#it's strange that every case happened near the water

[lunameimei]

water

[p0orbaby]

rich!reader headcanon (1)

-

You never drink the same coffee twice. Even though you love consistency in your life—your tailored trousers, your immaculate villa—you can’t stand ordering the same drink two days in a row. You’ll walk into different cafés, seeking out new blends, new roasts. Alexia teases you for it, says it’s the only thing unpredictable about you, but you know it’s not true. You just like the idea of a little chaos, as long as it’s controlled.

You hate the sound of notifications, the constant buzzing of texts and emails. It grates on your nerves, pulling you out of whatever silent reverie you’ve crafted around yourself. But you always make an exception for Alexia. Her messages never annoy you, not the way others do. When her name lights up your screen, it feels like a secret just for you.

Alexia keeps her side of the bed messy. It’s one of the few things she’s careless about. She throws her sweatpants and training tops in a heap at the foot of the bed, her phone charger tangled in the sheets, and you can’t stand it. But you never say anything because that mess is the only place where you let disorder exist, a little rebellion in an otherwise perfect world.

You hate shopping in person, hate the way stores smell like artificial fragrances and overpriced leather. You prefer your clothes delivered, hand-picked by a stylist who already knows your size, your preferences, your taste for understated but luxurious fabrics. Alexia, though? She loves a casual Saturday browsing the high street, insists on dragging you along because, as she says, "you need fresh air too." And you go, not because you want to, but because she asks.

You have a thing for watches—vintage, rare, impossibly expensive watches that you never wear but keep locked in a glass case in your office. Alexia doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why you’d spend that kind of money on something you don’t use, but she humours you. You notice the way she glances at them sometimes, the subtle curiosity, but she never asks. She knows better.

Alexia talks to the dog in a soft voice you never hear her use anywhere else. She coos at her, scratches behind her ears, whispers things you can’t quite make out. It’s ridiculous, really. But every time you watch her, you feel a pang of something in your chest—a vulnerability you can’t name. You’ll never admit it, but you like that voice. You like that it’s just for her.

You both have a ritual for post-match nights. She’ll come home late, tired but wired, and you’ll have the bath ready—candles, salts, the works. You’ll sit on the edge while she soaks, both of you quiet, the steam rising between you. She’ll talk about the game in pieces, not a full breakdown, just fragments—an assist here, a near-miss there. You listen, nod, run your fingers through her wet hair, but you’re not thinking about football. You’re thinking about how fragile she seems in these moments, how raw and human.

You have a strange obsession with time, not in the sense that you’re late or punctual, but in how you think about it. You’ll find yourself staring at the second hand of a clock, watching it tick forward, knowing that with each movement, something irreversible is happening. Alexia doesn’t understand it; she’s always been rooted in the present, never one to dwell on what’s passing by. But you? You can’t stop thinking about it. Time slipping through your fingers like water.

You both have different tastes in music. Alexia loves Spanish pop, the kind of upbeat, catchy tunes that make her feel connected to her roots, while you prefer something darker, moodier—Radiohead, Portishead, maybe some obscure techno Alexia pretends not to hate. When you’re in the car together, you let her pick the music. It makes her happy, and that’s all that matters.

You have a secret habit of organising her trophies. Every time she’s away, you’ll find yourself standing in front of her trophy cabinet, straightening her awards, aligning her medals in perfect symmetry. It’s ridiculous, you know. She’d laugh if she knew. But something about seeing those tangible signs of her success, perfectly arranged, calms you. Makes you feel like, for once, everything is exactly where it should be.

[your-nanas-house]

That stupid thong

◇ Pairing: Dad's Best Friend!Cillian Murphy X Best friend's daughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, masturbation, drinking, mention of pee (not in a kinky way), pub bathroom (male), Dad's Best friend x best friend's daughter dynamic, thongs, bit dark (?)

◇ Summary: Cillian has a night out with his friends but meets Y/n in the same pub.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Part of the "Au/series" My Dad's Friend. "Part 1 here".

The place was full, people were coming in and out of the place, screams and laughter adding to the noisy atmosphere of the pub.

Cillian didn't fit in it that much due to his personality but that didn't stop him from going, just to enjoy a Guiness beer on tap. Fresh alcoholic drink that always managed to keep him on a good mood since it was a perfect excuses to meet friends.

It was the first time he went out on his own since his best friend's daughter went to stay to him for the summer. The first weeks were spent arranging and explaining things since it had been ages since the last time she visited Ireland.

Cillian didn't want to leave her alone, as his most protective part as a parent came out every time she did something that 'grown ups' did. Understandable since the responsibility of his 'kiddo' was on his shoulders and having no particular experience with freshly off age girls he struggled a bit, hesitating in every move.

The cold drink was refreshing as it went down his throat, the music was loud but not uncomfortable with the noises of the tv. There weren't many people but it was bit crowded, not enough to not recognize everyone in there, though.

As Cillian continued his evening with friends, chatting and laughing while enjoying beers after beers, something caught his attention. With the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar colour that made him turn around to check further... just to see Y/n with a boy taking a seat at a table near a corner of the pub.

It felt strange someway, seeing her dolled up for what looked like a date when he still remembered her sweet chubby face and princess dresses as their tea dates. 'Guess they became beer-dates over time', Cillian wondered while gulping down his beer again.

She was wearing a short skirt with a nice pattern that matched the color of the long-sleeved shirt she had on, one that delined her breasts perfectly making them seem rounder than when she just had a bra on. The actor could tell.

As his light blue eyes kept wondering back to her his left hand remained on the cold glass and the other subconsciously rubbed the fabric of the thong he had still in his pocket. He didn't do it on purpose, he was in a rush and just put on the first pants he had seen, finding just in the car the thong he had stolen.

"Will you excuse me a second?" Cillian murmured out, standing up from the stool to start approaching the spot where she was, ignoring the reasonable thoughts that kept popping in his head telling him to leave them have their date but after the beers he had, the alchol was dominating his mind.

"Kiddo? What are you doing here, you didn't mention a date" his low voice declared, his eyes scanning the Irish boy that was sitting next to her before meeting the embarassed gaze of his best friend's daughter

"Well it was a last minute thing and I was bored at home so.... yeah" she replied with a shy smile, hoping not to be in trouble for the choice of the pub or anything else but luckily one of Cillian's friends waved him over calling him just in time before he could ask further questions.... at her or worse at her date.

The rest of the night went smoothly, the older actor stayed to enjoy old times with his friends as he kept a close eye on Y/n just in case she needed something or anything happened.

Not a close eye enough, though, since towards the end of the evening he couldn't see them anymore so he called it a night and searched a cab while heading to the bathroom of the local.

It was a small bathroom, with two water-closet and some urinals close to the door.

The older man's hand reached for the door when a noise caught his attention, more like a voice that cursed under their breath making him recognize immediately who it was but not yet where from.

The bathroom was empty or so it seemed... except from one of the water-closet which had the door locked. The door didn't touched the ground allowing anyone to see the feet of who was inside— allowing Cillian to see who was inside. Allowing him to understand what was going on inside.

A thud of a back hitting the wooden door caught him by surprise, startling a moment before he made his way to the urinals with silent steps. Y/n's voice could be heard faintly as the young woman moaned softly out, nearly covering the sounds of the heavy breathing of the boy she was with.

Cillian could easily imagine the activity they were doing if he closed his eyes while unconsciously unzipping his pants. She was probably pressed against the door, her legs wrapped around the hips of the boy, her chest maybe bare since the corset was being pulled down to expose her young breasts for the male's eyes.

Feck, the actor thought as he glanced down at his now free cock which was hard thanks to his thoughts and the sweet noises, and didn't allow him to do exactly what he had gone to the bathroom for or at least not with some effort.

He stayed silent in the same room, listening carefully, enjoying a bit too much his best friend's daughter's noises and the new addictions of the act like the thuds of the thrusts, the wet noises coming probably from her wet cunt, plus the heavy breathing that matched his.

If the older man had had a mind less blinded by alcohol he would surely have stopped his hand which was now wrapped around his cock, stroking it in hard but slow motions, following the rhytm of the thrusts he could hear.

The wet noises filled his head as he spit in his hand and continuing where he left, checking slightly the door while masturbaring at the sounds, his eyes glued to the wood till he saw Y/n's thong fall on the dirty ground of the bathroom. Almost as a reminder of the thong he still had in his pocket and that wad screaming at him to take it and use it however he liked it.

His peak was getting closer and closer as he automatically reached for the fabric, wrapping it fast around his cock never stopping his quick wrist movements that made his body shake as soon as he came, biting down his lip and shooting his cum in the urinal.

It took me some minutes to recover from his peak and as soon as he was back to his sense completely, his hands tucked himself back in, moving the thong back in his pocket before leaving quickly the bathroom to head out of the pub.

On the way out Cillian could finally clear his mind, the fresh hair blowing straight to his face as if to wake him up by his dizziness and clear up his mind, as pity slowly started to crawl in him.

"Fuck" he murmured under his breath, inhaling deeply to calm down as he rested a moment against a wall to allow his body to relax till the cab arrival.

It didn't took Y/n very long to exit the place as well and look around to see if she could still see Cillian anywhere or if he had already headed back home before her. But there he was, facing a wall about to pee after all the drinks he had and since he never had the chance to do it earlier.

"Uncle Cilly—" she murmured, pulling him casually in a more private place, covering for him as some paparazzi tried to catch some scandal to put in newspaper and spread all over the world

"We should head back home, hm?" Her voice whispered out, glancing slightly at him before turning her back quickly to search the cab discretely.

[astr0n0va1]

𝐌𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 - 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐬 - 𝟐

Previous parts Teaser Pt.1

I'm sorry about the wait and from now on ill post one or two parts a week. I had a really busy week and this chapter takes things a little slow but next chapter will be really good. Thank you for reading, liking, and reblogging. Enjoy <3 - Astr0n0va 2,207 words

The next morning you woke up feeling certain things. You hadn’t even fully woken up and you started thinking about Armando and the events of last night. As your mind created thoughts and fantasies with him you started to lead your hand down your waistband and past your panties. But then there was a knock at your door. You retrieved your hand and groaned before getting up.

You opened the door to find Kelly standing there with a toasted bagel topped with cream cheese and a cup of Orange juice.

“Morning Y/n do you have anything to tell me?” She asked, holding out your breakfast. 

But as you went for it she pulled it back before you could reach it. You looked at her and she raised her eyebrows telling you to tell her. You took a peak in the hallway making sure Armando wasn’t anywhere near. Then you fully opened the door and let her in.

“Fine, come in.” You said before shutting the door.

She handed you your breakfast and as you started eating she started talking.

“ Well, I don’t know I found it strange that when I woke up at like 11 at night to get some water I made my way to the kitchen but you weren’t there. So I thought she must be in her room, but when I checked you weren’t in there either. So where were you missy?” She asked before stealing a bite of your bagel.

“First of all I thought this was my breakfast, and you can’t tell anybody but I was washing dishes and Armando offered to help and we started building something. Then I was giving him the house tour and I was showing him the garage and he asked if he could bring his bike in, and I was like yeah. Then we kind of went on a little late-night ride. After that, we come back and obviously, I’m thanking him and he’s like anytime princess.” You explained.

When Kelly heard the last sentence her eyes went wide.

“ I didn’t think of him to be a little sweet talker.” She said while changing positions to get a better view of you.

“But that’s not all because then it was like 12 or 1 in the morning and I felt a little thirsty. So I make my way downstairs to get a water bottle and find him shirtless in some pajama pants also looking for water. So then I’m asking him what he’s doing up and all that. Ok so he ended up putting the water case in the fridge, and then as I’m walking upstairs he’s behind me. And then I’m like good night Armando, and he’s like a goodnight princess. When I tell you my heart was down to my ass at that very moment I mean it.” You before taking a drink of your orange juice, as the storytelling of your night made you thirsty.

“So are you going to fuck him?” Kelly asked shamelessly.

“When you say it like that it makes me sound like a slut.” You said while getting up to pick out your outfit for today.

“Oh I’m sorry do you plan to make love with him Y/n?” She said while putting quotation marks around making love.

“Thank you, but I don’t know. He works with me. It's not like I can have sex with him and then see him every other day and act like nothing happened. So I’m not sure what I’m doing with him yet.” You said while pulling out a bikini from your mini suitcase.

“Ok just be careful whatever you do. I don’t want to see you get hurt, especially by him.” She said while coming closer and looking at the clothes you had picked out.

“See now this is what I am talking about you need to show off your body more. It's a shame that you hide it underneath all those baggy tees and sweatpants.” She said while peaking through your bag.

“Okay Kelly message received, but about what I just told you please don’t tell anyone.” You said begging her.

“ I won’t trust me. But as of right now, you need to get ready so we can fucking go.” She said before placing a slap on your ass.

“owwwww Now I’m going to get you back for that bitch.” You said to her before she grabbed your cup and started to walk out of the room.

“ oh come on you know you like it princess.” She says trying to mock Armando.

You grab a pillow and quickly throw it at the door but she closes it before it can make contact.

After you showered you put on your red 2 piece bikini and threw on a pair of jean shorts and a crop top. You put your hair in a claw clip, apply your lotions, oils, and perfume, and then slip into your sandals and make your way downstairs.

On the couch sat Rafe, Dorn, and Armando on their phones. But as soon as you went to turn around Kelly was right coming down.

“Can we take your car Y/n?” Asked Kelly.

“Yeah, sure. But how many Jet skis did you rent?”

“I think 3.” She said while grabbing your keys.

“But there’s 5 of us.” You said questioning her choice.

“Yeah me and Dorn on one, Rafe on one, and it was supposed to be you and Rita on one but since she’s not here your choices are Armando or Rafe.” She said with a smirk.

“Ride with me Y/n.” Said Rafe with a wink.

“Rafe I value my life and my safety so no, I’m not riding with you.” You said while turning to him with a smile.

“Then you are riding with Armando.” Said Dorn, sending you a smirk from across the room.

“Are you okay with that Armando?” You asked him.

“Yeah.” He said with a nod.

“Okay then everyone grabs your stuff and we are leaving in Y/n’s car,” Kelly said while turning off some lights and walking into the garage.

You went and locked the back doors and the front door. This made you the last one in the car. When you got there you noticed Dorn in the driver seat and Kelly as the passenger, this left you to ride in between Armando and Rafe.

>>> skip to the beach

You and Kelly rented a locker to put your stuff in. And as you finished putting your purse and valuables in there you noticed Kelly taking off her clothes revealing her swimsuit.

“Why’d you take your clothes off now?” You asked her.

“Why wouldn’t you take them off now?” She asked while taking off her shoes and placing them in the locker.

You took the message and took off your shorts and your crop top leaving you in your red two-piece. You slid your shoes off and grabbed your glasses before walking out to the rental shack with her.

The guys eventually came and you all divided into your pairs. Then as you got your life vest you looked over to your assigned Jet ski and saw Armando waiting for you. He wore some black swim trunks leaving his toned chest out, and around his neck 2 layered gold chains. As you made your way over he kept his eyes on you as you walked towards him.

“Do you want to drive it first or do you want me to?” He asked.

“You can drive it because I don’t know how to.” You replied.

He then proceeded to get on and then you got on behind him. As he took off you re-adjusted yourself bringing yourself closer to him.

“You can’t put your arms around me I don’t bite.” He said with a small chuckle.

You looped your arms around him and as he took off speeding up you leaned your head on his back holding on to him firmly. After a few swerves and 10-15 minutes of riding Armando convinced you to try to drive it.

“You sure. I don’t want to flip us or anything.” You said while he got off and waited for you to scoot up.

“We will be fine, princess let’s go. I got you if anything.” He said while hopping in behind you.

You put your hands on the 2 handlebars and as soon as you are about to start applying pressure you feel Armando’s body come into contact with you, and his hands go over yours guiding the jet-ski.

Due to his body being bigger his hand just covered yours and helped you guide, and steer the Jet Ski in the right direction.

His scent was strong even though the smell of saltwater should have faded. You saw Keely and Dorn and steered their way with the help of Armando. Before you noticed Rafe was also coming in.

“Y/n how about a little race?” Asked Kelly.

“I don’t know I’m not…” you were cut off by Armando.

“To where?” Asked Armando.

“Rafe, go out,” Kelly said.

After that Rafe steered out about 1/4 mile out.

“What the fuck?” You said while looking back at Armando.

“It’s okay princess we got this just trust me.” He said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed hard and just looked forward again.

“So are we on 1/4 mile?” Asked Kelly.

“We’re on,” Armando replied.

“Alright then when Rafe gives the signal we go.” She said, adjusting herself as Dorn let out a nervous laugh.

“Guys it’s just a friendly race, don't forget that,” Dorn said trying to lower the competitiveness between Armando and Kelly.

“Yes please don’t forget.” You added.

Kelly and he brushed off you and Dorn’s comments and kept their focus on Rafe waiting for him to give the signal. When he did Armando applied pressure onto your hand making the jet ski go faster, this made you sink back into him the farther y’all got. 

Dorn and Kelly were a bit behind you guys but slowly catching up, so Armando decided to swerve the Jetski to get more water on them. So they would slow down and lose. 

But on the last swerve to get back into the side you were both originally on he ended up applying too much force. This caused the Jetski to flip.

Everything happened so fast that you didn’t realize when your body hit the water. The only thing you could acknowledge was that Armando had his arms around you. 

He pulled you up, helping you stay afloat and stay above water before he made his way to the Jetski and flipped back over trying to help you get on. He helped you push yourself up and back to the seat, and then he used his upper body strength to pull himself up. 

“You guys okay?” Says Dorn.

“I would have felt better if we would have won.” You replied.

“You almost drowned and you worried about winning.” Says Rafe while checking his phone.

“No first off my life vest saved me and Armando made sure I wasn’t underwater for a long time.” You said trying to make the situation better.

“Whatever, we have to go, we have to get ready for tonight. And we also have to eat.” Kelly said.

“Yeah, fine let’s go,” Rafe said before putting his phone in the seat compartment and steering off. Then Kelly and Dorn followed.

“Do you still want me to drive back to shore?” Armando asked you. You could feel some of the guilt through his words. 

“Yeah, so we should probably switch,” you said while trying to stand up and keep the Jetski balanced.

You both switched seats, sending him to the front and riding on the back. You wrapped your arms around him and he started steering to the shore. I decided to break the silence.

“Armando.” You said hoping he would respond. 

“Hmm?” He said, keeping his gaze to the front. 

“ You know it’s not your fault it happens to most of us it's ok.” You said as he slowed down as y’all came close to the shore. 

He still wouldn’t look at you or look your way. You got off of the jet ski and took off your life vest. He did the same while not looking at you. 

