluttered weakly. You shook your head. “Unlock the doors for me. I need to get back there.”

“I’m sorry. That’s for medical personnel only.” She replied. She set her hands on the desk.

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am⏤”

Without blinking, you pulled the blaster out from the back of your waistband and leveled it at her. Her eyes widened in panic. Hands shot up in surrender. You chose to leave the safety on. You didn’t want to hurt this woman, but you weren’t going to let her stand in your way either.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” You seethed. “That door will be unlocked, I will have access to the medical supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

She nodded once and you lowered the blaster. The Twi’lek hurried to the side door and you followed her. She used her hand print to open the door into the emergency medical bay. The large room had four cots in total, and the side wall was made up entirely of glass cabinets where you could see supplies and ingredients. You quickly set Grogu on the closest cot and the fact that he didn’t even react to being set down sent a sharp strike of fear through you.

“Hey, what’s your name?” You shouted back at the girl while hooking up Grogu to the vitals machine.

“Aayla.”

“What’s your training?”

“I’m⏤I’m new to this. I’m a tech.”

No official medical training, but a tech would be helpful. You pointed to her, voice clear and loud, to get your order heard. “Aayla, get four ice packs. I want one under him, on top of him, and on either side. I need to cool him down quickly. Understand?”

She nodded and turned to the supplies to get the ice packs. The vitals machine began to blare, and your head snapped back to look at it. Heart rate was much too fast, even for Grogu who ran high naturally. His oxygen level was hovering on the lower end of normal. His temperature though⏤ Maker⏤ it was 102 degrees and you watched in horror as the decimal point next to it changed from 3 to 7. It was still steadily rising.

The sound of his whimpers, the blaring of the machine, you felt stuck. You were trapped in that moment once more watching Soran die. You shouldn’t have been her physician. It was too personal.

This was so much worse.

Aayla returning with the ice packs was what snapped you back to reality. You were scared, terrified, but you couldn’t afford to be. You swallowed every ounce of it and forced yourself to move. You needed to act.

You had told Din it was normal for parents to panic, but you couldn’t.

Your next movements were a blur of muscle memory. It didn’t matter that this clinic was unfamiliar to you. Training kicked in and you moved like a woman possessed. Fluids first. You grabbed a bag and set it in the cooler before returning to Grogu with IV gear.

“Aayla.” You sent her to the supplies and called out all the materials and supplies you would need to compound the medicine. While shouting them out, you began to attempt to start an IV on Grogu. It wasn’t easy. His arm was small, his veins smaller. It took you three tries before you finally got it in. Aayla had brought over all the items requested and you sent her for the fluids you set in the cooler. “Clip it in, and hang it.”

Aayla confirmed the order and you stepped aside to begin to work. You needed an antipyretic first. The rising fever was the most dangerous aspect of Grogu’s sickness right now. Any higher and he could start to have seizures⏤ any higher and his body could shut down. Anxiety crawled up your spine and latched to your mind. It had been so, so long since you compounded anything. What if you messed this up? No. You didn’t have time to doubt yourself. Go with your gut. Trust yourself.

When you added the last ingredient the liquid turned from clear to an electric blue and relief flooded your body. Aayla watched intently as you hurried back over and connected the vial of antipyretics to a medigun. You pressed the clean needle to Grogu’s outer thigh and pulled the trigger. All of the liquid disappeared and you set the gun aside.

“How do you know how to do all this?” Aayla gasped.

“I’m a doctor.” You answered mechanically.

Now, you needed an antibiotic. Same process. Different ingredients. You wanted to cover as many bugs as possible, go as broad as you could, and then once Grogu was stable the coverage could narrow to something more specific. It took you about the same time to make the antibiotic and when the liquid turned the shade of purple it was supposed to be you rushed back to Grogu’s side.

Aayla held up the medigun when you went to search for it and you realized she had replaced the needle with a fresh one and sanitized the entire thing. You thanked her and injected this one into Grogu’s opposite thigh. Fluids. Antipyretics. Antibiotics. That was all you could do.

Now, it was out of your hands.

Din’s entire body ached, and he was exhausted. The only reassuring thought being that the fight was over, and he could go home. Home to Grogu. Home to you. As much as he still wanted to have that talk, he wondered if he could convince you to hold off until tomorrow. All he wanted right now was to crawl into bed with you and his son in his arms. Granted, he might need to have the talk before inviting you into his bed again. Details, details. Din just needed to get home, and you’d have a plan⏤ you’d know what to do.

Clearing the rest of the ex-Imperial base had gone very well. When only two pirates were left standing they both surrendered. Din figured this could be used to their advantage. Pirates were hardly the loyal kind. A little squeezing and they could possibly find where Gorian Shard liked to hide. Granted, that was more along the lines of a bounty hunter’s thoughts than a Marshal’s. Din chose to come back with Mayfeld and Cara to shove the two pirates into the cells. They could be dealt with in the morning.

“Good job today.” Din grunted, already moving toward the door, “Stay home tomorrow. Rest. I’ll work the shifts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cara scoffed. “We can still come in.”

“Uh, speak for yourself.” Mayfeld chimed. Din was halfway down the hall when Mayfeld called out for him. Din’s feet came to a stop and he heaved an audible sigh. This really was the day that would not end. “Boss man! Seriously! Get in here now!”

Din jogged back, happy that his helmet wouldn’t show just how annoyed he was right now, and when he re-entered the room both Cara and Mayfeld were crowded around a holopad. Cara glanced up and the look on her face filled Din’s stomach with lead. “An intruder alarm was set off while we were out. From the clinic.” Din’s entire body stiffened. No. He was jumping to conclusions. You promised you’d stay in the house, he called Daelar to go to you. There was no way you and Grogu could’ve been there while someone broke in. “You should see this.”

Mayfeld flipped the holopad around at her words and Din’s eyes focused on a security feed. A young Twi’lek girl stood behind the front desk with her hands raised in surrender while a familiar figure wielding a familiar blaster aimed the end at her chest. Din would recognize your voice anywhere, in any setting, at any time. Even with the security feed adding in a garbled white noise under it all, he knew your voice.

“⏤supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

He lifted his gauntlet to check his communicator link. What was going on? Why hadn’t you called? His eyes widened when he realized the circuitry in his vambrace was dead. No, no, no. He slammed his other hand into it as if that would miraculously fix it, but it stayed dead. The taser. Dank farrik. He should’ve been paying attention. Din had lost contact with you hours ago and was only just now realizing it.

Din spun on his heel and took off down the hall in a sprint. Cara and Mayfeld were calling out to him, he could hear footsteps following, but he didn’t pause and wait. The clinic was right down the road. He needed to get there. Din needed to be there⏤ now.

You had pulled over a stool and sat by the cot’s side. One hand resting on the half melted ice pack on Grogu’s belly and the other holding his tiny hand. Then you waited on baited breath. Aayla was moving about the room, cleaning you thought, but all you could do was stare at the young boy who looked so small on such a large cot.

“Please, please. Oh, Maker, please.” You mumbled the pleas under your breath⏤ willing the universe to bend to your will. Grogu was your first patient since Soran. If anything happened to him you wouldn’t survive it. You barely survived losing Soran. Kriff, it could be argued that a part of you didn’t. You watched Grogu’s chest rise and fall. ‘Please, please, please.’ You were pleading⏤ begging. If you thought it would help you’d get on your knees and scream at the sky.

Finally, the machines chirped and when you looked up from Grogu to read the numbers you saw his temperature had fallen two full degrees. Your lower lip quivered, relief slamming into you, and it took all your strength to not crumple to the floor.

Din barreled through the clinic’s doors⏤ hard enough that he accidentally shattered the glass as it slammed into the wall. The Twi’lek he had seen on video popped her head around the corner with wide eyes. She held her hands out.

“You’re the Marshal.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I hit the alarm because a woman came in⏤”

“Where is she!?” He barked.

“This is a misunderstanding. I don’t want to press charges⏤ she’s actually a doctor and⏤”

“Where⏤”

Cara slid in behind him and blurted. “That’s his son and wife. Let him through.”

The girl nodded in understanding, and Din couldn’t even spare a thought toward the title Cara had given you. The clinic worker pointed through a set of double doors and Din stormed past her without another second of hesitation. The back room was filled with cots and shelves of medical supplies.

Sitting in the corner though, he saw Grogu lying on a cot with an IV in his arm and connected to the machine on the wall. Din didn’t recognize all the numbers and symbols, but they were all written in a neutral green rather than a dangerous red. Right by his bed, you were perched on a stool with your hands holding onto Grogu while your head rested on the cot. At the sound of his arrival into the room, you lifted your head and your eyes widened. Din rushed toward you and you stood up so fast the stool fell to the floor.

“He’s okay now. He’s stable.” You blurted. “Daelar never brought me the⏤ the medicine. Grogu spiked a fever and got worse, I tried to call⏤”

“My communicator broke. I’m so sorry.” Din leaned over the cot and cautiously ran a hand over his son’s head. Grogu didn’t look sick right now. He just looked like he was sleeping. Snoring softly without a single cough. “The fever⏤”

You spoke up. “It broke maybe twenty minutes ago? It’s normal now. All his vitals are. I gave him antipyretics and antibiotics for whatever infection he has. He’s stable.” Din let out a sigh of relief and he bowed his head to lightly tap against Grogu’s. Your voice shook. “He’s stable.”

Din slowly lifted his gaze to look to you. You had never looked so small before. Panic and fear still shone bright in your eyes despite the air of confidence you were trying to push out. Your arms were wrapped around your own body. Din took a step toward you and you flinched.

“Cyar’ika.” He whispered. “It’s okay.” You nodded once⏤ swallowed hard. “You said it yourself. Grogu is stable. He’s safe.” Your lower lips quivered and he watched you bite down on it. Din took another step and held his hand out to you. “You saved him. You. You did this⏤ you saved him.” Tears collected in your eyes and you lifted your gaze to the ceiling as if to avoid looking directly at him. Din knew you must have been a storm of genius confidence just like he saw you last night. He had seen the video of you holding a stranger at blaster’s end to get the supplies you needed. Din also knew that sometimes it was easy to take action, grab ahold of the danger, and let your body act while your mind took a backseat. Instinct took over. When that happened, it was hard to slip back into reality. To relax. “It’s over now. The danger has passed, Cyar’ika.” Din set his hands on your arms. “Talk to me.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his and those collected tears streamed down your face. You shook your head, voice shaky and pained, “I was so scared, Din.”

He was already pulling you into his chest at the same time that you leaned into him. Din cupped the back of your neck, squeezing in reassurance, as you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. You sobbed into his neck⏤ tears soaking into his cloak. He whispered that everything was okay and his words slipped out in Mando’a out of habit. Din added in Basic. “You did so good, ner kar’ta.”