“Armando, can you take this back for me?” You asked, trying to force some type of interaction.

He nodded and you passed it to him and then grabbed his hand. He was now looking you in the eyes.

“Thank you for saving me out there.” You said. And then placed a small kiss near the corner of his mouth. 

You then walked off back to the locker to get your stuff, and Kelly eventually joined you.

“I saw what you did out there.” She said nudging you. 

“Yeah like you said I have to get out of my comfort zone a little bit more.” You replied with a small smile.

“Fuck, I think when we get to the house I’m taking a nap and then I’m going to get ready for the club,” Kelly said exhaustedly.

“Same because I just know it’s going to be a long night.”

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Taglist: @cardi-bre91, @believeinthefireflies95, @blackgirlmagicforever , @bootlegroach , @mentalidrainedfangirl , @lotusunique, @thesizzler , @marissa53115 , @yeahnohoneybye

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[thegnomelord]

I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.

If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!

Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol

CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.

You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.

He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.

And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)

That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.

He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.

But with you. . .

You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.

And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.

Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.

"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.

Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.

You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.

You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.

He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.

He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.

He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.

He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.

You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.

"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."

You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.

"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.

"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.

He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.

You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"

[pixiesholloworld]

He likes my writing ᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: your favorite thing to do when toji isnt home is to write smut of the two of you under the guise of other people, but what will he do when he finds out about it?...

things were definitely different when you were ovulating. acne, tender and easily overstimulated breasts, every part of your body that shouldn’t be swollen or aching was. though the bright side of this was being able to write your absolute best. being able to describe every word that was happening to ‘y/n’ brought a certain satisfaction to you that money couldn’t buy. not only was writing fun for you during this heightened period it was also a release for you being that your boyfriend, toji was out and about.

he was into illicit activities but it kept the lights on so you didn’t bother asking or complaining too much. he’d be gone for long periods of time and you knew he’d rip your clothes right off and tear you apart the second he stepped through the doorway, so at times you wrote in excess so you could at least upload regularly. once your spark was gone it was gone so leaving time to build up your sex drive and passion again wasn’t too terrible for you.

though tonight was different, you missed him so much you could barely think straight writing down the filthiest things that came to mind until you couldn’t type anymore, you needed a break and bad. you push yourself away from the desk feeling the chair roll you away from all your hard work, you turn and leave to the bathroom stripping off your clothes and overly soaked panties simply casting them aside as you start the shower water. you turn to the mirror putting your hair in a bun before stepping into the shower, closing the see-through glass panel and letting the hot water wash all over you.

now would be the perfect time to touch yourself but as you look down at your soaked hands you realize nothing could fill you up the way toji does. you shake the thought from your head grabbing your towel and get to work, you watch the soapy suds fall from your body towards the drain and suddenly get the strange feeling that someone’s watching you. you look towards the cracked doorway but can’t seem to make anyone out, be it the fog or dark eerie hallway, you reduce it to you being paranoid. worst case scenario…. well let’s not think about worst case scenarios actually.

you let the water wash all over you and once you see that not a single soapy sud is remaining you stop the water and hurry to the doorway walking down the hall and flip the switch on yet there’s nothing there. you let out a relieved sigh, it was just your imagination after all! you go back to the bathroom where you dry off and lubricate yourself slipping on one of toji’s old shirts before returning to your room.

you open the door to see toji manspreading on the edge of the bed his dark eyes looking at you full of lust. he had his phone out and seemed like he was in a trace until he looked up at you, “hey princess” his voice is deeper than usual and he smells like outside, “missed me?”. you suppose it wasn’t your imagination after all, observing his bulge as he creeps up to you, he was definitely the ‘someone’ watching you shower, though it kind of turned you on how much of a perv he was.

he placed his hands on your waist and pulled your small frame close to him, his hands roaming around your body and sniffing your neck, he plants a kiss near the end of your jaw before his lips make its way up to your ear, “this my shirt?” he asks as if he doesn’t know the answer, “it looks nice on you” he sinks again, burying rough kisses into your neck. you return the favor, hands grazing his hard chest and looking up at him, 100% ready to be used by him. “missed you toji”, you breathed wrapping your arms around him into a hug, “can you fuck me please?”

he chuckles, “look at you, usin’ your manners n all” his hand snakes its way to your face, admiring you while brushing his thumb across your cheek, planting a rough kiss onto your lips, you can taste a hint of mint as he slips his cold tounge around your mouth. his hand makes its way under your shirt and he squeezes your ass, his lips trailing their way from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, down to your neck. the warm air sending tingles down your spine. you’re completely in the moment until you turn your head to see that your computers still open.

“w-wait” you lightly pushing him off and he lets go, toji wasn’t very expressive but you knew he wanted to know why you stopped. “i need to save my work first”, your hands lightly graze his chiseled chest as if to say goodbye before walking over to your computer. “mmm, you started writing again?” he asks, making his way to the bed and lying back against the bed frame. “kinda” you answer, you make your way back to him and lie against his chest, he wraps his arms around you and kisses behind your ear.

“can i read it?”. your heart nearly freezes over, toji knew that you wrote but he mainly read your poems or your think pieces, not smut. you honestly didn’t even know how he would take it, a part of you was a bit embarrassed. “i don’t think so toji” you said while rubbing his arms, “aren’t you kinda tired anyways?”

“’m never too tired for you, pretty girl”. he always knew just what to say to get you going, “ok but promise not to laugh”, you turn to look at him pinky finger extended towards him. he smiled and wraps his around yours, kissing your pinky. “now show me” he demanded, you reluctantly grab your phone as you feel him pulling apart your legs. the tips of his fingers run along the insides of your thighs, causing your body to tense up and your stomach to flutter. you open AO3 and titles start rolling by: ‘brat taming’, ‘mating press’, ‘doggy-style’. he slowly moves his right hand to your clothed core, barely grazing by your clit at an unbelievably slow pace until he sees a title that catches his eye: ‘fingering’.

“read that one”, you tap on it and audibly gulp, “d-do i have to?… out loud?”. he gives you a sly smirk and huffs at your pouting bringing his face down to your ear, “don’t act all shy now, ya weren’t shy when you wrote it”, his low husky voice sent shivers down your spine. you clear your throat, feeling your face heat up and your throat dry. “h-he starts slow, moving your p-panties to the side.”

his movements match that of what you’re reading, “go on” he urges. the heat of his hand pressed against you like a warm cloth, “his index and ring split your puffs apart to reveal your marble, his middle finger starts slow at your s-slit before he lightly massages it in c-circles”. by this point your face was burning and your legs were shaking, you so desperately wanted to give into toji was giving you but you caught onto what he was doing. “this is stupid” you mumble

“hm? i didn’t catch that princess” he says while sneaking two digits into your heat, “the next line is: his fingers sink in and out and in and out”. shattered breaths escape your mouth, your nails sinking deep into toji’s pant leg, “i didn’t say stop readin’” he purred, his left hand pushing apart your quaking thighs, it took you a minute while you frantically looked for the line toji skipped to. “h-he curls his fingers, hitting your - my god toji”, he was making it impossible for you to finish your sentences, his fingers moved in deep, strong, strokes.

you look down and see your slick building up at the ends of his fingers, the palm of his hand kissing your clit as he picks up the pace. you can hear yourself squelching and making an absolute mess all over him, so much so you haven’t even realized he’s started reading again. you only realize when his left hand reaches for your neck, forcing you to look up at him causing a whine to escape your throat. the split on his mouth stretching as he smiles at you, “yeah? you like that?” he coos, “want me’t keep going?”.

you nod with a pleading look in your eyes, you wanted so much more than this. “say it”, his fingers plunged faster and deeper knowing full well that the end was near. “please” you choke out, “hm? use y’er fuckin’ words slut” he grunted, by this point your entire body was a broken, twitchy mess the second you try to say anything more than please your legs seize as your chest reaches forward, you could feel every nerve in your body responding to toji’s touch and it didn’t help that his eyes were burning right through yours. he held you down, thrusting deeper until you reached your release, intently watching as you pathetically rut up against his hand.

as you climb down from your high toji brings your attention to the soaked mattress underneath you. “messy girl” he teases as his hand steals away your phone, his soaked fingers lightly strumming against your slit. “what else goes on in that nasty little mind?”, he bends his head down to your neck and starts sucking on the skin staining it with purple marks while his hand makes its way to your back, signaling you to press your face down and lift your ass up.

you can hear toji unsheathing his dick before he teases your warmth with his tip, bending his head down to your ear and hands you your phone, “now read this one”

[heartfullofleeches]

Hopping Ship

Yan Rival Restaurant Mascot + G.N Reader + Yan Restaurant Entities

Slow day....

Right in the middle of lunch hour too-

Scarce to see the restaurant so empty like this nowadays. After starting the new shift, you genuinely began to ponder if you'd finally lost your hearing due to the one-sided shouting matches from customers before realizing there had been a single since you clocked in and the silence surrounding you was very much real.

With so much free time, you finally got around to completing some tasks you'd be putting on the back burner for a while and a few you picked up while the janitor was out on personal business. They were gone every other week of the month, but you stopped wondering where they went after seeing them crawl into a black van one night after closing shit. It's impolite to watch coworkers who appear to be wearing your missing coat drag trash bags into unmarked vehicles after midnight.

You swept the floors, decorated the back office with some of the flowers the mascot left you and read a couple of their letters, created a sign out for the bathroom succubus to please at least put a towel beneath the door when she went on of her many "mandatory smoke breaks", and other duties which staked your claim as the establishment's most valued, living employee - all accommodating in the treat you rewarded yourself with once your break rolled around.

Sitted at the back of the fridge, behind the cooler you kept your gifted deer kidneys from the crying figure in the woods - a single fruit cup shined in all its syrupy glory. You tended to avoid eating coworkers food until their names appeared in the papers, but this little delight was stapled with a friendly letter for whoever came across it.

"For you~ (yes, the one reading this)"

That in itself should've been warning enough, but you were too hungry to care and not really in the mood for greasy fast food or ice cream from a bastard ghost. It was the perfect snack. Tiered with fruits representing all colors of the rainbow separated by rich, fluffy cream you assumed to be whipped frosting or some type of yogurt.

Snagging the cup and a spoon from the dispensery, you head back to the front to eat just in case anyone shows up. First bite in and you immediately notice something off about what you've just willingly ingested. What should've a sweet, succulent strawberry tasted exactly like strawberry cheesecake. The creaminess of its taste compared to its snappy texture threw you off entirely. You nibbled on an apple slice which tasted just like pie. Not exactly what you were going for, but you needed something on your stomach. Mindlessly chewing away, a faint hiss comes from beneath the counter.

"Psssst."

Must be another gas leak.

"Y/n - down here!"

You almost wish it had.

Peering underneath, you make contact with the frantic eyes of a former coworker. His face was caked in mud and his lips cracked from the clear signs of dehydration. You grab a cup of water from the soda machine which he near inhales, plastic and all. You take your seat back at the counter, poking around at your cup. "Hey, Noah. What happened to you last we I thought you the storyteller told you to go get lost in the forest and get eaten by bears."

"I was a boyscout growing up and all the predator animals in this area are dead. Get down - it'll see you!"

"What will?"

He tugs on your sleeve. "The rabbit thing that's been throwing everyone into that van! It's right outside!"

"Mm?"

Sucking a cube of peach cobbler off your spoon - you you peer outsife where another mascot stood - gloved hand extended a with flyer to the customer approaching the the door. The anthropomorphic rabbit was dressed in a red and white hybrid of a nurse gown and a 50s waitress outfit down to the pastel skates it wore on its large feet.. When the customer ignores the paper and went out of their way to walk around the strange figure, the creature dropped the flyer as it clasped its hand around their neck and hurls them into the open van beside it. Slamming the door on their ankle - the rabbit suddenly bends backwards with an audible crack facing the register as its ears dangle at its feet, waving at you with its Cheshire grin. You chase a grape around the container with your spoon.

"They seem friendly."

Noah pulls harder on your clothes. "Quiet! We need to call the police."

"Mmm... nah, they never respond to any of our calls anyway."

He groans into his hands. "Ughh- Ojay, we'll figure something out - just, don't make look that thing in the eye.

Bit too late for that.

The rabbit mascot had scaled the restaurant floor in about the same time it too you to swallow the bland frosting that served as a palate cleaner for the tooth rotting sweetness. It contorts to match your height, button nose inches from yours.

"Hello, hello, he-llo - where have you been hiding?~ I was looking for you. "

".... Hey, Noah? Can you actually try the police to see if they'll show up this time?"

The rabbit chuckles. "Funny too. I knew you were a catch from the second I laid eyes on you. That's why I had to make sure our first meeting was special and there were no..." Its eyes fall to the counter." prying eyes... Anywho! Did you enjoy the fruits I left for you?"

You shrug, mouth full of sugary melon. "I guess."

"Fantastic! Those at my establishment prioritize a healthy, and tasty lifestyle. I certainly hope you don't mind us treading on your territory, but it was the only spot in town fit for our dream. If all things go according to plan, you won't have to worry about the competition at all! Onto my big question - would you care to join our team? An experienced crewmate like yourself is just what we need and if you start this afternoon - I'll even make you manager! Even deal, wouldn't you say?"

"....not really."

"Great!-...." Its ears fall flat against its skill. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I kinda like it here. Bring manager sounds like I'd have to do more work than I do now, and the the ball pit is a big factor to why I stay.

Soft clapping sounds from the play area. Confused, he mascot looks between your face and your half eaten cup. "Are you sure?"

You shrug again. "Pretty sure I am."

"Maybe take another bite and think about it harder?"

LYou shove the remaining bits of fruit in your mouth, using the time to chew as your grace period. "Positive."

"I see...." The rabbit's whiskers twitch as it snaps back to full height, spinning on their wheels towards the door. "No matter. I will be back for you another day with an offer you won't be able to refuse. Until then."

You look at the floor as they skate away. "I think it's leaving, Noah.... Noah?"

"Help me!"

You glance back up in time to see Noah being dragged outside and flung into the van as his captor grumbles something about just using sleeping pills next time. You official cross him off the schedule as you throw the cup away.

"If they'd just offer me their skates - I probably would've said yes."

You lick the spoon clsan as the ice cream machine whirls to life.

"Cheater!"

"Oh shut up."

[glassrowboat]

I'll Be Your Oxygen; I'll Be Your Home. Baizhu.

Summary: A single day can take your entire life and spin it off course, sending a ship steering one way an entire new direction all from a storm, or in this case, a chance run in wirh a mermaid. For you, what took this day off course was a single hook embedded in your tail, and from there, everything spiraled.

Author's note: This was supposed to be for mermay, but we all see how well that worked out so fuck it. Just enjoy.

Hey fuckers (Risse says lovingly) come here. @sunderingstars @auphelia @runawaymun

Word count: 14, 600+

A hook.

Glimmering in the sun's rays that reached under the water, like a gentle hand, to caress along your black and orange scales. Peaking past the surface, you hid yourself under to cast the metallic insult alight.

Shimmering.

It's funny how something that could appear so beautiful was the same cause for your bleeding. Wisps of red muddying the silver hue that was unabashedly pierced through your fin. Swirling around you as it danced in the water before getting swept up in the tide.

Many back home had taken to decorating themselves, to adorning their bodies with jewelry that fell from the islands above, seaweed, and even pink pearls. Strings of those shiny lusters had been a common sight for you once upon a time, seeing them every time another had swam past. You were no exception to indulging, either, letting them cover you as you smiled at the sight.

The thing is, you didn't exactly do this intentionally, not this time. Not while you were in foreign waters, ones that soaked into your gills in a way that still took you some time to get used to.

The salt had a way of numbing your tongue.

The taste was intrusive, always there even as your head rose out of the water earlier that day. Overhead chatter has you turning your gaze up to marvel at the harbor you chose to linger near.

Landmarks always proved to be handy now that you were lacking the tower that was so tall it might as well have loomed over everything.

Your ears popped, making it all the easier to listen to the gossip about the world above those two-legged creatures seemed so fond of. (Humans, you had learned they were called). Deals being struck all in the name of contracts and the jingle of those shiny coins they seemed to like sharing between each other as you peeked through the gaps of the wooden planks separating you from them. Footfalls occasionally have you pull back to hide behind one of the many beams that were lacquered over in some sort of substance that had you washing your webbed hands off.

Curiosity has led you here again and again.

At first, it was because of strange items, ones you've never seen the likes of before suddenly showing up in the sands of the reef you resided in. Half buried by the time you clawed them out of their newfound grave. Then it happened again. Another bewitching artifact that seemed to sing to you to keep it safe.

Plastic bags, a decorative mask, a handle of some sort, and fishnets all landing on what might as well be your front doorstep. Tangled in the bright corals.

Item after item that got carried in the currents you followed back to this place of barnacle covered wood, loud noises, and giant gates that seemed to welcome anyone in. Even you as you slinked around under the city.

One that apparently dropped shiny gold coins between the planks of the boardwalk. You couldn't help but dive after them just for the chance to stare at the trifecta with awe. The sounds of a person cursing above for daring to let the glittering rain fall from their hand drowned out as soon as you ducked below the water.

That's when your fin got trapped in something.

Trying to fight it only seemed to make you more wrapped up in its embrace. Tugging, trying to swim away as something pierced your fin. Not even your huff of fury scared it off as you jerked until the water was disturbed, a splash above you.

That was all you needed to flee. Ducking

between the floating devices resting on the surface. Some with scratches right along the bottom that were clear proof they had once upon a time been in the tides. Hulls most likely scraped up by the jagged rocks off to the island barely even a few miles away from the harbor. A fact that seemed to encourage a certain human with a standout personality (yes, that was a nice way to put it) into ice bridging his way across.

Which is how you had ended up here, hissing every time you poked at the wound in a futile attempt to yank the hook out.

Warm sand would usually be a comfort as you simply laid atop the grainy texture and soaked in the sounds of waves crashing against land now feeling invasive. It stuck to you in the worst of ways, grains covering your wound like it was a patch rather than something that only made this situation all the worse as you tried to brush it away to no avail. If anything, it seemed to only make it worse.

“Oceans below,” you muttered as the scuttering of crabs filled your ears. Had you really been here that long even they had started to simply accept your presence despite being notorious scaredy cats? The sound of scuttering behind you is unwelcome. Unwarranted, even as you stared at the mess you found yourself on.

Maybe curiosity was a bad thing.

Actually, the sound was a little too loud for some crabs, no matter how many there might be. That fact alone had you tensing up, shoulders locking into a tight posture as you looked behind you.

Head snapping back to see green hair that bristled slightly in the wind and eyes the same color as a golden koi trapped behind some glass contraption on this man's face. Your fins couldn't help but twitch at the sight, aching for the comfort of those creatures that would swim around you in circles, especially when you registered the odd creature wrapped around his neck.