“I was so scared I was going to mess up.” You clung to him so tightly. As if he was the only thing anchoring you here. “He was so sick and I⏤I haven’t done this in so long. I was terrified⏤ He⏤If he⏤ If he died⏤” Din didn’t even like thinking along those lines. You suddenly pulled your face away from him, but Din wouldn’t let you get far. He kept you caged in his arms. You shook your head. “I⏤I didn’t want him to end up like Soran.” Your words came out between harsh sobs. “I didn’t want to be the reason somebody I loved died again.”

If Din wasn’t the kind to pay attention then your words would have been nonsensical. However, he knew you were hiding from something. He knew you had a past that led to a terrible injury. And he knew your name wasn’t Soran. The way you screamed it out that night he woke up. Plus, half the time when he called out to you using that name you never answered. Din got more response from calling you ‘Cyar’ika’. He knew all of this, he just didn’t care. Who you were didn’t matter to him. You mattered to him. You in this moment. You in his arms.

Din tore off his gloves, something he’d never do outside of the safety of his ship or home, but he needed to touch you. He needed you to feel the warmth. Din cupped your face tenderly, using his thumbs to swipe away the lingering tears. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead softly to rest against yours.

“I don’t know your history, I don’t know your past, but here’s what I do know.” Din spoke slowly, enunciated every single word so it would be seared into your mind. “You are an incredible woman. Smart, beautiful, brave⏤ You never cease to amaze me, and there is nobody in this galaxy that I would trust Grogu with over you.” The words rang true as they left his lips. It wasn’t a simple comfort. It was a declaration. “Every single day I leave my home, I know⏤ without a doubt⏤ that I am leaving Grogu in the most capable hands other than my own.”

“Din…” You breathed.

Maker, he wanted to kiss you. It wasn’t a desire born of lust. Not this time. Din wanted to press feather light kisses against every inch of your face. Use his lips to brush away your tears, to stop your lip from quivering, to chase away your fear. Never, in his entire life, had his helmet felt like such a restriction to him. A wall of beskar keeping him from bringing you the comfort you needed. The comfort he wanted to give.

“I trust you, and all tonight does is prove that I was right.” Din said. “You saved Grogu. Not me, not anyone else. You.” You took in a slow breath, the first steady one he had seen from you since he got here, and he felt his entire body relax at the sound. “Thank you. Just thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” You replied. “I’d do anything for him. Anything, Din.”

“I know.”

“I’d…” You paused. Your eyes closed and Din found himself missing the color. Even for the brief moment it was missing. “I’d do anything for you too.” Your eyes opened once more and the panic and fear had faded. Leftover tears clung to your eyelashes, but he was staring into eyes he recognized⏤ eyes filled with so much kindness and care that his knees felt weak. “I love Grogu and I… You…”

Din nodded and pulled away from your face so he could tuck you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he set his head atop yours. Din needed to feel more of you. He ran a hand up and down your spine, “You’re important to me as well, ner kar’ta.”

For the first time since he left the house this morning, Din felt at peace.

mando’a translations

Cyar’ika: Darling, sweetheart

Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian and grogu #Female reader #reader insert #slow burn #cara dune #migs mayfeld

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mossyivy · 1 year ago

Text

𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 ℝ𝕦𝕟 [𝔼𝕟𝕕]

DI!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Leon finally wakes up...

Words: 1.5k

Content Warning: kinda Cliff hanger end (sorry not sorry), talks of loneliness and emptiness

[Previous Part]

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

He huffs in irritation, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he shuts the filing cabinet with his hip. An hour of searching this entire room and nothing.

I'm getting too old for this job...

Glancing over at you, he turns his flashlight off, walking over as he slips it into it rightful place in his pocket. Leon leans on the desk, moving closer down to your level.

"Anything interesting?" You shake your head.

"Nothing useful. Just a bunch a money transfers and employee back and forth... You?" You look up at him from the desk chair. Frustration written across your face.

"They cleaned the place out. Not a single scrap of anything useful."

"You still got that flashdrive with the copies of anything we could get off from the servers that wasn't blocked by a password?" Leon nods, giving you a curious slide eye.

"Why?"

"Claire is gonna want copies of everything we could find. Especially if this is another outbreak contained to Havana. TerraSave would appreciate it."

In the moment all he can think back to is Alcatraz and the hell that day was. How he could have been turned himself if it wasn't for the luck of Rebecca showing up at the right exact time with a vaccine.

With the life he's had alone, he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

He softly shrugs with a nod. You were right, whatever information you could find in the moment was important. If you didn't gather it, it just be destroyed to save face for the bioweapon creating organization you were investigating this week.

You look over at the rows of servers, blue lighting up against the wall, grinning you look back at Leon.

"You feel like destroying shit?"

"What did you have in mind?" He smirks watching you reach into your holster pouch and pull out a grenade.

"Boom boom?" He breathes out a laugh, grabbing your shoulder and giving it an approving squeeze.

"That's my girl, I'm teaching you well."

Within minutes you were both rushing out of the room, the clunk of the grenade echoing as it bounced across the floor. The sliding door to the room shutting behind you both as the loud BOOM pierced the air.

Causing the metal door to indent outwards and slowly clang onto the floor. You stare at the door rocking back and forth on its indent. Leon looks at you, giving a nod of approval right before the hallway turns into a flashing red color and sirens start blaring.

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best idea!" He yells over the loud screeching.

Both turning you hall ass back the way you originally came in. Stopping in your tracks you both look as a metal gate closes over the end of the hallway, you're only exit.

"Son of bitch..." You mumble, turning to look at him. He starts looking around, trying to formulate some kind of plan.

Leon pushes a door open gesturing for you to come over, stepping to him you see a staircase going up.

"I guess you could say, things are looking up." You groan at his stupid remark he definitely thinks is funny.

"Boo, hiss. Bad joke." You push past him and start up the stairs.

"Oh, like you could do any better Smartass." He quickly follows, keeping up with you. Making it to the first landing you turn and look back at him.

"Did no one ever tell you? You can't trust stairs Leon, they're always up to something." You feign irritation as he smirks.

"God, I really am teaching you well."

"Shut up."

You two travel up the stairs, checking each door, finding it locked. Until reaching the 5th and final floor.

Reaching the landing you both notice the door is wide open. Leon draws his weapon, you following suit as you step into the hallway, noticing the mess of papers across the carpeted floors. Office doors all left open for all the world to see. Most likely when the building was originally evacuated not long after everyone arrived.

"Looks like everyone really was in a hurry to get the hell out of here."

"I doubt anyone's left up here," Leon adds, looking into a nearby office, "and we don't really have all the time in the world to search every room. We need to get back to the group."

"So what's the plan then?" Watching Leon he steps around the corner, you follow behind without much thought. Soon you both approach a set of double doors and press them open.

Walking in you're met with a long hall, metal grates beneath your thick boots as you step in. The red lights from before illuminating the area. You both look to the sides of the rails seeing that there's a high drop on both sides.

"I knew we'd find this eventually," Leon looks at you, his eyes filled with accomplishment, "this is the long stretch we saw connecting the office to the hospital side when we arrived."

"Oh, good find then Kennedy."

Continuing forward you both holster your weapons and start walking the long stretch. Clanking fills the hallow room as you both walk.

"Do you think they cleared the hospital completely?" You question, glancing at Leon in your peripheral.

"I'd assume so. Though Chris hasn't contacted me like he's supposed to so-" Leon's cut off by a loud metal scrapping with a wet gurgling sound rattling against the walls.

You look up at the wall to your right and see it. A disgusting gooey looking monstrosity with 4 long tentacle like arms, clinging to the wall. It shrieks before lunging and missing you both and wetly slopping onto the metal grates behind you.

Taking off towards the end of the walk away you both draw your pistols getting ready to fight it. Leon turns and fires at it, pushing you to keep running towards the exit.

Hearing him to pop shots you turn seeing it quickly making it's way across the high ceiling, directly for you. You aim and fire a few shots, hitting it and blowing a hole in one of it's long arms.

Before you reach the exit the monstrosity drops in front of the door blocking your way to freedom. It swings it injured arm out, wrapping your legs up swiftly, Leon shoots at it's arm, your gun goes flying from your hand and off the platform.

Being jerked into the air you feel a crunch in your leg, shooting pain going to your ankle as you scream in agony being waved around, your body flailing like a rag doll as gun shots continue to pop through the air.

The beasts arm finally snaps off, sending you over the edge of the walkway and into the dark abyss below. Screaming for help as you plummet into whatever lies below.

"NO!" Leon looks over the rail seeing you disappear almost instantly into the darkness below. Finally hearing a loud crash a few seconds later.

Looking at the thing in his way he makes the quick decision to just do what he knows best...

Blow it to hell.

Grabbing his own grenade her grabs the trigger and pulls the pin throwing it at the monster. He jumps over the railing diving into the dark as he hears the explosion blow above him.

Darkness... He's surrounded by darkness as he hopes to live, for the first time in a long time he cares if he lives. He needs to know if his partners okay...

Being swallowed by the only black he sees the hole you've made, you laying lifeless on tile right before he almost lands next to you.

...

The darkness soon breaks... Being replaced by a bright blinding light.

A blinding florescent light.

Leon cracks his eyes open, looking down at himself. A white hospital blanket pulled up to his shoulders and a thick fleece gray blanket covers his lower half.

I'm in a hospital?

To his right she sees a heart monitor, IV bag dripping liquids into him and a tiny thin tube leading somewhere to him.

The hell happened to me...

Looking to his left, he sees you. Curled up in an arm chair asleep, covered by a black blanket. Your hand holding onto his for dear life.

"mmm..." He can't really talk yet, but he weakly clenches his hand around yours. Giving the strongest squeeze he can manage in his weakened state.

Your head lifts slowly, sleep invading your eyes as you swore in your sleep your felt something. Looking up at Leon you see his head slightly turned towards you, blue eyes on you, brightest you've seen them in these past grueling week.

"Leon!" Darting up from your chair, you lean over him. Staring at his eyes as you study him to make sure you aren't having some cruel dream.

"Where..." His voice is so hoarse as he tries to talk, you stop him.

"Don't, don't talk... Just let yourself wake up." You look at the table grabbing the nurse call button and start pushing it a few times.

"You're at a rehabilitation hospital in DC... There's a lot to explain."

A nurse and Dr. Owens comes in as you take a seat, watching them do an exam on Leon as he responds the best he can.

It took a while for Leon to be able to respond properly, his doctor doing more scans, tests and anything possible to test his abilities.

Sadly you both found out that Leon would have to relearn how to walk again and get his strength back up. Both very possible through physical therapy.

...

But through it all he still has you. From being in a wheelchair at your retirement dinner, moving him into your tiny apartment to keep an eye on him and watching him take his first steps again without assistance.

An now, 4 months later, he still has you by his side. Making sure he's taken care of and cherished like he's supposed to be. He knows he's loved, he's never felt this loved before in his life.

Even now as you walk out of the restaurant you went to for his 40th birthday. A day you made a huge fuss about, something he probably wouldn't have done if you didn't make him enjoy himself.

You look up seeing him walk out, cane pressing against the sidewalk with a soft click as he waltzes over and sits next to you on the bench.