A human stood before you.

A human has spotted you.

“Miss, are you alright?” He called out. Talking to you. You, rather than others of his kind as they walk about on land. No distance to be had between you two to simply observe him, wasting away hours with wide eyes as you try and soak in every detail to the point your gills would itch in irritation. Screaming at you to return back to where you belong.

The chance to watch from afar as you preferred ripped out from under you.

Your tail was burning as the salt water licked at your wounds, but it wasn't enough to keep you from trying to dive back in. The silver hook only dug into your skin further as your tail smacked against the rocks in your haste to escape. The faint plea of “wait, I can help” cut off the moment the waves welcomed you back like a smile belonging to someone once again getting the chance to see their lover.

The water is cold even in the spring.

That ache proved to be persistent. The hook ripped out of you in a haste to get rid of it even after fighting with your own head about whether or not it was a good idea. Clammy, shaking hands letting go of it the moment you were free as that color once again continued to muddy the space around you as you slinked into the corals below. Schools of fish that were gathered around your shelter quickly dispersed every which way as your shadow passed over them.

It hurt.

It stung.

Seafoam clung to the corners of your eyes as you wished you had stayed that moment longer before running away. Risked listening to possible false claims of wanting to help. At least then you wouldn't flinch and bite back a cry every time you shifted in place. Your own body had decided it didn't deserve the rest it craved as a night without sleep awaited you.

Hours passed in silence as you watched the glow of your tail flick along the cave, casting shapes that proved to be your only company.

You only risked peeking out past the walls of your shelter as the others in the reef awoke. A sweet-flower medaka moving past you without a care in the world, swimming close to the surface for its morning meal. Mouth already agape as a bug danced on the surface.

It was a sight you turned away from as you swam. You hadn't even decided as to where yet, but your tail moved as your mind debated over possibly cutting some leaves of seaweed to wrap around the injury. Other such methods you were familiar with weren't as viable here, the environment far too different from the one you knew better than the back of your hand. So you returned to what you knew: a sandy shore.

Something you're still questioning yourself over as you bite back as you break past the surface. Eyes just barely rise from the water to keep yourself from being seen.

Every now and then, a wave would wash over you as you gawked. Ogling the metal container left right where you had been sitting before.

That wasn't there last time. You knew it wasn't. You weren't that distracted to fail to notice something so obvious, something you would usually collect as a treasure from the curious human beings, even if the algae haired man had caught your attention so abruptly.

So, you picked the tin up in your hands. A small square box full of what seemed to be human food, if the smell was anything to go by. The same scents and spices you caught from the harbor that got caught on the wind. A welcome reprieve from salt, salt, and more salt filling your nose.

The paper that was previously laying underneath the tin almost got caught up in the same wind before you snatched it. Symbols covering the sheet you couldn't quite make out no matter how much you squinted at the messy handwriting. Not that it would help, anyway, not when you lacked the ability to actually make out the words on paper. So you let it go with a huff. Let it drift like those ‘proof of exchange’ that you often found to have fallen atop the surface of the water that would slowly consume it. Break it apart until there was nothing left.

A click and another as your nails tapped a slow pattern against the tin as you pulled away the ribbon on top, along with the foil covering it. Something white and fluffy you've never seen before packing it full. The only familiar sight being seaweed wrapped around these…triangles?

Foreign, but the thought it was edible quickly filled your mind.

The fact someone simply left it here without a single sign of anyone around only a faint deterrent from escaping back home with it. Tin and all. One you later found proved to be the perfect basket for all your tiny knick knacks of shiny golden coins, a tear dropped shaped wooden object with a metallic tip at the end, and an array of seashells.

Some of which you picked out, choosing some of your favorites you later placed right where the imprint of the tin still lay in the sand.

A thank you for the soggy treat. After all, it was better than having to try and snatch fruit off of the low hanging branches that touched the water.

A trend that continued on for three more days.

A new little container for storage, a new bow (one that no matter how many times you tried to replicate, failed to make just as pristine and perfect), and something stashed inside that proved to be something you could stuff down your throat.

An arrangement that proved to be far more convenient than having to try and snatch fruit off of the low hanging branches that lingered over the water. Less chance of being seen that way as constantly finding yourself needing to duck away whenever that large vessel with the paper lanterns setting it aglow passed overhead.

It always reminded you of home as it shone bright in the middle of the dark hour, making you want to sink your nails into the vessel's décor you couldn't help but liken to flowing fins. To cling onto it to give you purchase even if it only leads to catching the whispers shared above, but alas, even you could recognize that wouldn't be a bright idea.

So, you went to the shore again.

The same habit you've grown accustomed to in these few short days. A new schedule has emerged, breaking the one you had before of swimming just that bit further past the reef into the uncharted. Everyday daring to go somewhere new only to turn back again as the sun fell from the heaven to kiss the waters.

A tin was there, just as expected. Set neatly in place as you have come to expect.

You were already busy placing an odd drum like contraption with beads attached by two strings down. The ‘shadows’ payment for the day. Something you found right below the docks in your search for new treasures.

A small patter sounded as you placed it down in the sand, not minding as it hit against the grains as your eyes caught the sight of footprints. Usually, the tide would have washed those away by the time you came here, but today? There were clear signs of shoes having treaded through the area.

“She seems a little dumb. She's failed to notice us yet.” A shrill feminine voice called out, one that had you scanning the area around you to find the source only to land on the same man with those odd glasses before his eyes.

The one who claimed to want to help.

The footprints that lay before you leading all the water up to him as he stood only a few feet away from you, his shoes implanted right where the grass started, and the terrain below changed into dirt.

He was too close for comfort.

Too close for you not to have notice. Yet here you are again. Twice in the span of such a short time, you had been shocked by this man, taken aback by his presence.

Were your senses truly getting so dull you could easily be snuck up on?

You wanted to snap at the both of them. Warn them to back off. Both him and the odd creature wrapped around his neck, but before you could even curl your lips back into a scowl, he held his hands up in surrender.

A gesture that was barely enough to placate you.

“Is your tail feeling any better?” He asked, hands still high in the air despite the small twitch of his long fingers. “I noticed you were injured last time we met.”

Your tail splashed in the water at his words, droplets kicking up and falling back down like your own personal rain shower as they fell along your back.

“I suppose that means I should take that as a no.” It was obvious he was scrutinizing you, just as you were him taking in every detail of the other in the midst of the tense air. “Miss, I'm a healer. If you would care to let me, I can help you.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to tell him you're fine, only to be cut short as a croak left you. Voice broken to the point even you couldn't tell what was being said despite it being your own words. Too long has passed since you talked to anyone but yourself after venturing away from your own kind to need to use it to flex the muscle for it to be truly usable. After all, you could only entertain yourself for so long before you learned it was just easier to let your thoughts bounce around in your mind rather than on your tongue.

Yet, it seems he understood what you wanted to say as he nodded.

“I know you have no idea who I am, but we can start with something simple. I'm Baizhu,” One of his hands moved down ever so slowly, like he was making sure not to trigger your instinct to run (err, swim) away again as he brought it down to the white creature resting on his shoulders, “and this is Changsheng.”

Two names you could swear rang some sort of bell in your head, but still, you stayed as you were. Even as your own name was muttered under your breath, not truly wanting either of them to hear it despite bothering to share.

Unfortunately, it seemed the scaled one did as she repeated it back to you.

“That's a lovely name.” Baizhu said. His eyes constantly on you even as a pout crossed your features.

The day wasn't supposed to go like this. No, you were supposed to get something to stuff between your cheeks until they were aching from the stretch as you treated yourself like a chipmunk, leave something in exchange, duck around the corals, and maybe even harass a few fish between your fits of boredom as they swim away from you, kicking up a storm of bubbles.

“I have something for you,” he called out, trying to get your attention back on him without risking shuffling closer. “A balm of sorts. It took a while to find the proper ingredients, seeing as I needed something that would last well underwater and would work on your…”

His eyes moved to your tail for a moment before moving back to your face. “More unique qualities.”

“Medicine,” the ‘Changsheng’ said. “This one spent hours combing over books to find the right solution of ingredients.”

“Well, it's important to attend to everything I could in assurance that this would help her. I have never had such a patient before, so it only stands to reason I should be cautious.”

“Medicine?” You repeated after her, partially ignoring Baizhu's rambling. Trying to say it the same way she did proved to be awkward on your tongue, unable to copy the natural hiss to her voice.

The assurance of “it is” was quickly accompanied by the offer of a small item in his hand. A small cylinder of sorts that was covered in a label. You've encountered those before. Cursed as they peeled and tore in all the wrong ways as you tried to pick them off. Still, you didn't tell it. Not quite yet.

“You were the one leaving the food, weren't you?”

The creature tilted its head at you, watching you for a moment before asking “did you seriously eat something thinking it was coming from a random stranger?”

“Now, now, Changsheng.” Baizhu chided, hand moving up to brush along her scales. “She's simply...a little unaware of the world.”

Well, that certainly felt like an insult.

Baizhu had an easygoing smile as he carefully unwrapped her from around him, much akin to the scarfs you'd see in the colder months. When the water would freeze your skin and you'd be covered in white flakes that fell from the sky whenever you dared to leave your natural environment.

Is that what she was, a scarf?

He muttered: “Give us a moment, why don't you” as he held her up to the branches of a nearby tree. Her little scarf body wrapped around the bough and hiding between the yellow leaves that covered her so well you could almost convince yourself she wasn't there at all.

That is, if she didn't make a remark that was basically along the lines of “make sure the fish doesn't bite you.”

Baizhu apparently had no issue waving her words off as he took a step towards you. The sound of dirt crunching wasn't what graced your ears this time. No, rather, he was trying to cross the divide. To step those few feet closer to you. Sand shuffling as it's kicked up, that's the sound that greeted you.

“I'd rather you stay over there.” The way the words came out as more than a question than a statement had you both raising a brow. One aimed at you, and, well, the other aimed at you by you.

“I promise I merely want to confirm to myself you're alright, miss. If you would be kind enough to give me five minutes.” As Baizhu spoke, he urged your eyes to fall on the item in his hand. “It's nothing dangerous, I can assure you. Simply some sweet flowers, qingxing, mushrooms, and cryo slime condensate to make it a paste.”

“I don't know what any of those things besides the slimes are.” The little creatures that bounced along the edges of the water. At first, they appeared so cute, but you had been a victim once or twice after getting too close and having them direct their hostility towards you. Though, they were nothing compared to the sharp eyed creatures that ripped through the water in search of their latest hunt.

The sand crunched again as he took another step and in turn you slinked back.

“I assure you, I have no intention to harm you. I would be breaking, to me, a very important oath if I did anything other than assist you right now.”

His hand was outstretched towards you, offering the item so freely the feeling this was the bait to his lure couldn't help but gnaw at your mind. Even the pretty items wrapped around his wrists weren't enough to distract you despite the fact that you would long to have them in your collection any other day.

“You promise?”

“If I lied, Changsheng would surely say something. Or can you not tell she's an honest individual?”

Well, Baizhu certainly had a point there, even if his tone was a bit too litted for your liking.

But he did promise with a simple nod of his head.

Without a word, you snatched the cylinder from him hands and swam away. Tail flicking behind you as you dove. The sound of coughing filling the air doing nothing to deter you from fleeing.

Still, like always, you left a thank you behind. Even if it was done in the middle of the night to assure no one could sneak up on you this time. Every little golden coin those humans seemed to value so highly you've found, no thanks to the loose grips of lazy hands and purses in poor condition, stacked up on top of each other in the sand.

That night had to be the first one you hadn't woken up in the middle of due to pain.

Maybe that's why you returned, half hoping to see Baizhu and half hoping you'd never catch a glimpse of him again. An unlikely event, considering you were staring at him now from behind the rock you were using to hide yourself. Tail, now with your injured fin covered in the salve, brushing along the smooth surface, the waves have dulled down to a rounded edge.

He was resting in the shallows, feet dipped into the water as Baizhu's purple pants were rolled up past his shins.

How did you only just notice how colorful the man's clothing was?

Strangely enough, it reminded you of the hues in the depths you hailed from. The bright blue flowers that would glow just like your tail as evernight flooded the sky, patterns in his clothing that had you longing to see the carved stone of those old buildings falling to ruins, and the water that turned hostile against those that lived there.

Sparks of electricity that bit at your muscles in nothing short of pure irritation ruining the home you once had.

So some went west, some went east, and you went north.

“You're back.”

His eyes flicked up to you, moving from where his feet were digging into the sand that swallowed his limbs with every step. “As are you.”

In the silence, the lack of a buzz of anything between the two of you, you hastily asked where the scarf was. She was missing today, after all, not to mention a small part of you found comfort in the fact there was another scaled creature to talk to. To break the ice. Even if she was…a little sharp tongued.

“Changsheng,” he asked, mirth in his voice. “She's on the tree over there. The one I placed her on before. She always complains about the water anytime she gets wet, so I thought it best to leave her be.”

The silence returned. Your eyes stuck on your webbed fingers. Suddenly, something you had all your life proved to be quite the marvel as you stared at the veins through the translucent skin.

“A snake.” He dared to break the tension. Speaking over the waves. “She's known as a snake, if you were wondering.”

“I see.” You said after a moment of hesitance, unsure of what you were supposed to say to something so simple.

You couldn't help but chew on your lip for a moment, hoping you could swallow something down and regurgitate words that hopefully turned out to be a sentence. A half-baked question on your tongue as Baizhu spoke. Both of you cutting the other off.

“I'm sorry.” Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Baizhu gestured towards you. “Please, go first. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“What are you doing here?”

"One can only work so long when your own employees are insisting you take a break. Not to mention Changsheng trying to slip her tail under my glasses to slide them off certainly helped to encourage me out the door.”

“Glasses?”

Those must be the things on his face then. The thin golden wire pinched between your fingers as you pulled them off of him. A sigh immediately fell from Baizhu's lips as he looked down at you, holding them up to your own eyes, mimicking the way he used them even as they made your vision blurry. Almost like seafoam was creasing into the corners of your eyes again as you squint to see anything as more than just random blobs of color.

“Can you… return those? Baizhu asked, a waver to his voice like he was afraid the wrong tone would frighten you off again. "And not do that again?”

He didn't snatch them from you, not the same way you did him as Baizhu pinched the frames. His fingers brushed against your cheek as he took your newfound, and rather confounding, treasure back. “I need those to see, miss.”

“Oh…I…don't see how they do, but okay.”

“You seem to have a habit of collecting whatever catches your eye. From everything to tassels to rattle drums. Qiqi, one of my- well, a child I care for, seemed to enjoy playing with it for a time.”

“I found most of my keepsakes under the harbor.” You admitted.

You've spent what had to have been days by now lingering around the boardwalk and concrete platforms, eyes searching about the area and you ruffled through bits of trash, plant life, and piles of seaweed that crashed against any rock they could catch on. Waves rocking them back and forth and to be taken away to go float somewhere else before your search was even up.

“Then you are the reason the children have been whispering that old tale again. It has been some time since I heard it.” After Baizhu finished cleaning his glasses off of the water droplets, he slipped them back on. “It was enough to bring back some old memories.”

“Whispers?” You asked, head cocking to the side.

“You're not as subtle as you might think you are, miss. I do suggest being a bit more careful about who catches sight of your tail during your treasure hunts.”

“So I do have to be careful of humans then?” You asked despite the fact that talking still hurt.

Still made your throat wish to swipe back at you with clawed hands to simply allow it some rest, but this question was important. You lacked experience with their kind, with this land. You might as well be going in blind at this rate despite having eyes adapted to the dark.

“You wouldn't be the oddest sight in Liyue, not when we have the illustrious Adepti serving the land, but it never hurts to be cautious." Baizhu warned. "One can never be too careful, in both terms of the people around them and our very own selves. That's why it is important to look after our bodies.”

Baizhu certainly sounded like a healer now, chattering about this topic with ease as he mentioned your tail: an example of his point.

“Which is why we ought to take care of it. If you would let me?”

Your lips twisted down. “I somehow feel like I swam right into that one.”

Baizhu's eyes creased as he smiled, little wrinkles forming as he chuckled. “You did, but if you would be so kind as to let me?”

If you can hand anything to this man, it was the simple fact of how persistent he is. Nagging at you over the same thing until you found yourself giving in. Tail still in the water, flicking every now and again in protest as his hand slid over the scales all the way down to the injured fin.

You were tempted to pull back, to find a conch shell to scream into so it may too know what it's like to hear the depths of the ocean, but you merely sat there taking in a shaky breath as he whispered in what had to be the sweetest voice you've ever heard that he'll treat whatever ails you. All you have to do is ask.

The start of an untimely friendship even if Baizhu was in a coughing fit by the time he was once again out of the waters. Hand covering his mouth. The snake, as you learned she was called, wrapped around his neck as he choked out a simple wish: for you to be careful on your way home.

The noise was one you recognized, having heard it from the masked creatures that roamed on the purple lands, grass crunching under their feet right before falling to their knees. Some would even tumble off cliffs, gracing your home with their presence as they sank lower and lower until you couldn't see even the outline of their bodies anymore.

No one ever bothered to help, so you never learned how.

Making it a sound you never cared for.

He seemed to cover his mouth a lot you had come to notice, carrying a handkerchief around with him and tucking it away as fast as possible even when it was just you, him, and Changsheng. Like there was something to hide even as he told you about how that day went as the people on the docks grew in numbers and started to complain about their work days. Whining about being sweaty, no thanks to the ever increasing beat of the sun as the weeks passed. The second you hear that first “it's been such a long day” you knew it meant you could see your newfound friend again.

Your only friend, really.

Him and the little loudmouth hanging off his shoulders.

She had found herself a hobby of resting on the highest rock she could find as the tide slowly creeped in. Soaking in the stones' warmth until she called out: it was time to go. At least, that's how it usually went. If not, you would be listening to Baizhu excitedly rambling to you about the newest concoction he's working on or listening to pages flip as he sat on the sandy shores and read.

The sun was still peeking out just enough he could catch the words as you looked over his shoulder. Illustrations of plants you had never seen before painting the pages you were too scared to touch in case your water covered hands would smudge the ink.

Baizhu would point at each one, read aloud for you as he explained their purpose and where he would go to find them. Your fins (now healed) brushing along his leg as he spoke. Some he would explain came from his own personal greenhouse, having no other option but to grow them himself if he wanted fresh specimens, others came from Liyue's mountains and oceans of grass, and some he simply had imported over from other nations.

Flaming flowers: helpful for soothing pulled muscles.

Zaytun peaches: a relaxing ingredient that, if the right percentage is used, can be implemented in sleeping pills.