"You okay, Hun?" He nods with a smile, messing with something in his pocket. He looks nervous almost.

"I just don't get why you made such a big deal out of today." Leon looks at you, letting his cane go and holds onto the edge of the bench.

"It's your 40th birthday, Dumbass. Of course I'd make a big deal, the day is all about you." You smile watching his eyes light up, hands gripping the bench. Squeezing rhythmically, almost like it's a stress ball.

"Well," he begins, looking back at you with an inviting smile, "what if I don't want my birthday to be only about me?"

Your eyebrows wrinkle, confusion falling on your face before he starts fiddling around in his jacket pocket.

"You know, for the longest time I've felt lonely. Years, it's been years. Since before we met. Before I started working for the government."

"Leon, what's-" He cuts you off before you can say anything else.

"Please, let me talk. I promise I'm going somewhere with this." He sounds serious, nodding you shut up and let him go.

"I guess you could say that I felt empty. Tried filling the void with... a number of different things. Nothing ever made me happy or feel whole... Until I met you."

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and covers his hand with his other hand. Not taking his eyes off you.

"You were such a hard ass when we met. Didn't let me breathe wrong way without putting me in line. But, I liked it. I liked that you were blunt and not afraid to speak your mind or call me stupid. Especially if I was being stupid... And it made me feel like someone truly had my back. After all the shit I've been through."

A soft pop sound comes from his hands, a blue cap falling from his hands. Bouncing across the ground a few feet away.

"And then you told me you loved me. An proved it... Proved that I could depend on you. Stuck with me through recovery, even if the past few months have been a personal hell for me. You really showed me what it was like to be loved. Loved by someone who wanted the best for me and actually cared."

Finally, he moves his hands reaching into a small white cup, pulling out a plastic ring with a giant fake diamond on it. You gasp soft, looking at it your eyes start welling with tears. A few slipping out and leaving wet streaks down your cheeks. His smile grows larger, looking at you fondly. Like he always looks at you when he thinks you don't notice him.

"Now, I know it's nothing *fancy* and we can get you something real. I just haven't had the chance to leave your side and get something... not 50¢."

He grunts, sliding off the bench and to the ground, bad knee up and his good leg under him. Taking your hand you give a wobbly smile.

"I don't want to spend another day where I can't call you my wife... My actual wife. I don't want anybody else. Just you... Just you and me. Just the two of us."

He takes a deep breath, holding the ring up.

"Will you marry me?"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

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full-sunnies · 17 days ago

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Of Flowers and Fish (Part 1/2)

Pairing: flower shop owner!Soobin x siren!Reader

Genre: fluff, crack, angst

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: You didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone human.

Warnings: one mention of vore, portrayal of sirens might not be accurate to mythology, some cliche lines, author uses the story to project on her own issues, pls tell me if i missed smth

Notes: afab reader, short reader (although only mentioned once), reader has long hair and shark teeth, story takes place in the province, i apologize in advance if some of the scenes are weird they were just way funnier in my head 😭

Part 2

For Duckie, whose moments I will treasure forever. And for Luna, who asked to be a part of the story OSNFJDKSK.

Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.

Soobin’s little boutique was an instant hit. On his first day, he sold out of flowers within just two hours. It was a lesson learned. Afterward, he stocked up on more flowers and hired Beomgyu, an additional hand.

It was another busy day for them in the shop. Running around all day with custom bouquets in their hands, politely answering the flocks of girls that would coquettishly giggle at them—it was a lot to do even for young men like them. Who would have guessed so many flowers could sell in such a small area?

Soobin sighed as he flipped the sign on the shop’s door to “Closed.” He had let Beomgyu leave early, feeling sorry for him after being swarmed all day. Though Beomgyu initially protested, Soobin insisted he could handle closing up on his own. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. 5:53 PM. The sun usually sets around this time of the year.

I really am lucky to have a view like this for work, he thought to himself as he looked over the rocky shore where his little boutique resided.

Wait. Why is there a girl sitting in the open ocean at this time? And on that sharp ass rock?

He squinted at the girl as he closed the shop, going down to the sea afterwards to take a closer look.

What the fuck does she think she’s doing?

Maybe she’s having an emo moment, his mind replied.

Should I just leave her be then? He stopped walking.

What? No! And if she dies of hypothermia? What will you do then?

Drawn by the sound of the girl’s singing, Soobin found himself moving closer, unable to resist. It was as if he had become a puppet, helplessly pulled toward its master. His thoughts blurred as he waded into the sea, his clothes clinging to his skin as the icy water rose to his chest. His hydrophobia screamed for him to stop, and the cold sent shivers through his body, but he couldn’t fight the compulsion to reach the source of that angelic voice.

When he finally reached the rock, he saw her. The creature behind the enchanting melody. The one with the long, majestic hair and a face that was probably even more beautiful.

You.

You stopped humming and turned, sensing someone behind you. Soobin froze when your eyes met. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, so why were alarm bells going off in his head?

Despite the unease creeping up his spine, he took a hesitant step closer as you silently observed him.

And smiled.

His eyes widened in shock as he noticed your sharp, spiky teeth.

What the actual fuck is THAT? What kind of dentist allowed this monstrosity? Leaving ASAP. Don’t care how pretty she is. She’s probably insane.

But it was the sight of your tail that really did it. Without another thought, Soobin spun on his heels and bolted for the shore. Which was kinda stupid. He never had a chance of outrunning you.

Effortlessly, you leaped off your rock and caught him, spinning him around as he flailed wildly in your grasp. The sight of a grown man squealing, gasping, and thrashing, all while being held firmly by a small girl like you, was nothing short of comical. Hilarious, even.

“You scream like a little girl,” you teased.

“And you… talk like a… human?” Soobin panted.

Both of you froze for a moment, confusion hanging in the air. Soobin’s fear of the water momentarily evaporated, replaced by sheer bewilderment.

“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How else am I supposed to lure people to their deaths if I can’t talk?”

“With your voice? I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting a conversation with my would-be killer!” Soobin exclaimed. His eyes widened as he tried to take a step back. “Wait, are you going to eat me?”

You tilted your head, intrigued by the nervous boy standing before you. “You know what?” you said, grinning. “You’re pretty cute. I’m keeping you.”

“In a cage?” Soobin stammered, his face pale. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “I have friends… and a loving family… and hopes and dreams!”

Your grin widened as you pulled him closer, letting your sharp teeth flash in front of his face. He flailed helplessly, his long limbs flopping like a fish trying to escape.

“I still have my whole life ahead of me!” he cried desperately. “I haven’t even lost my virginity yet!” His voice cracked dramatically at the end, making you burst into laughter.

The sound of your laughter was so magnificent, so mesmerizing, that Soobin momentarily forgot the peril he was in. He could die right now and he would've still been grateful that he was even able to hear a sound as awe-inspiring as your voice.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, finally catching your breath. “I wasn’t going to keep you in a cage, dumbass. I meant I was going to keep you alive.”

“Oh.” Soobin blinked, relief washing over his face as he clutched his chest. “Oh, thank God.”

I wouldn’t have minded if she ate me out, though, Soobin thought before his brain betrayed him.

Pervert, his inner voice snapped. You’re literally admitting you’re into vore.

She‘s stunning! How the hell am I supposed to react?!

Simp.

“Look, I need to go,” you interrupted his spiraling thoughts, gripping his collar tightly. “I’m hungry, and I need to find something to eat. Don’t you dare tell anyone about me,” you hissed, your voice dangerously low. “Understood?”

“U-Understood!” Soobin nodded so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. “I’ll keep this a secret! I swear on my life!”

“Good.”

You let go of him with a small smile, turning to leave. But before you could disappear back into the water, his voice stopped you.

“Wait!”

You paused, glancing back.

“W-Will we see each other again?” His voice was shaky but sincere.

The question caught you off guard. Why would he even want to see you again? You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you dove back into the sea, vanishing without another word.

By the time your conversation ended, the sun had set, leaving the water inky black. Yet as Soobin trudged back to shore, he strangely felt no fear, knowing that you were somewhere there in the sea with him.

Soobin didn’t visit the shore for an entire week, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it during every free moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same—lingering just beneath the surface, wishing he’d come back as you (obviously) couldn’t go on land. Neither of you fully understood why, but the urge to see the other again gnawed at you both.

Soobin found himself daydreaming about your unexpected kindness, while you pondered why you’d decided to spare him. What made him so special? Was it his wimpy demeanor that screamed harmlessness? Or was it the way his eyes sparkled with hope when he asked if you’d meet again?

Eventually, impatience got the better of you. One evening, as the sun painted the horizon gold, you swam closer to the shore, letting your tail breach the water’s surface in a playful display. It didn’t take long for Soobin to spot the shimmering movement. His heart leapt as he immediately ran to his shop to arrange a bouquet for you.

In his rush, he grabbed every flower in sight but quickly panicked. What if she doesn’t even like flowers? He wanted to give you something while not being overwhelming. As he darted around the shop, his eyes landed on a cluster of daisies in the corner.

Perfect.

He plucked the liveliest daisy from the bunch and bolted down to the beach, barely noticing the seawater soaking his clothes and shoes. Seeing you perched near the waves, watching the sunset, made every step worth it.

You turned at the sound of his approach but stayed still, so Soobin decided to take the initiative. It was only his second time seeing you, but he already felt like the main character running in slow motion towards his lover with the sunset in the background. He bravely marched towards you and put on his rizz face, combing his hair back thinking to himself that he was the hot shit—

He tripped on a stray rock and fell down face first.

The water was barely up to his waist, but he was already drowning.

And you were at the side, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh as you looked on, but it was no use. Watching this grown man nearly dying in water he could easily stand in, all while trying to recover his “cool” facade, was too much. You took pity on him a minute after, helping him stand upright again. He coughed and sputtered, pounding his chest to expel the last of the water, all while avoiding your gaze out of sheer shame.

When he finally composed himself, he smoothed his hair back again, as if nothing had happened. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the shallows. “Let’s sit for a while.”

You stared at him, absolutely baffled by his ability to act like the most humiliating moment of his life hadn’t just occurred, but you followed him anyway.

“I brought something for you,” he said when you both settled down.

He presented an object you didn’t recognize. His eyes were signaling for you to take it, so you clasped it as gently as you could and tilted your head in curiosity.

“What's this?”

“A flower.”

“A flounder?”

“No, a flower.”

“… Flower,” you said slowly, rolling the unfamiliar word over your tongue as if savoring it. Despite your long life, you’d never encountered a flower before. You turned it this way and that, marveling at its delicate form, though you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.

And so without any hesitation, you bit off a few petals.

Soobin’s eyes widened, and he stuttered, trying to form words. But the shock of what he just witnessed left him speechless.

You spat the petals out immediately, your face twisting in disgust. “Tastes like shit.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it,” Soobin said, his voice high with disbelief.

“I wasn’t?” Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed.

“No! You’re only supposed to smell it… or look at it.”

“Oh.”

A long, awkward silence fell between you as you both stared at what remained of the poor daisy. The chewed petals, now flaccid from the seawater, floated pitifully between you.