Sweet flowers: they can help make a patient stop complaining too much about how bitter the medicine he makes is.

That had you giggling as Baizhu's brows pinched together, already exasperated just from mentioning the complaints he's gotten.

And sakura blooms: the extract of which is used in vitamin supplements.

Your eyes were glued to the page at the sight. Branches covered in little pink petals that had you leaning over the book just to see them the slightest bit closer.

“I know those.” You muttered, mouth moving faster than your mind.

“Do you now?” Baizhu looked up at you, curiosity swimming in his eyes.

It didn't come to a surprise that piqued his interest, not after the slew of questions you received the day he checked how your tail had been healing. It seemed like every little detail he could think of flew past his lips, wanting to whatever you would be willing to share with him of the place you grew up, if there were others like you, if all mermaids had tails that resembled a dawncatcher medaka or if it was just you.

Even something as mundane as what your diet was.

It had gotten to the point you were debating thwacking him with said tail as his fingers slid over the injury, so gentle with you, you barely even felt the sting of pain as he applied another salve.

Later on, Baizhu confessed that talking so much, asking questions, helps to keep a patient distracted while tending to them; but he was just mainly prying to sate his own inquisitive nature.

But for now, he was nodding as his hand flipped to another page, slipping through this book he called a journal like he knew exactly what every page contained. “I recently received a brand new stock of sakura blooms.”

“I remember looking off into the distance and seeing that tree way on top of the main island, the one with the weird shape to it, before finally saying goodbye to the place that raised me.”

As you spoke you raised your hand up in the air, like you were reaching out for the petals, hoping they would slip from the branches that hugged them tight so you could be blessed with the chance to know what they feel like, what they smell like. Would they be as bittersweet as the mere thought of them was? Would they feel the same as the flowers in Enkanomiya?

You could feel Baizhu's eyes on you, a soft gaze, but his pupils were slitted just like the vishaps. It felt contradictory, somehow, but he pulled it off with ease. “Parting from your home is never easy.”

“Yeah..It..” You couldn't help but shake your head, trying to knock your thoughts free and away just like the droplets of water that had been clinging onto your hair had. “So, sakura blooms?”

“Yes, well..” Baizhu looked down at his journal, staring down at a letter that was now distorted from the droplet. “Many use the petals for teas. From what I hear, it's a popular flavor in Inazuma.”

“Is it any good?”

“Most of the sakura treats are laced with sugar, far from being healthy for dental hygiene. Especially for the children who still pretend to brush their teeth before bed.”

“Baizhu,” Changsheng called out, her tongue flicking in the air, “that's not what she asked.”

“Right. Right. Excuse me,” your name came out of his mouth like a song, better than any of the ones you've picked up being hummed as sailors walked back and forth aboard the ships (as Baizhu had taught you they were called) with boxes full of merchandise. “I'm sure I can make some tea cakes for you. There are surely some substitutions I can use. Applesauce, for example…”

“It'll be like our old deal.”

You had half the mind to bring him some shells in exchange, maybe even bits of coral. It wouldn't matter even if Changsheng called your treasures worthless junk again if he held them close and smiled at you in thanks.

Your scales shivered under his touch as Baizhu's leg brushed against you, fin twitching as he said: “Not quite. I don't have to coax you out of hiding this time.”

“Hey now.” You huffed.

He turned away from your pout, finger sliding back over the journal before him as he pointed at one of the jumbles of scribbles. It was easier that way to hide his smile despite the fact it still showed in his voice. “For now, let's enjoy the day.”

“You mean the blistering heat of the summer.” That did no good for your scales that insisted on drying out under the ever shining sun.

“Now, now, It's important for everyone to simply take a step back from the churn of the every day to appreciate the scenery around them, heat and all. Especially in good company.”

“You're right.” You said, shoulders raising in a shrug. “Changsheng is good company.”

Baizhu didn't always show up. Sometimes, he failed to give you an explanation at all after disappearing on you for days. Leaving you to meander to force time to pass. Hours were spent around the reef trying to bother the fish that had grown so used to your presence that they didn't even stir until you started to chase them around.

You had learned this game from watching a group of boys. Children who caused a ruckus as their feet padded across the streets, running around stalls, adults, and crates that had yet to be unloaded as they played tag. Hands outreached to grab onto each other.

It was better than nagging, or quoting Baizhu's lines about “health comes first” as he looks at you with sunken eyes.

Was it wrong to want to know what was plaguing him so?

At first, he had used this sort of powder to hide the bags under his eyes, but one swipe of your webbed hand, still covered in droplets of water, wiped it away with ease.

Tinges of blue meeting you as he sighed.

Changsheng was the one who finally spoke up as Baizhu took your hand in his own, seeming to be figuring out how to hold it properly. Eyebrows pinched together as he held what he could close.

“It has been a long week. For both of us.” Just as always, Changsheng drew out every ‘S’, letting it punctuate her sentence.

“Yeah? That so?” You asked.

You squeezed his hand back, not minding if it felt uncomfortable as his fingers slipped along the webbing. For him, you could stand the feeling that had shivers running down your spine.

“Indeed, a long week.” Baizhu said, seeming to have found a way he preferred to keep your hand in his.

That day, you two sat in silence. Listened to the waves lapping along the shore, Changsheng's snoring as she drifted off, and the whispers of the wind brushing through his hair.

You had stayed there, just like that, until the gills on your neck were itching. Begging for relief as you splashed into the water. He had told you to be careful of fishing lines on your way back as you resurfaced. A clear dismissal that had you nodding in agreement.

It wasn't your intention to leave, but for some reason he took it that way.

For some reason, you didn't even clear the air. Fix that little miscommunication as you swam away.

Neither of you talked about that day even as the waters grew cold. Leaves falling from branches, flying across your vision with every breeze in a flurry of yellows and oranges, strangely reminiscent of a diveda ray leaping into the air.

The humans had begun to wear scarfs again, choosing to hide away indoors or under layers of clothing, waddling around as they got their daily business done.

A change of season.

And a sweater held out to you.

Baizhu had been insisting you wear one, even if it's only while you're up on the surface as he laid it on your bare shoulders. The soft texture lacked the scent that seemed to linger on his person, but you held it close to you anyway; hugging it around your body just as Changsheng was your neck.

She often complained how you always smelt of sea salt, but she had been the one who moved from Baizhu to you. Something he seemed rather betrayed by in the moment, just not enough so to move away from where you sat. Hip to hip.

“How has work been at the pharmacy?”

“Long.” Changsheng remarked, her nose buried into your neck.

“Well, we were expecting this, at the very least. I even asked Gui to stock up on a few extra herbs for me, but-” Baizhu sighed. A long, drawn-out breath as his head tilted back with a pop. “It's flu season again, meaning lines of patients right outside the door all coughing right onto each other. I had to ask Qiqi to hand out face masks for everyone.”

“Is this where you rant about people not being cautious about spreading their sicknesses again?”

A hiss, and you looked down at Changsheng, who was shaking her little head. “I don't need to hear his lecture again, not when I am sure I can recite it word for word.”

“Come now, surely I can't be that bad.”

At the same time you and Changsheng both said to him “you are.”

Baizhu's lips quirked down, meeting you both with a frown, but before he could say anything, you were already tossing out words you were used to hearing from him the most. Discomfort, symptoms, no need to worry about my cough, exhaustion, and cover your mouth when you sneeze. The only reason you stopped short as you were about to say more was Baizhu's finger brushing the hair sticking to your lips away.

The growing warmth in your cheeks was getting harder to ignore as he leaned closer.

“You forgot prescriptions, pills-”

“And other such hubbub we are well used to.” Changsheng said, unabashedly cutting him off.

It gave you just enough time to pull back, to pretend you were just slipping your arms through the holes of the sweater as the two went back to their playful bickering. Always like mother and son. If not that, maybe Changsheng could take the role of that one aunt you had who purposefully nudged pufferfish in hopes of getting high.

“Then what do you suggest we talk about since this topic is so dreadful?” Baizhu spoke your name, dragging you into the conversation as he claimed you complained the moment he brought up the weather last time.

“I'm allowed to be blasé when talking about the weather of all things.”

What were you supposed to do, get excited every time it rained? That had only been a marvel the first few times as you stared up at the sky, mind trying to comprehend what was happening. The stone ceiling only ever splashed you with droplets, perspiration coating the stalactites until enough water coated the end to fall down. It was nothing like watching the clouds come overhead, gray, almost angry looking, as you had sat there all day atop a rock.

Back then, you couldn't help but wonder if it had meant Morax was crying, just like how the storms of thunder and lightning surrounding Inazuma meant the Shogun was blocking everything out.

“It's boring.” You whined.

“I come and visit you whenever I have the time to spare, not a complaint to be heard after I walk down here knowing you can't visit me, and you still say I'm boring?” Baizhu teased. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses in a way that had you rolling yours.

“Yes.”

“You've gotten cheeky.”

“You've rubbed off on me.”

“Or a certain fish was waiting to show her real personality, so we would keep feeding her.” Changsheng interjected.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You said as she shifted on your shoulders, her pearl like scales brushing along your neck, covering your gills until you pulled her away from them.

In your struggle against the snake (that you still found yourself referring to as a scarf on the rare occasion), Baizhu fixed the sweater as it fell off your shoulder. Tugging it up for you.

“It's quite alright if that's why you're sticking around. At least this way, I know you are getting a well-balanced meal every day.”

“That's not-”

Not true. Not in the slightest.

You found yourself taking his hand, holding it up as you stare at the lines embedded in his palm, at the lack of webbing, at the skin that was smooth to the touch, lacking a single black tipped scale. These days, you found yourself forgetting about that boundary between you two, of mermaid and human, as he teased you, but then came moments like these. Baizhu atop a rock, sitting comfortably in the sun without needing to splash himself with water. It proved to remind you of how different you two really are as you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Like you were trying to force an entire sunsettia into your mouth with only one bite. Grating against your throat.

“Sure, I only stick around because of the food. Makes it easy, you know?" You didn't mean to sound that bitter, but somehow it felt natural to wear poison on your tongue. At least right now, anyway.

Maybe that's why Baizhu always refuses to share why the handkerchief he carries around is stained a muddied red because you and he are two different creatures entirely. A gap you could never hope to fill, seeming to grow bigger, stretching into a chasm, as you glanced up at him.

“It's getting late,” you said, “and I should head back before it gets too dark. I don't need to catch any attention from the local fisherman, you know?”

“Yes, I have heard there is a local legend going around of a glowing fish the fisherman's association says will grant you a wish if you catch it. I thought we told you to be more careful about being spotted.”

You muttered how you'll be sure to keep an eye out from now on, thanking Changsheng for her concern, as you slid the sweater off. Casting it aside in a heap as it landed in the sand. Grains getting caught in the knitted wool before you even managed to splash into the water to return to the reef.

Your black tail stands out like an ink blotch on pure white paper as you duck back into the bright pink and purple plant life.

A fish out of water in the very element that you breathed.

If it were any other day, you might have laughed at the irony, but the idea tasted bitter as the ever encompassing salt you waded through as your fingers dug through piles of trash again. Anything to keep you busy, even if it meant telling yourself to focus on finding treasure, to ignore the way you weren't as ecstatic as you were used to when finding something new.

Lots of something news greeted you as weeks passed. Bright red pouches, kites that had fallen into the water as the breeze robbed them of their right to fly, random shipment boxes that fell off the ships passing you overhead in their haste to take off, and even a lantern that wasn't tied off properly to the stake it had once called home.

There were many lanterns these days, actually. Glowing in the middle of the night, flickering in a way that had you longing to wrap your arms around the bioluminescent fish that you hadn't had the chance to see in months. Even if they flapped about in your arms, desperate for escape, you would refuse to let them go.

As the lanterns shined bright, your hand clasped around the paper dissolving under your touch, wishing, praying that your mind could delude itself long enough you could see the outlines of a formalo ray in the kite.

By the time it fell apart seafoam was clouding your vision.

Blurred outlines of leaves, a bamboo fence only a few feet away from the water you sat in, lily pads, and seaweed like hair all encircling you the same way your arms did the scraps of what once was.

The only thing that shook you out of your reverie was a call of your name. Familiar, but not familiar in the way you craved. It wasn't the voice of your own kind, distorted by water as you laughed with those around you.

“What are you doing here?”

You looked up at Baizhu as his shoes came to a stop before you, shiny gold accents you had burned the image of into your eyes after all the times he slipped them off; dipped his feet into the water, waves making the anklet he wears rise and fall every time they came in as he stood beside you.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, but then I came across this.” His fingers brushed along the sticks that had once held the kite together as he spoke, grazing over the lacquered wood. “And you.”

Slowly, surely, your grip loosened. Your precious treasure falls to the ground only to reveal your hands covered in splinters. You hadn't even noticed the sticks had snapped under your grip when wails had rocked you until now, but Baizhu seemed to notice right away as he looked between you and the pinpricks of blood.

“Is…is this when you lecture me about how I need to disinfect my hands on something?”

“In a moment, dear. For now, won't you come here for me?”

Baizhu's arms were already wide open, waiting for you to fall into them. To let him hold you. An offer you didn't even think to refuse as you tackled him down. Small coughs shook his shoulders as you both fell, but that didn't deter him from whispering in your ear how everything will be okay. How you just need to let it all out.

Nails traced along your back, causing shivers as he found every divet, every scar, every mole the expanse of skin had to offer as you two stayed like that.

The seafoam had long since been wiped from your eyes, but still, Baizhu held you. Hugged you just as tightly as you did him with your tail that found itself wrapped around his leg; refusing to let go.

“Do you want to tell me about what's going on? I have an idea, but…” The way he talked to you had warmth flooding over your skin, easing the goosebumps that had started to appear after his touch.

“No- I-” You stammered.

It reminded you of the tower, the warmth of its light that would flicker on and off, shining so fiercely it pierced through the vale of fog, casting its glow over the pool you found yourself in more often than not. You would peek your head out, water rippling around you, just to watch the purple wisps dance in the air. You never did learn what they were dancing to, but you liked to pretend it was a song only they knew.

“Shh, it's alright. I'm here, even if you can't bring yourself to talk.” He whispered in your ear., voice as soft of the grass under you.

Mumbles of apologies fell from your lips like a waterfall, coursing through you and coming out in waves even as Baizhu assured you it's better to let it out now, that you can always tell him what has made you so distressed later. That he had an idea what's wrong anyway, so there's no need to feel rushed.

You had only pulled away from his embrace to ask what he was doing here, not used to seeing Baizhu anywhere but the little beachside front you always met. Where the sounds of the harbor could be heard, but the mountain blocked the sight of sails as docked ships rocked back and forth.

“I was at Qingce Village helping decorate. Many of the people living there are far too old to be climbing ladders just to hang something up. I fear. However, they will still try despite the doctor's orders.”

“Always nagging.” You teased. Or, at the very least, tried your best to when your voice broke on each word. “I bet the next thing you're going to say is they shouldn't be running around outside so much with weary bones.”

“A perfectly understandable thing to say.”

Your thumb rubbed over the growing crease between Baizhu's eyebrows as they furrowed together. A sight for sore eyes.

“Where have you been?" You inquired. "I haven't seen you at our normal spot for weeks.”

Admittedly, you had only waited for him for a few short minutes before leaving. Your temper suddenly grew thin since the last time you talked to him, leaving an ache in your chest as dark as evernight every time you left the sandy shores behind. Lingering, as you had reasoned with yourself, wouldn't change the outcome.

If Baizhu didn't want to be there he simply wouldn't be.

Apparently, that had been a foolish thought as Baizhu admitted that he had visited when he could. “Rarely, but I tried. I have just been…otherwise occupied.”

His eyes fell to look at the ground, to gaze at the blade of grass you two rested upon, telling you all you needed to know. “Guess you don't know what to say when you don't have Changsheng to cover for you, huh? Where is she, anyway?”

With a scoff you asked: “Now, when did I need someone to cover for me?”

Your jaw almost dropped at the sheer audacity as he tried to pretend everything was alright. Normal even. It caused a warning tone to bubble in your voice as you called his name, though you had to doubt its effectiveness when he's still holding you close and your own voice still is broken from your earlier crying.

You two stared at each other for a moment, your scales grating against his skin, before Baizhu relented.

“Back at the village with Qiqi and her friend, a little girl named Yaoyao. They were learning how to tie good luck knots for the coming New Years. I was on my way to fetch some more string, so I wasn't exactly expecting it to take long.”

“Good. Now was that so hard?”

“Terribly so.” A small smile was on his face, voice too shameless for a man that was supposed to be feeling a little guilty right now, but you let it go as Baizhu asked to see your hands.

As he raised your open palms up, trying to get a better view of them, you couldn't help but think about how if Changsheng was here now she'd be calling you stupid; asking how a creature that's fortunate enough to have limbs, hands, and fingers, would be dumb enough to injure them. And you'd be arguing back with her until Baizhu held you a little tighter and told you to stay still a minute longer.

And of course, you'd oblige.

“So what is a good luck knot?”

“A traditional craft for those of us who hail from Liyue. It is said they can be used to ward off spirits who wish us harm.” As Baizhu spoke, he carefully pulled the splinters from your skin. “I would make them with my master and fellow student, Jiangli, so we could hang them on the eve of Lantern Rite.”

"Forgive me. You most likely don't know what that is either.” He said as Baizhu took in your confused expression.

“Not one bit.” You confirmed with a nod.

“Then…” As the last splinter was pulled out, Baizhu held his hand above your, a faint green light swirling around you both. For a moment, you swore you saw eyes, wise, knowing, a creature that meant no harm swimming around you both before the pinpricks disappeared. “When the festival is…”

The green light cast on him might have been eerie to some, lighting his skin with a sickly tinge, making it all the more obvious just how pale and sunken some of his features were, but to you it was the same glow the depths of the water had always held.

In the dark, with nothing to light your way but random plant life as the tower once again turned off.

“You see, every year during Lantern Rite, there is a custom to set off fireworks every year. There is always a show held, a float built in honor of an illustrious Adepti. This year, if I can properly recall, is-”

It reminded you of home.

“You're rambling again.” You pointed out.

“Right. Right. Excuse me.”

Awkwardly, Baizhu cleared his throat, refusing to make eye contact with you as he watched the spirit vein disappear back into that glowing green gem he always wore on his waist; jade snake charm hanging off of it.

“Dear-”

“And when did you start calling me dear?”

He huffed your name out, punctuating the air with each syllable, but all you could focus on was how his ears were tinted a barely there shade of pink. “If you would be so polite as to stop cutting me off, I would like to speak.”

Your lips pinched together into a thin line as you made that motion you've seen him doing before. Running a hand over your own mouth, twisting the wrist ever so subtly, and tossing an invisible item away like it never meant anything to you in the first place. You never learned exactly what it meant, but you could get the picture after he did it when Changsheng said something he shushed her over.