Soobin cleared his throat, desperate to break the tension. “There are, uh, lots of different flowers,” he said, grasping for a distraction. “Each one has its own meaning.”

“What does this one mean?” you asked, holding up the mangled stem.

“This flower is called a daisy. It represents purity and innocence, but in some parts of the world, it also means…” He trailed off, his ears burning bright red.

“It means?” you prompted, curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

“First love,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“Oh.” You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “I wonder what that feels like.”

Soobin blinked, turning to you in surprise. “You’ve never fallen in love before?”

You shook your head, and for some reason, his heart sank. Did that mean you’d never felt the thrill of butterflies in your stomach? Could creatures like you even feel love, or had you simply chosen solitude?

The thought of either option made Soobin’s chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“It looked pretty though,” you said, your voice soft with regret. “At least before I massacred it.”

A surge of excitement rushed through him at the thought of you liking his gift, even if it didn’t survive. Soobin straightened up, eager to offer something more. “I own a flower shop nearby. I can get you another one if you like it.”

You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I can’t keep it or it’ll just wilt in the ocean.” You gestured at the petals you had spat out as an example.

“I can always give you another one when you come back. That way, you can keep it for as long as possible.”

Your eyes lit up, and the childlike innocence in them made Soobin’s heart skip a beat. “You’d do that for me?”

Soobin felt his chest tighten as he gazed into your eyes.

Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but I think I’d do anything for you.

But he never says those words out loud. Instead, he swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside, and nodded. “Of course. It’s easy to do.”

“Thank you.”

Soobin hated eye contact, but he couldn’t look away as you smiled at him.

She’s actually kinda cute… As long as you cover those nasty-ass teeth, he thought.

“So, you’re not gonna eat me?” he joked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“No,” you replied, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’ll have to kill you.”

Soobin froze, his heart racing. He scanned the area frantically, trying to find an escape route, but before he could make a move, you poked him lightly.

The sudden contact sent him tumbling backwards into the water. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse pounding before a surge of defiance took over him. With unexpected force, he splashed seawater at you in an attempt to defend himself.

For a breathless moment, you both locked eyes across the shimmering divide of water, as he finally realized you had been messing with him all along.

And slowly, the tension between you two ebbed away, like the tide retreating from the shore.

The two of you didn’t cross paths again for another week. It wasn’t because of busyness, but rather a mutual shyness that kept you apart. Both of you, silently wanting to see each other, but unsure of how to make the first move.

One evening, as Soobin and Beomgyu were closing up the shop, Soobin suddenly spoke up.

“Gyu,” Soobin said, stuffing some of the shop’s things into his bag. “Do you think sirens exist?”

Beomgyu looked up in confusion. “You mean the ones in the water?”

“Yeah.”

Beomgyu chuckled. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. You should get out more. You know, touch some grass, hug a tree… Maybe get a girlfriend instead of staying locked in your room playing League.” He slapped Soobin on the back with a grin.

Soobin was taken aback, his thoughts momentarily clouded. “You’ll never know. The ocean is so deep, we haven’t even—” His words trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you waving at him from the shore.

He quickly turned to Beomgyu. “You can leave early. I’ll close up by myself.”

Beomgyu whined but was quickly pushed out of the shop, still protesting as Soobin hurried to get ready.

Is she crazy? How does she expect her existence to be kept a secret if she just exposes herself like that? Soobin thought, his heart racing as he jogged down to the shore, making sure no one else was around. The sun bathed you in a golden glow, casting a halo around your figure that made you look like a goddess from another realm. The sight left him breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty you radiated.

He took a deep breath and, gathering all his courage, sat down beside you.

You blushed slightly at the sight of him, then grinned. “Since you gave me a flower last time, I thought I’d give you a fish.”

Soobin’s eyes widened in curiosity.

What is she giving me? Alaskan salmon? Bluefin tuna? King crab? Glass eel?

Before he could make sense of it, he screamed as you tossed a clownfish onto a rock.

“Ahh! What did you do to poor Nemo?!” Soobin exclaimed, staring at the poor fish flapping around in distress.

“Nemo? I thought people called it a clownfish,” you said, a bit puzzled.

The fish struggled for a few moments, then went still. You tossed the dead fish back into the sea as Soobin gaped, unable to process the absurdity of the situation. You shrugged, unbothered. “It’ll be eaten up by the other fish anyway.”

Soobin stared at the fish carcass as it sank, feeling a strange sense of disbelief.

“So why did you call it Nemo?” you asked, turning to him.

He blinked, then explained the plot of Finding Nemo to you. You listened with amusement, teasing him when you realized how absurd it was to name a fish “Nemo” when it wasn’t even alive anymore. “But you’re right, though. It kinda looks like him. And you too. Flapping around like you did when we first met,” you teased.

Soobin flushed at the memory. He had acted like a complete fool when you caught him earlier.

The conversation eventually turned more serious as the hours passed by. You told Soobin about how sirens were often poached by hunters for their scales, and how, because of that, sirens despised humans with all their hearts. Soobin listened quietly, realizing how much history you had with humans—tragic, unfair, and full of pain.

In return, Soobin tried to explain concepts like capitalism, cars, the alphabet—but every time he saw your brow furrow in confusion, he would quickly switch back to discussing flowers to simplify things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much information.

It felt so easy with you, even when the topics were strange. With each exchange, he found himself more captivated, not just by your otherworldly beauty, but by the unexpected connection that was growing between you.

You two never stopped learning about each other’s worlds. One lazy afternoon, Soobin showed up at the shore with a determined look on his face and a giant bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.