Baizhu whispered his thanks, telling you he just needed to find the right words between the lull of the wind brushing through the grass.

It was as a little girl's voice, monotone, almost lifeless, filled the air, calling for Baizhu that he finally said: “Would you care to watch the fireworks with me?”

“I couldn't think of anything better.” You said with a smile, even as you could still feel seafoam stinging at your cheeks.

And as a little head of purple hair appeared in the distance, you sunk beneath the waves. A smile on your face as the water poured into your gills, bubbling around you.

Ripples on the surface creating tiny waves, just as they did as you swayed your tail back and forth. Your fins glowed, bright as the moon above, casting an orange glow that rivaled the lantern resting on the boat's seat. Ridges, wood grains, the tiniest of knicks and crannies all to be seen to the naked eye as you hung off the gunwale.

Shining in the water like it was the sky above and you were a lone star dotting its existence as you listened to Baizhu chuckling at another one of Changsheng's complaints about the cold as she wrapped herself even tighter around his neck, the little sweater he knitted her apparently not doing any favors to keep her snug.

“You knew we were going to be out on the water, but you still weren't prepared?” Baizhu asked, fingers brushing over her to pet Changsheng's little head.

“Not all of us scaled creatures are made to handle the cold, unlike someone.” She said with a pointed look your way.

Your gaze lingered on the harbor a minute more before looking back at her. Worry still ebbed at you, at the fact you could see the red constructs covering the boardwalk. The moment they were put up, you had awed over them, curious as ever as you watched the hanging umbrellas the same way one would flowers. Amazed at the array of colors. But Baizhu assured you that if anyone questioned what the light on the water was, they would just think it's a fisherman with a couple lanterns, waiting to release them.

“Hey," you whined, "don't bring me into this.”

“Don't want to be a part of our conversation now, dear?” Baizhu asked.

“Am I supposed to be?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you two going to do this all night?” Changsheng interjected. “Because if so, I should have stayed on land with Qiqi and Yaoyao.”

“Hush you.” He chastised before turning to you. “As for you, what do you think of Lantern Rite so far?”

You couldn't help but sink a bit lower in the water as Baizhu's gaze fell on you, tilting the boat down with you as you moved. You hadn't had his undivided attention since the moment you two were alone outside of Qingce Village. Even days later, when you close your eyes below the water, coral surrounding you, you could feel his fingers tracing along your back.

Ghosts of a touch.

“It's curious. Everyone on land I saw was decorated in these colorful clothes, had bundles of red envelopes in hand, and we're playing some game I couldn't grasp the rules of.”

“Oh? Last year, they had these little paper dolls. Qiqi had spent a good while outside the stall needing the instructions repeated to her before she could finally play.”

“That zombie,” Changsheng groaned, “I bet she wouldn't even remember her head if it wasn't attached to her.”

“What do you think she and that other girl…um Yaoyao, was it?” You asked, and at Baizhu's nod of confirmation, you continued your question. “What do you think those two are up to right now?”

“I can't say I am one hundred percent positive, but maybe they're eating jujube or sharing tales. A madam Ping who lives in the harbor tends to share stories of her long life if she's ever asked. I, myself, have heard one of two of her cherished memories after encountering her at Yujing Terrace.”

Changsheng seemed to mumble something under her breath, nothing you could fully make out, but you caught the words prattle, talk, and predictable old people.

“Stories, eh?” You flicked your tail. “Now that I think about it, you never told me about the tales those children were whispering about when I first started getting spotted around the harbor.”

“You, fish girl, shouldn't have been getting spotted in the first place.”

“Thanks, Changsheng, for your great input.”

Baizhu's hand pat your shoulder, wordlessly asking you to just forgive and forget the snake's sharp tongue. A talent he seemed to excel at. Not like he had much of a choice when she was always wrapped around his neck, but still. “We have time to spare before the show. How about I tell you now?”

With a nod you agreed. Told him “then, please, share with me with your tales of wonder.”

So, he did. Baizhu told you of a popular rendition of the Little Mermaid he apparently grew up with. The main character is a curious mermaid, much like yourself, fascinated with the human to such an extent that she wishes to do more than observe it, but to be a part of it. To regale herself in a world of her choosing all with a human man who had captured her eye. A goal she was only able to accomplish by making a deal with a sea witch that split her tail in two.

You couldn't help but wince at the implications, and Baizhu stopped his story short to ask if you were sure you wanted to hear more. But what's the point of listening if you weren't going to hear the full thing? So, of course, you said yes.

Continuing on from where he left, Baizhu explained how the deal involves the human (aka a prince in this story, for what fairytale would it be without royalty in there with their glittering crowns) having to fall for the mermaid. A task he failed at by turning his gaze to another.

With the loss of her love the mermaid with mutilated body walked towards the shore, agony filling her with every step as she gazed at the waters she once considered home, and turned to seafoam with her thoughts filled with the very man who betrayed her heart.

“That's…” You stared at him with pinched eyebrows, lips curled slightly as you ran the story through your head again and again. “Well, it's certainly nothing like the tales of my own kind I grew up with.”

“No?" His brow raised. "I would love to hear them. Especially seeing as you never told me much about the waters that raised you.”

Now that he mentioned it, you never did answer many of his questions that third run in, opting to glare at Baizhu instead as you did your best to stay on guard. Considering it now, you were overtly hostile to the man, but he wasn't swayed in the least.

Though, that's besides the point.

“Are we just going to brush over the mermaid violence though? It's like you humans are obsessed with tragedy or something.”

Even a storyteller who was roaming about on the docks, tea cup in hand as he talked, seemed fixated on tragic endings. He seemed to revel in them as he acted out the scenes with barely contained excitement. So obvious even you could pick it up with your arms wrapped around wooden pillars to keep yourself from floating off, drifting like a stick in the waves, as you listened in.

“Well, I can't disagree with you there.”

He leaned closer to you, the boat tilting once more, threatening to let some water slip in as he hovered close to you. Nose almost brushing yours. Like this, it was so easy to make out every detail; the scales of Changsheng's body as she called you two disgusting as made her way down Baizhu's arm to wrap herself around the paper lantern, still trying to keep herself warm; his golden, slitted eyes; and the way his lips were curved into a smile.

“Careful,” You found yourself whispering, “we wouldn't want you tipping out of the boat.”

Baizhu found himself repeating the words “that would be unfortunate” to himself a couple times, whispering under his breath, but he was too close for you not to hear. To pick up every intonation, every word soaked in his thick accent you still haven't placed yet, having only heard it from him.

“So, um…”

Before you could say anything else, you heard a loud bang echoing in your ears. It made your head snap to the direction it came from, the harbor alight with sparks of purple raining down. Glittering as each colorful drop fell and dated as if it never existed in the first place.

“I believe the show has begun,” Baizhu whispered to you as he pulled back, moving to the lantern he began to pick up. Gentle hands, careful as always, even with paper, lifted it up just as a plethora of other lanterns filled the sky.

An array of shapes, of wishes whispered to them in hushed tones as hands let go of the paper constructs, trusting them to take care of their dreams as they took flight. Rising into the air as they dotted the sky. Reflecting off the water where you swam under their light, glowing with them.

Baizhu sat in the boat, eyes following you as you watched in wonder even as Changsheng said something in his ear. Right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to pick up the words. Not as, for a hint of a moment, you truly thought this place looked like the depths of Enkanomiya.

The lone star once again in a sea of brilliance.

Baizhu found himself sitting back, letting the snake inch herself back up his arm and around his neck as he watched the mermaid, you, finally looking truly at peace since the first time he met you.

No fear, no hostility, no tears in your eyes. Simply being.

“Are you planning to give the fish girl over there the good luck tassel you made?” He heard Changsheng ask, the hiss in her voice as familiar as breathing despite the fact he suddenly felt short of air.

It wasn't a need to cough that was plaguing him, no need to pull out a handkerchief that always gets stained with blood after a use or two, but the sudden lack of oxygen willing to fill his lungs as you stole it from him.

All from simply looking just so…happy.

“Later.” Baizhu finally found himself telling her. “For now, let's just enjoy the moment.”

That night he found his hand running over the red string in his hands, the knot he made with ease, practiced fingers having pulled each knot into perfection, suddenly made his heart hammer away in his chest.

Changsheng's teasing wouldn't stop, not ever since he said goodbye by pressing a kiss to your cheek right before you dipped back under the water, but somehow he didn't mind even as his ears burned.

He couldn't help but wonder as he stood there with the knot in hand, moonbeams peeking through the windows in a way that had him wishing to see the glow of your tail once again, how selfish could he possibly be as Baizhu confessed how he wanted to be your newfound home.

The thought was only cut short as another cough wracked his body.

Only the moon could know what lay in his heart.

The very moon you were staring up at now as your mind wandered back to the kiss Baizhu had graced you with. So soft, so gentle. It had your hands wading in the waves, just trying to discard the thought enough to cool your heated face.

Somehow the cold water wasn't enough to do the job for you as you dove back to your shelter.

What was with him, anyway, you thought to yourself as your webbed fingers once again picked up that tin he had laid out for you so long ago. It didn't shine now, not like it did in the blinding light that hung in the sky, but it was eye-catching nonetheless.

And it wasn't because it was another treasure in your collection.

“Maybe I can…see him tomorrow.”

There hadn't been any plans to, but surely it wouldn't be too hard to catch his attention. All the clean up from the festival would surely mean the city streets would be filled with a hustle and bustle that would capture your eyes as people groaned about needing to work once more, but that would mean…

It would be risky getting near the surface again, what with those fishing lines, but the idea of peaking your head out long enough to spot the healer on one of his daily walks had you clutching the tin to your chest.

Scales glowing against the scratched metal as you recalled the taste of sakura blossom cakes Baizhu had gifted you weeks ago on your tongue even as salt tainted the subtle tang of flowers.

You found yourself cursing the same salt water as you spit it out of your mouth when you were peaking at the harbor. Eyes watching the ever busy foot traffic as you ducked behind the tall statues that seemed to welcome every ship that came to Liyue. Calling out a silent hello as sailors docked and joined the fray of endless heads looking around the (as Baizhu told you) golden city.

An endless sea of browns, blacks, two heads of blue as you swore one of them almost pushed the other into the water, and lastly a distinct green you could never mistake for someone else.

Not when it was the color of seaweed in the shining light of day.

Plus, a little snake wrapped around the person's neck helped too.

Baizhu.

The boat rocked for a moment, sending ripples along the water as you leaned forward a bit more to get a peak at him, only to dart back just as quickly. Hiding away behind the beams of wood that kept you covered. Well, mostly. Your tail could only hide so well in the shadows even on an otherwise overcast day.

Okay, maybe you were being a bit stalkerish.

Looking up at the sky you took in the gray clouds, like those plastic bags that littered the sea you had fished out time and time again only to throw at a random sailors head after you had gathered enough of them to curl up into a ball. The fact they always cursed after, looking around in confusion, only added to your amusement.

A small smile took over your face at the thought, even as your heart seemed to be grasped between your own webbed fingers. Worry gnawing at the muscle that had served you so well throughout all these years.

Since when did Baizhu make you feel just as- if not more- nervous than spotting the vishaps roaming about in the water back home?

He had just been roaming about the market, those black shoes you had to fish from the ocean (more than once as the waves captured them and dragged them off as high tide came in) beating against the wooden docks you have more experience hiding under than you care to admit, and eyes scanning about the endless stalls. That was normal. You had seen him just like that during all your trips to the harbor as you poked around and filched from stray boats.

Not that you'd ever admit to that last part if asked.

Daring another glance, you looked out from behind the boat, eyes immediately finding your target.

He seemed paler than yesterday, even without the moon casting her gentle glow down on you both. Silver would grace the ocean as her reflection would be cupped between Baizhu's wet hands….but now…

Maybe you should leave.

He always got so defensive when you caught Baizhu looking even the slightest bit off. Especially on that day, you had wiped powder from his skin, and Baizhu's expression screamed for you to not mention how you could see he was falling apart under your grasp. So fragile for a creature made to stand the trails the land had to offer.

You bit back your need to call for him, to try and capture Baizhu’s attention when all it would do was out that a mermaid truly has been lurking in Liyue's waters.

Even as you saw him leaning against a cane in his hand. Clutching onto it with white knuckles. Changsheng clearly said something to him as her mouth moved.

This was wrong.

Something was off.

And you wanted to curse even the black ocean that had birthed you as you turned your back to the sight.

You would see him in a few days on that same beach you two always found yourself at anyway. Baizhu would smile, take your hand in his like your claws didn't bother him at all, and he'd lie about why he hasn't been around, and maybe then you'd have the courage to actually make him answer you when you ask about it.

For now, though, you heard a loud splash as you dove under the water.

Tail flicking as you avoided the fishing lines, just like a spider's web, as their strings collect the dew of a fresh morning.

….

A splash?

You had sworn you were careful, not wanting to risk one of the sailors atop the deck running over to cast their gaze past the helm of the ship to land right on your and your black tail.

Turning around you could swear the salt, the very same ever present feeling that had taken your gills ages to get used to after you had scratched at them for hours each night before finally settling down, suddenly washed away.

It didn't linger on your tongue. It didn't sting your eyes. It didn't even tease at your fins mockingly as you saw a bright green in the water.

Just like algae.

Just like seaweed.

Bubbles erupted from your mouth as his name fell from your lips, voice muffled by the very thing you breathed even as you screamed it.

If this was above the surface, that single word would surely have echoed throughout the mountains that seemed to cage Liyue. A battlement for a nation that seemed to welcome any through the waters you were now cursing as you couldn't seem to swim through them fast enough.

You could still see his hair, that braid you had done and undone time and time again even as Changsheng called your work sloppy, filling your vision.

Floating in the water just like the gray and brown fur of a hilichurl as you and the others all watched it fall from the cliffs up above and slowly sink.

Sink.

Sink.

And sink.

Their mask falling off as the waves wash it away, leaving a grotesque face to be unveiled as everything in their lungs turns to bubbles escaping what you could only assume was their mouths.

At times, you would reach out when no one else was around to witness the scene, and your hand should outstretch just as they were now to grab the mask in curiosity.

Eyes taking in the creature below you as they blinked up at you and you were left without an idea of what to do as it joined the countless corpses that would later become food for the creatures along the ocean floor that feasted on flesh.

Not even the glow of bioluminescent plants had brought light back to their expression as they stopped moving and welcomed the water into their lungs.

Back then you had turned away from them, swam away before another could pass by and ask what you were doing, but now you were stuck with your hand outstretched in pure desperation.

Your fingers wrap around his neck, cradling it as gently as you can even as you swore you caught a glimpse of red dancing in the water before it faded away, joining everything else as you pulled Baizhu close.

And your lips fell on his.

Your last thought was the story you had been told as you breathed water into his lungs.

A little mermaid had fallen for a human. Her eyes always looked at him in wonder and curiosity, for she wished to know all he had to offer. His voice so she may listen to it all day, his hand so she may cradle it in her own, his eyes so she may gaze into them, and lastly: his heart so she may know what it's like to have one that beats with warmth rather than the cold that filled her own veins.

He was everything to her.

A sun that walked on land rather than the clouds above.

He was no angel, but to the mermaid he might as well have been.

She had met him once, and only once, in the midst of the sea as a ship as big as the smallest whale you've seen treaded through the waves. Split the ocean like a knife to fish, with ease. As it did, the mermaid down below looked up, eyes drawn to what was casting a shadow over her form even as all the creatures around her swam away in fright.

You see, she was the only one who swam to it, rather than away.

The little mermaid grabbed onto the ship, hoisted herself up so she could peek her head out and spot everyone aboard as they moved about. Some people said things she couldn't understand (complicated human speech and their idioms), some sang, and one danced along the wooden planks even as they creaked in protest.

That one, that human, is who captured her eye.

His smile was like no others, his beauty incomparable to even the shiniest of pearls, and his eyes brighter than the very waters she lived in.

She fell in love with the human right then and there.

Holding onto the ship, the mermaid let herself sit and watch even as the day passed, and she could have sworn the night came, but instead, it was only the clouds coming in. Did that matter to her? No, not when her sun was right before her eyes.

The little mermaid only noticed when the people aboard started yelling at each other as the rain came in and the clapping of thunder could be heard. Booming across the sky.

A storm had rolled in.

It tossed the ship over the waves and threw everything back and forth until finally it collided into a rock with the same boom the thunder sang.

The little mermaid was tossed aside, left to drift in the water along with the other men that had once been aboard. Pieces of wood floated around her along with barrels, a chest or two, and the cloth that had been billowing in the wind, pushing the ship along. Like this, it was no longer pure white as it was tainted with the very thing filling her lungs.

Filling everyone's lungs.

Frantically the little mermaid looked around, scanning over the people around her who were clinging on to whatever they could, as she tried to spot the human she had watched the past few hours that seemed to drift by her like a dream.

In the storm, she had barely noticed his hand slipping under the water as the human lost his grip to the piece of driftwood he clung to.

So she saved him. The only way a mermaid knew how. Her lips fell to her sun's as scales tickled at his legs, transforming them to something else. To something familiar to only her and her kind.

For she had made him just like her.

Golden sand was coarse under Baizhu's hands and cheek, caking at his skin like a second layer of skin. A molt, just like Changsheng's, as she wiggled out of the shedding scraps of scales. He had helped her time and time again free herself of it as she hissed in annoyance, even as it found its ways under his nails. Later on, Baizhu would clean it out, just like he would with the sand, but for now, that was his last concern as his head groggily put itself together.

There was a haze to his mind, like it was trying to drag him down into the Abyss itself, but that barely mattered as water popped in his ears, and the sound of wailing finally hit him.

Cries.

The same wavering cry he had listened to as he held a mermaid in his lap and let her cling onto him for dear life. Just like back then hearing that noise had Baizhu aching to fix what was plaguing her, but he knew he couldn't make it alright.

But maybe now….

With a groan, Baizhu's hand moved against the sand, even as it felt wrong against his hand, almost overwhelming in a way as he reached out. Hand wrapping around another's with webbed fingers he had long since gotten used to.

“B-Bai?” Her croaked voice rang out.

He wanted to say “I'm right here, so cry all you need” but the words didn't seem to escape Baizhu's mouth. Halting on his tongue like he was choking on air of all things. Clearly, he was parched, but Baizhu pushed through it anyway the moment he could feel her clinging onto him back. Fingers wrapping around his own outstretched hand.

“What happened?”

Without missing a beat she immediately replied: “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't-”

Baizhu couldn't even get a word out as she sobbed how she didn't know what to do.

“I- there was nothing else- I couldn't…Baizhu…”

Opening his eyes hurt as the light of day suddenly blinded him, causing Baizhu to scrunch his nose up as he tried to adjust once again to the otherwise gray and overcast day. In the sand, his glasses laid next to a familiar white skin, Changsheng nestled up on herself as she shivered away, just barely keeping herself warm.

“Shhh…” Baizhu's hand brushed her hair out of her face, still wet from the water when she…

Actually, he couldn't remember how he got here. Not clearly, anyway.

Wasn't he on the docks before? Cane in hand as he tried not to lean on it too much to make it obvious he had been struggling. Changsheng whispering in his ear about how stupid Baizhu was for daring to think he could handle going out, for pushing himself any further despite coughing up blood that very morning, was the last thing he could recall clearly.

Everything else seemed to be drowned out.

“Dear?” Baizhu asked.

For a moment, he couldn't help but smile as she looked up at him, seafoam spilling from her eyes he easily wiped away. Somehow, the feeling of the suds like bubbles didn't feel so unnatural to him this time.

“What's wrong?”

“I didn't- I didn't know what else to do. The others never taught me. I wasn't even sure this would work…”

“I am sure you did what you could.”

“Please, don't be mad.” She pleaded with him.

“How could I ever be mad at you? When I want to be your hom-”

He wasn't given a chance to reassure her any further as his glasses were slid right onto his face, the metal legs usually a stinging cool after he hadn't worn them for so long barely even phased him now.

Her wide eyes looked up at him, the same ones made to be attuned to the dark that looked so beautiful in the light of day, and her hand was wrapped around his.

But all he could focus on was the scales he could now make out with a clear vision marring his skin.

…Why had she been apologizing so much?

Baizhu's fingers twitched against her hold, double checking those scales weren't just her own despite the fact the color of them was far from the inky black he had grown to associate the mermaid with. No, they were like the color of clearwater jade. They were his.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered to him one last time, but Baizhu barely heard the words as his eyes flicked down to take in the sight of where his legs were supposed to be, now replaced with a long tail and flowing fins.

Baizhu mumbled her name, and she looked up at him with frightened eyes. Eyebrows pinched together like she was just waiting for some type of reaction that would have her jumping into the water and swimming away. He could even see her tail twitching.

“It's not reversible.” She admitted.

That was enough to have his hand dropping from hers as questions filled his mind.

What about Qiqi who was waiting for him back home?

What about the pharmacy he had dedicated so much of himself to?

What about- his eyes flicked to Changsheng, still curled up and shivering in the sand, cold blooded just like he was. (At least now he was). What about her?

“Baizhu?” His dear asked, and he couldn't even find it in himself to respond as he simply stared down at the one he had promised to save all those years ago.

‘It's not reversible’ ran through his mind again.

This time, he couldn't find the energy to wipe away the seafoam clinging to the mermaid's eyes as she whispered his name, and he stared back at her in horror.

[pennyblossom-meta]

Gale/Wyll banter

Here's a collection of Gale/Wyll banter that I found in the dialogue files. I hope this is useful as both fanfiction resources and general curiosity :)

Help: I'm fairly sure there's a line from Wyll (?) mentioning how Gale doesn't ever eat vegetables, but for the life of me I can't find it. UPDATE 30/12/2023: Found it and added it to the post, the banter happens with the MC during the tiefling party. Also added a couple more interesting tidbits of dialogue.

Warning: long post.

Act 01

Loss of powers

Wyll points out that he used to kill big monsters, and now a few goblins are a challenge. What gives? Gale remarks it must be the tadpole. Wyll: Was a time I tussled with hill giants without breaking a sweat. Wyll: Now, a mere werebear could swat me halfway to Amn. devnote: Amn = city on the Sword Coast. Pronounced "AAHM" like UK Eng "arm". Gale: Strange things are happening to us. What festers in our minds may well impel our bodies.

—

Netherese magic

Wyll recalls the hag said 'Netherese' and asks Gale what he knows. Astarion adds a thought if he is present. Wyll: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean? Gale: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient, exceedingly dangerous, and quite unrivalled. Astarion: Wonderful! I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic. devnote: A little sarcastic. You've been told the dangerous magic inside you is ancient and unrivalled

—

Goblin raids

Wyll: I've known goblin raiders to slaughter entire villages and strip them for loot - but I've never seen one ravaged like this. Gale: It's hard to imagine anyone who'd willingly inflict such devastation, be they zealots, marauders, invading armies... A sign of far worse to come, I fear.

—

Act 02

Mountain Pass

Gale: These cragged hillls make for weary soles. I see why most headed inland prefer the smooth sailing of the Chionthar. Wyll: More importantly, the land west of here suffers under a terrible curse. Gale: You've seen it for yourself? Wyll: I've glimpsed that doom during my travels, but never dared get close. Wyll: If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

—

Scary woods

Wyll: What a dismal forest. Monsters could be lurking behind any and every tree. Gale: We'd be wise to fear the trees themselves. It feels like the forest itself longs for our destruction. devnote: serious Wyll: Frustrating, that. Wyll: Monsters, I can fight. But I can no more sever these shadows than I could the wind or the sun.

—

Approaching Moonrise

Gale: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the Heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it. Wyll: Then let us push forward, heads high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble. Gale: Your confidence is encouraging but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead. Or eye, as the case may be.

—

Tollhouse

Gale: A tollhouse like this would only be merited in the most prosperous of settlements. This was once a thriving trade route. Wyll: Should it be any wonder? The Chionthar's waters carry merchant vessels from as far east as Berdusk. devnote: bur-DUSK Wyll: And they wouldn't have brought just trade goods, but song, dance, and custom. Riches of the mind and the spirit. Wyll: So much was lost when the darkness fell.

—

At the Mason's Guild

Gale: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were. Wyll: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows. Gale: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed. Wyll: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talents to use elsewhere. Wyll: Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

—

Guildhall

Wyll: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place has a boastworthy bar. Gale: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect to find on their racks? devnote: Anticipating a nice drink Wyll: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents. Gale: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is. devnote: Good humoured

—

House of Healing

Wyll: This was a hospital? Feels more like a prison. Gale: A common enough interpretation. Sickness has a nasty habit of making you feel trapped, if only within the confines of your own body. Gale: I once spent weeks convalescing in the Hospice of St Laupsenn (*) after a nasty bout of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place behind felt like freedom to me. Wyll: I've always relied on the kindness of the healers and menders of the Coast. Better a cleric's healing touch than a chirurgeon's scalpel.

(Lore note*): The Hospice of St. Laupsenn is a temple of Ilmater in the North Ward of Waterdeep.

—

Moonrise General_AssaultState

Wyll: This is it, Gale - today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power. The bards will sing of our victory here. Gale: Entirely unnecessary. Though if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration. devnote: Feigned modesty

—

Moonrise General

Wyll: This is no aimless horde - the Absolute's forces are organised. What do you make of it, Gale? Gale: All enemies have some chink in their armour, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable. That's what we must find. devnote: Cheery/determined Wyll: And if we don't find any clear weakness? Gale: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or, we die nobly in the attempt. devnote: Cheery/determined

—

Moonrise Prison

Gale: Not a devil in sight. How disappointing. COL_MizorasRescue_State_SavedMizora = False, TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened, MOO_MizorasRescue_Event_WalkedAway = False Wyll: I doubt a few iron bars are sufficient to hold one of Zariel's. Gale: True enough. But an illithid pod? That would probably do the trick. devnote: Cogs whirring Wyll: I wager you're right. Ah, Gale - what a pleasure to see a genius' mind at work.

Wyll: Of course Mizora was Zariel's captured asset. How did I not see it coming? TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened Gale: It's in a devil's nature to conceal the truth - you can't fault yourself for that. Wyll: I've been pacted for seven years on, Gale. I should be able to read between Mizora's lines by now, no matter how narrow the gap.

Gale: How long have you been pacted to Mizora, Wyll? Wyll: Seven years. Seven years of hunting the monsters of the Sword Coast - and seven years of Mizora's tight leash. Wyll: And seven years of wondering if I'd ever rid myself of her - or if I even should.

—

Act 03

At the Basilisk Gate

Gale: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here - a fascinating resource. Wyll: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence. Gale: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

—

Morphic Pool

Gale: Whatever the outcome of what's just ahead, it will be the stuff of legends. Wyll: In that case, someone needs to survive to tell the story. Gale: My money's on you, Wyll. Wyll: I'm betting on all of us.

—

Misc banter

Gale's ticking time bombs

Wyll points out that Gale has two ticking time-bombs inside him - but he's holding together pretty well. Wyll: I admire your courage, Gale. Gale: Thank you. Any particular reason? Wyll: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers. Gale: What can I say? Mother always taught me to be a gracious host.

—

Wyll thinks Gale has potential

Wyll tells Gale he's got potential, and suggests he rename himself something more... heroic. Gale finds Wyll quite the tryhard. Wyll: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name. Gale: I take it you have some suggestions? Wyll: 'The Wizard Wonder!' Or how about, 'The Master of the Weave'? Gale: Tempting. But I think we might already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

—

With Laz'el and Wyll

Lae'zel notes that Gale knows a lot about mind flayers. He responds with information about his training. If there, Wyll chimes in as well. Lae'zel: You strike me cleverer than most istiki, Gale. Multiple tutors, I should guess. devnote: istiki - non-gith. IH-stick-ee Gale: Many a wise man and woman indeed. Waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars. Wyll: Ah, the City of Splendours. Spent a whole Fleetswake there with my father. What a delight.

—

Romance

The following dialogues are marked as ROM, which I assume is a flag for triggering when there's an active Romance with the MC.

Romance banter, Act 1

Gale: If your natural charm isn't quite up to scratch, Wyll, there are magical means of adding a little flourish of charisma. Wyll: A kind offer, but I think I'd rather pursue things the old fashioned way.

Gale: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, erm, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll? devnote: Fishing for info, a bit awkward. Wyll: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. Wyll: I can recognise a troll's silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

—

Romance banter, Act 2

Gale: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer too. Gale: I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball. Wyll: I'd have love to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

Gale: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, 'wizard' is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he's heard Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale? Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it

—

Romance banter, Act 3

Wyll: I'm probably going to regret this, but Gale - if I'm to be wed, would you like to make a speech? Gale: You've asked the right wizard. My oratory skills have left many a wedding guest weeping in their seat. devnote: Honoured/very excited at the prospect of speaking at length. Oblivious as to why his previous listeners might have been left weeping… Wyll: Promise it will last less than half an hour? Gale: I can promise it will feel like less than half an hour... devnote: Trying to avoid committing to a short speech

Wyll: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed. Wyll: But Gale - you are so much more tolerable now you've found your second. Gale: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended. devnote: Not rising to it, cheerful

—

Misc quotes

Tiefling party

Gale: Wyll's a good man. He may actually be a tried-and-true storybook hero. Gale: Then again he's so full of himself it's a small miracle he hasn't resorted to self-cannibalism yet.

Wyll: You're running away from Gale's cooking. Wyll: It's delicious, don't get me wrong, but that man wouldn't eat a vegetable unless Mystra herself commanded it.

Other

Gale: So, you didn't fancy sharpening up the old moniker? I'd have thought the 'Blade of Frontiers' might be feeling a bit dull after all you've been through.

Player: Sounds heavenly. Mind if I join you? Wyll: Not at all. You hunt the deer, I'll scrounge up the ale. Prepare your belly for roast a la Ravengard! Wyll: Let's hope Gale doesn't take offence if I assume cooking duties, just the once.

[sotwk]

The Sea Is Always Right (Elendil x OFC) - Part 1 of 4

Summary: The story of how the sea brought to Elendil his wife and the mother of his sons: a nymph in the service of Uinen, who had given up her world to join him in his.

Word count: 1.6k

Content: Romance, Comfort, Fluff, Magic, First Meeting, Mysterious Identities, Sea Nymphs, Reimagined Fairy Tale, SotWK AU and OC

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

This chapter/ficlet is for @dilettantefeminist, who requested an Elendil fic. I hope you like this one. :)

Divider by @plum98

Chapter One

STRANGE TIDES INDEED

Second Age 3204

Andúnië, Númenor

“No--stop! Be careful!”

He snatched her wrist and yanked her hand away in time, before the freshly kindled flames, dancing in fiendish defiance of the seaside breeze, could burn her outstretched fingers. Elendil shook his head, his face swathed in warring halves of incredulity and frustration. But nothing registered in the girl’s expression as she blinked stupidly back at him. When he loosened his panicked grip, she simply withdrew her hand underneath the blanket wrapped about her and buried half her face behind her knees. 

Strange and stranger, Elendil thought, as he plopped back down on the sand. Silence resumed between them, its awkwardness mollified only by the crackle of the bonfire and the rhythmic crashing of waves. He had been a sailor long enough to have participated in the rescue of many near-drowned unfortunates. This one, however, had been a peculiar case from the onset, leaving the young lieutenant wondering whether the situation was too much for him to handle, and how quickly he could pass her on to someone else’s concern. 

He decided to try again. 

“The sun is low,” he began, prodding the fire between them idly with a stick. “If you have nowhere else to go, I know of an inn that will take you for the night. The innkeeper is a kind lady and a good friend of mine. You would not have to pay.”

Only because he would pay her way, but she did not need to know that.

Yet still the girl said nothing. In fact, it only worsened; suddenly she would not even look at him. Curled up into herself, she shrank fully underneath the saddle cloth he had given her off his horse’s back, to provide additional warmth on top of the shirt he had relinquished to guard her dignity.

It was easy enough to overlook decency when he first spotted her pale form prostrate on the shore, water sloshing up to her chest with every sweep of the tide. He leaped off his horse and ran up to pull her further ashore, away from the sea’s covetous reach. 

Once he had positioned her face-up, she was quick to regain consciousness. Before Elendil could lean in to check for pulse or breath, she opened her eyes. There was none of the gasping, coughing, or spitting of salt water that usually came from ones hauled from the deep. With the gradual ease of one waking from a light slumber, the stranger sat up on her own accord and faced Elendil where he crouched next to her. Her wide gaze locked directly with his, and she raised her hand, her fingertips hovering over, but never quite meeting, the hairs of his bearded cheek.

Only then did Elendil’s attention finally fall on the girl’s nakedness, for not an inch of her shivered, despite being thoroughly soaked and at the wind’s mercy. She made no effort to cover herself up. She just stared at him, her features morphing through a progress of expressions too obscure for him to read. 

As Elendil hurried to strip off his outer tunic and help her slip into it, questions rushed from his mouth. 

Are you all right?  Are you hurt?  What happened? How did you come to be in such a state?  What is your name? 

She did not answer, speak a word, or even utter a sound, which left Elendil to surmise that she had gone into shock from her ordeal. He led her inland to drier ground, where he proceeded to build a fire to help warm her up. As he worked he introduced himself, and told her where she presently was, assured her of her safety, and kept up a one-sided conversation using whatever other topics came to mind until he felt like a rambling fool. 

When he finally circled back to his earlier line of questioning, she remained entirely mute, repaying his efforts with that unwavering blank stare. Elendil wondered whether she simply required a hard shake to be broken free of her haze, but he balked at laying hands on such a pitiful waif. Perhaps she needed more time to regain control of her faculties? 

And so Elendil sat across the fire from her in watchful yet uncomfortable silence. He tried to ignore the stare that bore through him with such intensity and persistence. Gradually her gaze learned to wander off and study other things in their surroundings, from her own two feet to the rolling waves far across the blue horizon, but it always returned to Elendil.

Whether those eyes truly saw the things it beheld, was another matter. Elendil had his doubts, judging from the way she looked at him. Without fear, without curiosity, without confusion. Just…nothing. 

After nearly an hour of waiting, not much had changed…except Elendil’s forbearance had run out, leaving space for annoyance to sprout. He would have been home by now were it not for this unexpected detour, and there was nothing left for him to do if the strange girl could not, or would not, communicate with him. 

Elendil scrambled to his feet, a bit too sharply and without warning, yet she did not flinch. “We shall go then,” he announced firmly, to signal that he would accept no argument. “No doubt a hot supper and sleep on a soft bed will refresh you. In the morning you will feel much improved.”

That was the hope, at least. Elendil gave her a faint smile, which received no response like all the others, and walked a short distance across the beach to fetch his horse. 

Valar willing, Yavien would have better luck with the girl. The innkeep had much more experience dealing with all sorts of characters, and maybe a gentle woman would be better received. Leaving her at the inn was surely the correct choice.

Elendil took Súrion by the reins and smoothed a hand over the black courser's neck. He spoke quietly to the animal and began adjusting its tack, preparing him to bear a second rider.

And then he heard it. Soft, high notes carried by the sea breeze, swept into his ears where by its sweetness, it was immediately recognized. Elendil whipped around. The song. That wordless, unknown  melody that had haunted his mind, awake or asleep, recalled or unbidden, unceasing since that day the sea nearly claimed him.

That day he was saved. That day he awoke with the fast-fading memories of clinging to a driftwood plank, and of the desperate moment his strength failed after hours of fighting the raging current. He should have been lost to the deep forever. Instead he found himself with his back to the sands and his face to the dawn sky, bathing in a pale light and a beautiful hymn and a gentle warmth that embraced him from head to toe and told him he was not alone. 

Before his vision could clear, he felt a fleeting weight shift against his chest, and then the light and hymn and warmth all vanished to the sound of men shouting his name. Nearly a year had passed since, and Elendil still clung to those sensations, rejecting the claims of witnesses that there had been no rescuer, no others seen with him on that beach that morning. 

But this voice was indisputably real. It was no taunt in his head or spectre in his dreams. 

Elendil stood frozen for an age, listening. It was THE voice. As dear and as yearned for as the song that had been tormenting him with a crushing sense of loss.

And now, there they were. Both song and singer. Here. Elendil turned, and his feet moved on their own volition, leading him back to the bonfire. 

He fell to his knees. He bent over her, the girl still curled into a blanketed ball in the sand, her face tucked behind her drawn-up legs. Even as the song flowed from her, clearer and louder now up close, and undeniably his.

“You…” He swallowed hard, struggling to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper. “Was… was it you? Who sang to me?”

The tune faded from her barely parted lips as she slowly lifted her head, offering her that unchanged hollow stare. A heaviness gathered in Elendil's chest, choking his hopes. His hands clenched and unclenched. He did not know what to do with them. What he can do with them.

“Please… please, speak. I must know.”

Her brow furrowed with lines so deep it appeared a grimace. As though Elendil’s plea distressed her. Her gaze dropped slightly, resting somewhere in the narrow space separating them…and stopped there. She gasped as one doused by a wall of freezing water.