“Supplies,” he said cryptically, dropping the bag onto the sand with a loud thud.

“…Supplies for what?”

“I’m teaching you how to play volleyball!”

You blinked, completely thrown off. “What the hell is volleyball?”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you had just personally insulted him. “You don’t know volleyball? What do you sirens even do all day?”

“Um… not throw things at each other for fun?” you retorted.

“Well, you’re missing out,” he said, pulling out a battered volleyball and a makeshift net. “Today’s your lucky day. Coach Soobin is here to teach you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Coach Soobin? You can barely walk without tripping over yourself.”

“Rude,” he said, as he struggled to set up the net between two rocks. The net was lopsided and sagging by the time he finished, but he stood back proudly like it was a masterpiece. “Okay, we’re ready.”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “And how am I supposed to play this… whatever-ball game? I don’t even have legs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” he said confidently. Then, with absolutely no warning, he chucked the volleyball straight at you.

It smacked into your face with a loud thwack.

You sat there in stunned silence, the ball floating beside you, while Soobin froze, his eyes wide with horror.

“…Did you just throw that at my face?” you asked slowly, your voice dangerously calm.

“I-I didn’t mean to! I thought you’d catch it!” he stammered, backing away.

“With what, Soobin? My fins?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, looking genuinely apologetic now.

You stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the volleyball and hurled it back at him with all the strength you could muster. It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled backward, landing flat on his back in the sand.

“Ow!” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”

“You deserved worse,” you said, smirking. “Maybe I should summon a shark to help me ‘practice.’”

“Please don’t,” he begged, sitting up and brushing sand out of his hair.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic he looked, sprawled in the sand like a defeated crab. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Hopelessly charming,” he said with a weak grin.

“You’re lucky I don’t drag you into the ocean and leave you there.”

“You won’t,” he said, grinning wider now. “Because deep down, you like spending time with me.”

You rolled your eyes but deep inside you knew you couldn’t deny it. “You’re ridiculous, Soobin.”

“Well… yes, but at least I’m good at volleyball,” he said, puffing out his chest like he hadn’t just been floored by your throw.

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, ‘Coach Soobin.’ Teach me your stupid game. But if you hit me in the face again, I’m turning you into shark bait.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, grabbing the ball and grinning like a kid who had just won a prize.

That day was a disaster. He tripped over the net, fell into the water at least three times, and nearly knocked himself out with his own serve. But by the end of it, both of you were laughing so hard that your sides hurt, and for a little while, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

The next few times Soobin made his way down to the shore, he didn’t expect the feeling of nervous anticipation that gripped him. It had become a habit now, sneaking out after closing the shop, eager to see you again, with each meeting always full of new surprises.

But today, you weren’t at your usual spot.

He waited, heart pounding as the minutes stretched by. He almost thought of leaving, convinced something must have happened, when a soft voice called out to him.

“Soobin.”

He turned, and there you were, sitting by the rocks just beyond the shore, your eyes gleaming with something that felt almost… mysterious. You held out your hand to him, a gesture that tugged at his curiosity.

“Follow me,” you said, voice quiet, yet full of something more. Something deeper.

Soobin hesitated for a brief moment, wondering what you had in mind, but without another thought, he waded in after you. You held his hand as you led him past the usual spots—past the rocks he’d become so familiar with, past the small grove of trees he thought he knew so well. Your movements were graceful, as though you were the ocean itself, and Soobin followed closely behind, his heart racing in anticipation.

After what felt like a while, you stopped, signaling for him to come closer. He reached you as you glided toward a narrow passage between the cliffs, the rocks towering high above you. It was easy to miss this path unless you knew where to look, and Soobin realized with a sudden breath of awe that he had discovered something truly secret—a sanctuary only you knew.

The narrow passage led to a cove, a secluded little inlet surrounded by jagged rocks, where the ocean stretched out in front of them. The water here was a soft, transparent blue, and the rocks lining the shore were smooth, almost sculpted. The scene before him felt like a dream, a hidden paradise where only you and the ocean seemed to exist.

“Soobin, this place is special,” you said softly as you sat down on one of the smooth rocks. “I come here when I need to think, when I want to be alone. But…” You hesitated before looking at him, your expression unreadable. “I wanted to share it with you.”

Soobin felt a mix of awe and gratitude flood through him. To him, this was more than just a secret spot; it was a part of you, a side of you that you were finally allowing him to see. He sat beside you on the smooth rocks, the weight of the gesture not lost on him. The silence was peaceful, comforting, like this space was made just for the two of you.

From that day on, Soobin made it a point to visit the cove every evening after closing the shop. At first, it was only once a week, then twice. But it quickly became a routine, and before long, it was every day. He couldn’t stay away. The cove had become his place too—a place where you two could be yourselves without any of the outside world’s noise. Each day, the moments you shared there grew more special, more intimate. Everyday, he’d give you a new kind of flower to take home. You’d splash water at each other, tell stories, and laugh at the little things. Sometimes, you’d sit together in silence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, the world seemingly stopping around you.

As the days passed, Soobin found himself growing more attached to you than he ever expected. It started as curiosity, wondering about the siren who had captured his attention, but now… now it was something more. Something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore.

And then, one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and purples, Soobin found himself sitting beside you in the cove, his heart pounding, his hand just a little too close to yours. The routine, the bond—everything had led him to this moment. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He turned to you, his throat tight with nerves, and finally, he spoke the words he had been holding onto for so long.

Part 2

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt x reader #choi soobin #choi soobin x reader #soobin #soobin x reader

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