The transformation that sparked in her eyes spread quickly over the rest of her face, like the first burst of light at the sun's rising. Elendil looked down to find what had caught her interest. 

A spired seashell the size of his thumb, its even whorls colored in perfect patterns of gold upon silver, hung from a thong around his neck. It had fallen out of his shirt to dangle between them. The shell was the second gift that the sea left with him that day, placed upon his chest with the precision of intent. He had worn it everywhere since, to accompany the song and strengthen his faith.

“Elendil.”

She reached out and touched the shell with a single fingertip. His name on her lips spread her trembling mouth into a smile. His hand closed gently around hers, sealing the precious memento she had given him back in her grasp. 

“Elendil.” She whispered again, in the sigh of a traveler that had finally found their way back home. 

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Introduction to SotWK

Headcanon Masterlist

[merakiui]

thinking about a concept in which you clean houses of the rich and famous. you've yet to meet the homeowner. often, a servant or housekeeper greets you in place of the owner themselves. or no one's home and your payment is simply left in an envelope on a countertop, along with a list of instructions. it's a job that pays well and has little to no social interaction. it's perfect and peaceful.

but then, while cleaning one particular house, you find a door locked tight. every space is accessible to you; it must be in order for you to clean it. so the fact that this one is sealed up, protected with a strange assortment of locks, has you raising an eyebrow. you explain it away with a shrug, assuming that it's probably protecting something valuable. besides, this is the home of someone wealthy, and if the expensive abstract art and sculptures littering the place isn't telling enough then this door certainly takes the cake for "eccentric and opulent." it's normal for someone rich to possess all manner of odd excess, or so you tell yourself as you ignore the door and continue cleaning.

you try not to let curiosity consume you, but a month later you're contacted by the same owner. you return to clean and the door is as you remember it. there are cameras poised in the corners of every room and hall, mostly for the homeowner's safety and so that they'll know if you steal anything. you can't linger near the door for too long; they could be watching. still, each time you pass the door it becomes less of a cute curiosity and more of a foreboding omen. what's hidden behind that door that would warrant such extreme protective measures? the morbid side of your brain says it's a corpse, but then if that was the case you'd smell the rot and decay.

if not a corpse, what else could it be?

you knock on the door, expecting a response. nothing happens. so you continue onwards, leaving the door and what lies behind it in peace. you want to ask about it, but then it's none of your business. you're only here to clean the house. nothing more, nothing less.

a few months pass and you're called back to clean. you pass the door again and, like before, you knock thrice. oddly enough, something sounds back. it's muffled, so you can't make out what it was. you knock again. no response. you knock again before remembering the camera and you hurry along. you miss the muffled whimper of someone crying on the other side.

within that same week, you're asked to return. you think nothing of it until you see the state of the bathroom. it's more than a mess; it's a crime scene...or something like it. organized chaos is what you might call it if you were delusional to the strange crimson stains on the tile, not expertly scrubbed out of the grout, or the medicine cabinet in complete disarray, cracks spider-webbing through the mirror. you question it while you clean, not oblivious to the faint streaks leading out of the bathroom. as if something heavy and possibly bloody was dragged from the room.

but you're not paid to scrutinize or theorize. you're paid to clean.

somehow you find yourself drawn to the door after cleaning the bathroom, the only space in the house that required cleaning. there's a bucket of water in your hands, and as you near the door you, rather clumsily, trip and drop it. water sloshes out of the pail and, for the sake of the camera, you curse and groan loudly, storming off to retrieve a towel.

your phone is wrapped in the towel when you return, and you bend down with your back turned to the camera. hurriedly, you fumble to unravel the towel, your shoulders hunched, and you unlock your phone, hastily swiping to the camera. you click record and slide your phone under the crack in door, hoping to capture something that might explain the locked door, the weird state of the bathroom, and that phantom noise you thought you heard all that time ago.

maybe it's nothing and you're making yourself paranoid. maybe you're the suspicious one for jumping to such grotesque conclusions. you let your phone record while you clean the spill, and just before you stand up you quickly pocket your phone. you pray it looked natural to the camera's red, invasive eye.

after collecting your payment and retreating to your car, you sit in silence. two and a half minutes were recorded. it felt much longer than that, but you were rushing to finish. for a moment, you consider deleting the video. if it's nothing, you won't see it. if it's something, you won't see it either. ignorance is bliss, right?

despite this, you watch the recording. the first minute is taken in shadowed silence, so eerily quiet it's nearly static. but then a light flicks on. it's so quiet you have to strain to hear it, and with your volume turned all the way up you begin to hear tiny clicks being made at specific intervals. with each click, the light flicks on and off. and in the near corner, you catch sight of what looks to be photos plastered to the wall and ceiling, illuminated only slightly by the light. you can't quite decipher the contents of these photos, but there are so many that they're almost like a second wallpaper.

and then the video ends when you yank your phone out from under the crack between door and floor to stop the recording.

puzzled, you sit there in deafening silence, wondering what in the world you just watched. mindlessly, you view the video again and again to dissect every piece of information in those two minutes and thirty-something seconds.

the light flicked on a total of nine times in sets of three. the first three were fast, the next three were slow, and the final three were fast. cold, raw horror descends upon you as you watch the video for the nth time to prove a terrifying theory.

the flickering light is a signal, specifically an SOS signal.

someone's on the other side of that door, likely helpless and trapped, and they want out. and aside from the captive and their kidnapper, you're the only other person who knows of their existence.

[i-live-with-three-stray-cats]

I’ve made a statement! It may be riddled with both grammatical and plot errors, but I give no shits!

Statement of an unknown entity, regarding a strange tree they tended to. Original statement given august 2nd, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I’ve always loved nature, and heights, especially. In my early childhood, my ideal afternoon would be spent wandering around the wooded area near my house, looking for new plant species. I never did find any, but that’s besides the point. It was only natural that as soon as I was able to, I began climbing trees, much to the irritation of my parents. During the summer, I’d spend all day in the forest, climbing as high as I could. It was on one such day, in early June, that I saw it. It was gnarled, grasping, and welcoming. It saw me as a friend, and I saw the same. It was very close to Raymond’s house, but that was okay. He couldn’t bother me when I was with my tree. I returned many times after that. One day, while climbing, I accidentally broke a twig off the branch, and began apologising to the tree. I thought of it as a friend, after all, and I had hurt it. The sap that leaked from it was red. It wasn’t that strange. After all, sap varies by the tree. The fact that it was very runny, hardly sticky at all, similarly, did not concern me. My leg stung where I had scraped it, but I didn’t mind. I thought of it a bit like payback. I had hurt the tree, it hurt me back. We would both heal. As I climbed down, I noticed how sticky it felt, but I wasn’t worried. I must have gotten some sap on my leg when I scraped it. Once I was back home, I actually looked at my injury for the first time. It was deep, and definitely should have bled quite a bit. Instead, there was a very distinct lack of red anywhere on my body, except my hands, where I had hurt the tree. The substance leaking from my various cuts and scrapes was sap, but that was okay. I was a friend to the tree, it was alright that this was happening. I went back to the tree every day for the next four years. I nurtured it, putting fertiliser at its roots, watering it, and putting bandages over its broken branches. It bled. I leaked sap. We were similar in how we were changing, after all. I climbed it, but I knew, somehow, that it didn’t mind. Same as I didn’t mind the scrapes it gave me. It didn’t want to hurt me, but if the pain was unbalanced, we would be, too. I came to my tree, last week, but all that remained was a bloody stump. I suppose that the owners of the property had a legal right to cut it down, but it didn’t heal the ache in my heart. I watched the horrible builders reconstruct the house that should have stayed ash, and mourned my dear friend. The house reeks of spiderwebs. I have returned every day, and I am very glad that I saved cuttings of my tree’s roots. It may take a while, but I will help it grow to it’s former glory.

Statement ends

*sigh of intense exasperation*

It seems to have been the summer of 2010 that our statement giver found the tree in Raymond fielding’s backyard. When will I find something about the house on hilltop road that isn’t supernatural? In any case, I sent Martin to investigate, and he returned with a sapling. It is currently sitting in artefact storage, wilting.

Recording ends

*click*

*click*

Supplemental

I’m in the walls.

*click*

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It’s Wednesday, which means another installment of Wídfara and Guthláf!

Thank you sincerely to the small but lovable group who read these! You’re my heroes!

This week we jump forward about 10 months, where Wíd and Guthláf are thriving as a happy (secret) couple. But when Guthláf gets a chance to fulfill his banner bearer dreams at last, Wíd does not handle it well at all.

Parts 1 , 2 and 3 in case you need a refresh.

Wídfara woke early, as he always did in Guthláf’s room. Sleeping on a stuffed mattress with soft pillows still didn’t feel as natural to him as the thin bedrolls on the ground that he had grown up with out on the plains, and he never used the bed in his own room when he slept alone. But the strange feel of the mattress was only half the challenge to finding rest in Guthláf’s room; the other half was Guthláf himself, who had a tendency to sleep splayed out with limbs in every direction. When Wídfara was a boy, a member of a traveling party that passed through his family’s lands had shown him a drawing of a brightly colored, star-shaped fish that could be found in the waters off Gondor’s coast, and Wídfara thought of that special sea star whenever he looked at Guthláf asleep.

He rolled quietly out of bed now and began to dress himself, taking care not to disturb Guthláf in the process. They were only two days back from a harrowing and exhausting campaign in the West-mark, their éored sent in relief to help manage an unexpected and tenacious conflict that sprang up near the western border with several companies of Dunlendings. They had been lucky to avoid deaths, but there were several serious injuries and Thrymma, their banner bearer, was critically wounded. As so often happened to those with the flag in their hand, he had been a visible and attractive target to enemy archers. Now he clung tenuously to life, the wounds he suffered having become infected or perhaps poisoned by the arrows themselves, and it would soon be Wídfara’s turn to sit watch in his sick room, relieving the man who had spent the last six hours there.

He sat back down to pull on his boots and looked at Guthláf as he did. A tangle of blonde waves fell over Guthláf’s eyes, and his lips were parted ever so slightly, allowing the quiet rhythm of his slow, even breathing to be heard. The fingers of his left hand were curled into his palm, squeezing lightly every so often in keeping with the events of whatever dream was entertaining his resting mind, and Slaga was pressed into the small space between his arm and torso, his furry chin resting on Guthláf’s ribs just below the swath of burn scars that had cut across his chest and stomach since he was just fifteen.

For the thousandth time in the last ten months, Wídfara said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for having brought them together. However they had ended up here, it had been the singular blessing of Wídfara’s life so far. He had never imagined it would be possible to find one person who represented so much of what he respected and admired in others – kindness, integrity, bravery, dedication – and did it all in such a joyful, easy way. He had only to hear Guthláf’s booming laugh from across a crowded room and his spirit would feel lighter. He needed only to have those pale blue eyes land on him to feel special and wanted. Guthláf even accomplished what Wídfara had once thought to be impossible: to make him feel at home in Edoras, with friends and support and pleasure all around him. They never really talked directly about their own relationship, uncertain even of what to call it in a culture where there was no word for intimacy between men. But Wídfara knew his own heart, and his heart loved Guthláf.

He slowly opened the door a few inches and peered out into the hallway. When he saw that it was empty, he slipped from the room and made his way out of the barracks. No one else knew the true nature of Wídfara and Guthláf’s connection, and they took pains to keep it that way, fearful of how the other men would react. The concealment hadn’t started out difficult for Wídfara; he was well used to the imperative for discretion, and it was in his own nature to keep private those things he most valued and cherished. But as the months drew on and his feelings for Guthláf only became more intense, he found himself often regretting the small gestures and moments that they were forced to sacrifice at the altar of secrecy. A clasped hand while on a walk through the city. An arm draped over a shoulder when they sat side-by-side. A sweet endearment on one of the many occasions when Guthláf’s famous generosity was on display.

At times like those, Wídfara ached to claim Guthláf publicly, and he knew Guthláf felt the same. But without an example to look to, any other pair of men who dared to live openly as they wanted to, the risk of exposure felt far too high.

The morning air on Wídfara’s face was heavy and damp, and an unexpected chill tinged the dampness thanks to a wind coming down from the mountains. It was a miserable day to be out and about, and his intuition told him it wouldn’t get any better. He crossed quickly to the building where the healers worked, ready to start his shift at the vigil for Thrymma and honor the commitment of the Eorlingas. No one suffered alone. Just before he ducked inside, he dropped a few arrowheads on the small plate by the door, his offering for the concern and protection of Béma on behalf of his friend. They clinked lightly against the bridle bit and spearhead that had already been deposited there by others.

Keeping watch over the critically injured was a difficult task in any situation – Wídfara had seen men cry for their mothers, hallucinate frightening visions and endure shocking bodily indignities as a result of serious wounds over the years – but this watch was particularly troubling to his mind. He had always liked Thrymma, a thin slip of a man who was nevertheless shockingly strong and unquestionably tenacious, and Wídfara prayed those traits would save his friend now. But if he was being honest with himself, he knew there was another reason why he was so keen to see Thrymma recover, a reason that shamed him and yet was undeniably true: as long as Thrymma lived, the éored had its banner bearer and Guthláf, no matter how desperately he wanted it, would be kept from the role. Kept from the appalling dangers of being simultaneously the most exposed and the most targeted man on any field of battle. Kept from the risks that Wídfara had simply grown unwilling to see Guthláf incur.

Herubrand stood leaning against the wall outside of Thrymma’s room, his face drawn and somber, when Wídfara arrived. “It won’t be long,” he said quietly. “He had an awful night, and they brought Idafrith to say her last goodbyes. She’s in there now.”

Wídfara’s heart sank. His hopes for Thrymma had been tenuous at best, but he had hung everything on them all the same. He blinked back a tear or two, thanked Herubrand for having covered the small hours of the night and took up the other man’s place just outside the door, preparing to await the inevitable and trying his best to think of Thrymma in happier moments.

His efforts were rendered futile by the groans and cries that occasionally made their way from the room, sounds of grueling pain that swelled his heart with pity. No death could be deemed good but some were easy, and Thrymma’s clearly was not. Alongside the agony of the banner bearer, the sobs of his wife were also clearly audible, and at times Wídfara had to fight back the urge to cover his ears, to shield himself from the emotional hemorrhage spilling out just feet away from him.

At last, after about an hour, Idafrith’s weeping turned suddenly into a long, piercing wail that sent Wídfara’s blood running cold even as he felt grateful that Thrymma’s pain was ended for good. He tolled the bell at the end of the hall to summon those who cared for the dead, and then he went into Thrymma’s room to finish caring for the living. Idafrith cried in his arms until her mother arrived and he was excused to return to regular duties. But the dark, wet stain of her tears lingered on his chest for long minutes after leaving and the sound of her cries in his ears for longer still.

That night, pinned beneath an arm and a leg that had found their way atop him as they slept, Wídfara had his first nightmare about Guthláf’s death.

Amidst his genuine grief and sorrow for Thrymma, Wídfara spent the next few days feeling irrationally irritated. His mood was dark and his thoughts uncharitable, though he tried his best to keep them to himself, aware that he had no fair basis to be unpleasant to anyone else. But everywhere he turned, he found himself running into frustrations and resentments.

Without asking him first, Guthláf had paid Wídfara’s contribution to the collection in support of Thrymma’s widow, knowing that Wídfara couldn’t afford both his share and the weekly payments he sent home to help his parents. Guthláf had meant well but the gesture left Wídfara feeling small, and when they argued about it, Guthláf’s admonition – “your parents can’t eat your pride, Wíd” – had stung more than he realized.

Even worse, at an impromptu gathering of riders to drink to Thrymma’s memory, Guthláf cried, and Wídfara had to watch as Hildred comforted him. They had a clear understanding between them that they would not offer each other even the most benign physical affection in public, afraid that others would see something as normal as a consoling embrace at a memorial and somehow intuit from it all the other embraces of a very different kind that they shared in private. But as Wídfara saw Hildred put an arm around Guthláf’s shoulders, he felt overwhelmed by a painful stab of jealousy, not because he thought Hildred had any competing interest but because Hildred had the freedom to give the consolation that Wídfara himself yearned to provide. He had the luxury to offer a simple kindness without a second thought as to whether it would also lay bare his most deeply held secrets. The unfairness of it burned in Wídfara’s chest.

The funeral itself took place the next morning at the barrows beyond the city gates, and Wídfara steeled himself for another difficult day. Thyrmma’s closest friends and kinsmen carried the bier with his body past a crowd consisting of members of the éored, Freogan and the other novices, and friends and family members of both Thrymma and his wife. The dead man’s sword and banner were laid neatly across his chest, and many hands reached out to briefly clasp his wrists or ankles as he was carried by.

After singing, short speeches and a ritual toast, the éored stood for the customary honoring of the widow of the fallen. Déorwine brought Idafrith forward and intoned the traditional lines, pausing after each sentence so that all members could repeat his words and recognize the particular suffering that she had incurred on behalf of lord and land.

“Idafrith, we thank you for sharing Thrymma with us…We are humbled by the sacrifice that you’ve made…We pledge to you that it was not made in vain…In his life and in his death, he made Rohan a stronger and prouder kingdom.”

Wídfara repeated the words, as he had at other funerals over the years, but for the first time he struggled to find the meaning in them. He stared at Idafrith, her eyes red but spine straight and an unreadable look on her face, and he wondered what she really made of this rite. Did it provide her any true relief to be told that her husband’s death had some purpose? Would she not rather have seen that purpose unfulfilled if it meant that she could keep Thrymma for a little longer?

He took his place in line to offer the widow an individual expression of gratitude and condolences. When he reached the front of the line and spoke his words, she gave him the same response that he heard her give to every other man ahead of him: “He died as he lived, with strength and honor, and I am proud of him in death just as I was in life.”

As they walked slowly back to the barracks after the burial, Wídfara turned her response over and over in his mind. Something in her emotionless tone and her rote, repetitive delivery worked against the substance of what she had said, and he couldn’t help but feel that she didn’t really mean any of it. But when he expressed as much to Guthláf, he got a shocked, indignant reply.

“You suggest that she’s not proud of her husband?”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant only that such pride will be hollow comfort in her long, lonely days ahead, and she might trade all that pride in an instant for more time together.”

“No one questions how painful this is for her. But she can see beyond herself to the greater good that he was helping to secure. He believed some things are worth fighting and dying for, and I’m certain she does, too.” Guthláf stopped and turned toward Wídfara, studying his face closely. “Do you not think so?”

“I don’t know what I think.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you this. If something should ever happen to me in battle, you need never question how I felt about it. I’ll go to the halls of my fathers with gratitude in my heart. This éored has given me everything I have. A family when that fire took my own. A sense of purpose and meaning for my life.” He glanced around quickly to be sure no one else was watching and then briefly grasped Wídfara’s forearm. “It gave me you. I would accept death on behalf of this éored without hesitation. I would be proud to do it, and I would want you to be proud of me, too.”

Wídfara nodded, eager to end any discussion of potential harm to Guthláf as quickly as possible. They went the rest of the way in silence and each spent the remainder of the day in his own quiet activity, Guthláf taking Slaga for a long walk in the hills and Wídfara tutoring Freogan on the different formations and maneuvers he would need to learn to become a successful rider candidate. The hours of distraction served Wídfara well, and by the time they came together again at the end of the evening, he had nearly succeeded in calming the anxious feeling that had roiled his stomach all day. But when he closed his eyes that night and released his thoughts to the keeping of his subconscious, it tortured him again with images of Guthláf, bloodied and battered, with the king’s banner pooled on the ground beside his lifeless hand.

Four days later, Wídfara’s nightmares started to creep into his waking existence.

Elfhelm asked to speak with Guthláf privately after training that day, and when Guthláf emerged from the marshal’s quarters he was fairly radiating with joy, officially promoted to banner bearer of the king’s éored. To have achieved, at age twenty seven, the one goal that had shaped and directed the entirety of his life was almost more than he could process. He spent a few minutes alone at Thrymma’s grave, sitting amidst the blooming simbelmynë and speaking in a low voice that no one else could hear, and then he threw himself fully into celebration with the entire éored cheering him along.

Wídfara had offered his own smiling congratulations, caught up momentarily in Guthláf’s genuine elation, and he followed along to the tavern where Guthláf was spending himself broke on drinks for every person in sight. But the longer Wídfara sat, the more discomfort he felt and a deep, cold fear crept through his veins. His mind tracked back over all the past banner bearers he had known or heard of, tabulating how few had ever endured long enough to reach peaceful old age. How many lived with horrific and permanent injuries. How many no longer lived, struck down either quickly and mercifully on the battlefield or slowly and painfully in the aftermath.

Across the tavern, Guthláf’s unusually tall frame loomed over the men and women around him, and he seemed even larger with tiny Slaga tucked as usual in the crook of his arm. He looked strong and confident and happy. And yet, to Wídfara’s eyes, he had also never looked so vulnerable. He gulped down his entire mug of ale in one long swallow, hoping it would calm his nerves but knowing that it wouldn’t.

Déorwine walked by on his way to the bar but came to a stop at Wídfara’s side, eyeing his somber face and slumped posture. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is a celebration, Wídfara. Maybe try to look a little less like you’re still at a funeral?”

“Aren’t I, though?” Wídfara heard the bitterness that had overtaken his voice but was powerless to moderate it. “Maybe it’s not today, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time now.”

“Come on, you don’t know that. It’s a perilous job, but he’s a formidable rider.” Déorwine leaned down and put a hand on Wídfara’s shoulder. “This is something he’s always wanted, and it’s an incredible honor. Don’t ruin it for him. You’re his closest friend, and he needs you to be happy on his behalf. And if you can’t be, then maybe it’s best if you go and get some air until you can.” He gave Wídfara a pointed look but also an affectionate slap on the back before taking up his path to the bar again.

Wídfara sat silently for a few more minutes, observing the boisterous activity around him. Guthláf had taught Slaga to growl whenever women touched his arm or crowded in too close to him, using it as a convenient excuse to keep unwanted female attention at bay, and that skill was being vigorously deployed at the moment. The sight of it always made Wídfara laugh, but now even that reliable source of amusement could do nothing to lift his spirits or erase the ever-deepening sense of dread that enveloped him.

He felt Déorwine’s eyes still on him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Drawing in a long breath, he willed himself to redirect his thoughts, to find even a single way of looking at this turn as the good news that Guthláf felt it to be. But no matter how he tried, his mind returned over and over again to risk and loss and worry. His fears spooled out like thread, stitched into every image or word he could summon and leaving behind ugly, gaping holes where he tried to pull them out. A wave of grief welled up from his chest, strong enough that it threatened to choke him if he kept sitting there. Instead, he hurriedly pushed his way up from the table and out a side door into the dark of the evening.

He wandered aimlessly for a time before finding himself near the stables, and he decided to take Cypren for a late night ride. He forwent a bridle or saddle, riding as he had done as a young man before he could afford either, and spent several long hours out in the fields and meadows beyond the city gates. As he brooded on his fears, he found that they were soon joined by both anger and resentment. Guthláf was the most important thing in his life, by a wide margin, but it felt now like he was choosing other things over him. And it hurt.

He eventually headed back into the city, knowing the guards at the gates would not be willing to admit him again if he tarried too long. He passed no one on the streets, but when he turned into the stable, Guthláf was waiting in front of Cypren’s empty stall.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wídfara as he dismounted and guided Cypren into his enclosure. “I just needed to get out of there before I brought down the mood of the whole tavern.”

“And why would you have done that?”

Wídfara closed the stall door with much more force than necessary, loudly rattling its iron fittings and latches. “Because I find it hard to celebrate you deciding to throw your life away so casually.”

A long moment of silence followed as Guthláf eyed Wídfara carefully, and when he spoke, it was with gentle firmness. “I’m not throwing my life away, let alone doing so casually. I’ve worked for this job since I was a boy, and I know I can do it well. It’s a significant honor. Can you not see any happiness in that?”

“I don’t need you to earn honors. I wouldn’t care if you were never more than a simple stablehand. And honors won’t do either of us any good if they just get you killed.”

“I have no intention of getting killed.” His words came quickly, defensively. But then he paused for a moment and summoned a smile, a change of tactics. “Besides, you should have more confidence in my skill than that. Surely I can escape with only a light maiming.”

“I don’t find that funny,” Wídfara snapped.

Guthláf’s smile faded, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Wíd. I only meant to lighten the mood, not to upset you. Or upset you further, I guess I should say. But my point is, you don’t know what will happen. You’re making assumptions – very ungenerous ones, I might add – that I just don’t understand. You’ve known I wanted this almost since the day we met, and you’ve never spoken like this before.”

“I didn’t need to speak of it before because the job wasn’t yours then. But everything is different now.” Tears sprang to Wídfara’s eyes, and he brushed a furious hand across his face to wipe them away. “Now it’s real. And now when you risk your life, you’re risking the life of someone I love.”

His words hung in the air, both of them instantly aware that this was the first time either of them had given voice to that feeling. Guthláf reached for his hand, but Wídfara snatched it back, buzzing with distressed indignation. “Tell Elfhelm you don’t accept the job,” he said. “The one you have is dangerous enough as it is. I don’t need you to make it so much worse. I won’t have it.”

“You won’t have it?” Guthláf rarely showed anger, but a spark of it flickered across his face now. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

Even in the depth of his own anger, a small voice in Wídfara’s mind called out to him. This doesn’t need to happen this way. Don’t hurt the one person in the world that you least want to see in pain. But, almost against his will, he doubled down instead, unable to pull himself back from the precipice where he stood. He straightened up to his full height and looked Guthláf squarely in the eye. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t try to change who I am,” he shot back. “You wouldn’t try to deny me something I’ve always dreamed of. Something that I’ve always been very open about. Loving someone doesn’t mean you get to control them, Wídfara.”

It had been so long since Wídfara had heard Guthláf use his full name that it sounded strange and jarring to his ear now, and it felt like a further breach between them. His stomach lurched as he heard his own next words come out.

“Well if there’s no way around this, then maybe we just shouldn’t be together.”

Guthláf flinched as though he had just been struck, caught off guard by an opponent he never saw coming. “You cannot mean that,” he said, barely audible even in the quiet of the empty stable.

The wounded look on his face nearly killed Wídfara, and the little voice in his own mind screamed at him now to take it back. Take it all back. Say whatever he had to say to make it so that his words had never been spoken. But he had no idea how to do that. Instead he stood, helpless and silent, as his heart broke in his chest.

Guthláf stared hard at him for a long minute, waiting for some word or sign that didn’t come. His chin trembled and his breath came in ragged gasps, but then he swallowed hard and turned on his heel. “If that’s what you want,” were the last words Wídfara heard as Guthláf walked into the night.

@emmanuellececchi @hobbitwrangler @konartiste @dreambigdreamz @sotwk

Dividers by @quillofspirit ♥️

Link to part 5!

And just because, here’s another glimpse of my best possible attempt at a sketch of each of the boys, Wíd on the left (he needs a moment of happiness!) and Guthláf on the right (looking serious because he’s got his Battle Face on and is already covered in dirt):

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader) Part 4

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Chapter Three: Star-Colored Blight

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Warnings: Mentions of crying, descriptions of illness and pain, small mentions of injury, you being scared out of your mind, Childe is still mean, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ It’s dark. Everything is pitch black, your vision dancing with muddy spots as it adjusts to the sudden lack of light, the star lamp nothing more than an empty glass case. Your fingers rest on your open book, still and cold as ice, and something breathes down your neck, horribly close. Whatever’s behind you exhales, and you exhale with it, not daring to even blink as goosebumps stand and prickle on your skin; tiny needles jabbing and dancing across your flesh and nails. Your movements are stiff as you turn, a wooden puppet being dragged across a starlit stage, forcing yourself to confront whoever- or whatever- looms behind you, the fear swallowing your heart whole. A monster. A monster stares back at you, and your breath catches and chokes in your throat, feet stumbling backwards and knocking against the table in an attempt to get as far away from the beast as possible. But every step back you take is met with a step forward from the creature before you, claws shining and silver and so sharp- with a single slash you’d be dead, blood coating the floor, never to speak again. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding in your chest as you accept your inevitable death in one rushed exhale. And yet, it never comes. There’s the sensation of something near your face, so close you can almost feel it, but can’t because it’s still not touching you yet, razor-edged talons ghosting over your skin. The creature sniffs you almost delicately, letting out a small huff of air that ruffles your hair, and tentatively you open your eyes to stare into the strange, crystalline gaze of the monster. It blinks in faceted sapphire, warily curious, the crimson red of its mask and horns visible even in the gloom. The very tips of its claws hover over your cheek, light breathes falling from a maw filled with deadly, pointed fangs. Cold, heavy fear gives way to caution and awe, not daring to move as the creature leans closer and carefully nudges your face with armored hands. You inhale sharply and the beast flinches away, catching your skin and tearing open a small, stinging cut. The blood slowly trickles down, sticky and warm, your head swimming in a daze. It’s too warm in here, too stuffy, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of the monster’s eye, and with blurry vision you swear you catch a few glimpses of twinkling stardust as you press your back against the wall, dread clouding in and filling your chest. Rattling coughs wrack your throat, the force sending sparks of pain through your head as your body jolts. The faint light in the room retreats as the peculiar creature darts away, a sound akin to a panicked hiss reaching your ears as it flees, and you’re left alone in the darkness. A gradual ringing begins to whine in your mind, high-pitched and constant, and you slump and curl into yourself. It hurts to move- it hurts to breathe, your lungs shriveling up, refusing to hold enough air for you to inhale properly. Instead you wheeze painfully, black bits of intangible mold bursting and invading your sight until you can see nothing but the Abyss itself in an ocean of unlit stars. It opens its mouth, sharpened teeth grazing your skin, and consumes you. Hurts… It hurts… Are you awake? You can’t tell- you can’t see anything. Were you lost at sea? There are voices, obscured by water filling your ears, and you feel like you’re drowning. “Oh dear, this already…” “What did you expect? Weak, pathetic mortals were never meant to enter the Abyss.” “I know, but… I thought we had more time…” “Always the… optimist, aren’t you Enjou? A word of advice from someone more experienced- stay in the Library, do your job, and sort dusty old books like you’re supposed to.” Enjou…? He’s here…? Vaguely you register a door slamming shut, and you wince as your head throbs. Someone- Enjou- hums quietly, carefully pulling a silken blanket up to your shoulders, the smooth, chilly texture making you shiver. “He’s right, of course,” The Pyro Lector sighs, his claws tapping idly against each other. “But I didn’t think it’d happen so quickly… Something must be done, and quickly.” With a click of his talons, Enjou stands and delicately smooths down your hair, and you want nothing more than to lean into his touch and fall asleep until everything becomes a dream and you wake up, safe at home in Liyue. But instead you merely cry, tears leaking out of your aching eyes, leaving warm trails down your burning cheeks as Enjou departs, the door shutting with a soft thud. You’ve never despised being alone more. Your body feels hot and freezing cold all at once, the cool sheets against your skin sending chills down your spine, and when you try to inhale you only end up coughing, thick miasma in your lungs choking and smothering you. Any shifts in discomfort send new waves of pain through your body, your veins and nerves infected by the night. Your cheek stings momentarily, and you almost laugh at the small, shallow cut still present. It feels so long ago, your encounter with that mysterious beast a distant, foggy memory. You’d reach up to touch the tiny injury if your body didn’t hurt so much, so instead the scab simply tightens and itches overtop of your skin; scratching, burning, festering. There’s a small scraping sound at your door, and then a slow, drawn-out creak as it swings open, even the dim light from the hall enough to make you wince, but your body suddenly stiffens in fear when heavy footsteps approach your bedside. A shadow obscures the small amount of light that blinded you so, hot, raspy breaths raising goosebumps on your neck- all you can do is curl into a tight, shaking ball as the bed dips from the weight of claws, terribly familiar. Someone lifts your covers and brings them to your shoulders, carefully tucking the silken sheets around you. There’s a moment of rummaging before another weight drops on top of you, warmth spreading through your chilled body as those same claws delicately settle a thick quilt atop you. Instinctively you let out a sigh of relief, and are met with a soothing purr in response. Your senses are muffled from then on, only registering the loss of company- why were you ever scared of it in the first place? Now you sink into your lonesomeness, the ache in your bones present even when lying down, covered in blankets. There’s not a peep from anyone in the hall, not even Enjou; perhaps they’ve all forgotten about you. In a strange way, you almost prefer this, being able to suffer in silence without enduring the judgmental glares of the Abyss. Your lungs thicken and congeal, and you languish away in your cage of a room. “Your Highness, this is really quite serious.” “What have I said about disturbing me… Especially at this hour.” “With all due respect, Prince Tartaglia, your spouse is dying.” “I don’t care.” “You should.” “Watch your tongue, Librarian,” Tartaglia growls, rubbing his temples. “All this does is rid me of a problem I never asked for.” Enjou clicks his tongue, giving the Crown Prince a cold look. “Or it could break the already tenuous partnership in place with Liyue. Their symptoms look very… familiar.” Tartaglia stills, turning towards the Lector, whose shoulders slump with relief upon seeing the smallest hint of worry in His Majesty’s dull blue eyes. “You really should come see them, Childe… Even just once.” The Prince brushes his hand across your forehead, only to snatch it back in shock when his fingers touch skin that’s nearly scalding.  “Their fever is so high…” he murmurs- and yet, you’re shivering, caught in the grasp of some unknown chill. Your eyes are screwed shut in pain, incoherent mumbles falling from your lips, and a cold knot forms in Tartaglia’s gut. Strange. That’s never happened before. The Prince of the Abyss isn’t one to get nervous, yet here he is, dread settling in his bones and refusing to leave. He moves to adjust your covers, only to find that someone’s already done so, adding an old, worn quilt on top to keep you warm. The familiar fabric is soft against his calloused fingers and Tartaglia sighs. Suddenly you let out a series of violent coughs, the Prince jumping back in slight alarm. Each is more violent than the last, your hands squeezing the blankets in a vice grip, and Tartaglia instinctively places a hand on your back to support your thrashing body. When the fit ends you let out a shuddering breath, collapsing back against the mattress. Small tears begin forming at the corners of your eyes, and Tartaglia silently rubs your spine with his thumb. “Librarian.” The Lector perks up, standing at the doorway. “Arrange for a visit to the surface… They need medical treatment.” Enjou nods and turns on his heel to inform the other members of the Court. “Oh, and Enjou?” He tilts his head backwards, confused at the downcast look in the ginger-haired Prince’s eyes. “Do it quickly.” Another nod and the Lector vanishes down the hall, leaving Tartaglia at your side. His movements are stiff and much too rigid as he sits on the edge of your bed, staring out into the corridor beyond your room. It’s almost comical, seeing such a grand figure perched motionless on the mattress, glaring forwards as if daring anyone to say a word. You whimper in your sleep, trembling from the effort of breathing, and subconsciously your hand reaches for and grasps Tartaglia’s, squeezing as hard as you can. His eyes widen, flashing with bewilderment as he snaps his head down to your hand holding his, like it’s all that prevents you from breaking. Another wave of pain stabs your skin, and your grip squeezes the Prince’s fingers even tighter. After a moment, he gently squeezes back.

[krizariel]

Follow up to this post

It’s been a few weeks since then and Tim is almost fully recovered. Soon he will be able to go back home. While Tim wanted to go back to the nest, Alfred had different plans.

“Preposterous Master Drake. You are going back to the mansion where you can be given proper care whilst you continue your recovery. There’s much you’ve lost and you need all the support you can get to get fully back on your feet. No objections.”

“Knowing you, you will want to get back to work right away. I brought you your laptop as a compromise.”

“Thank you Alfie.”

The nurses knocked on the door as it was time for his regular check up. Alfred left the room to let them do their job saying he’d be outside.

“Is your boyfriend not here today?” She asked as she was taking his blood pressure.

“ My who?!”

“Wow careful sweetie. Your heart rate”

Well I’m not the one who asked about my non-existent boyfriend what the hell lady!?

“Dark, tall and handsome? skunk hair? He has been here almost every day for over a year.” She continued.

“At first we thought he was a ghost haha” another nurse chimed in. “Almost every morning, when we'd come clean you up there was a flower, always had enough water. Sometimes we'd see a new flower.”

“You did get multiple visitors at the beginning but later the visits were more spread out and they didn't stay long so we knew when someone had visited. So it was SO strange that you'd always have fresh flowers and sometimes even books by your bed!”

"There was no one here near the end of the day and some nurses were too scared to enter the room in the middle of the night.”

"One time they peeked and one swore they saw a shadow by the corner so they called security. When we came in with a group of guards, no one was in the room. Everything was in place except for a new flower."

Another nurse peeked in. “Y’all talking about the lover ghost?” “The what now?!” Tim said "Yeah, yeah, come in!" Why are they just inviting themselves?! “Listen. Sometimes some nurses were scared to come in during the night but you were always peaceful, nothing out of place. Usually, with patients like you, rooms become silent and more empty as time goes by. It's…common. For visitors to slowly lose hope and being unable to continue visiting often. Each person deals with grief differently.” "But in your case, as months went by, your room was more…lived?" "Later Mr. Wayne let us know if we saw a certain Mr. Peters come in to visit that he was to be included in the list of people allowed to visit you." “We suspect he was our ghost!” A new nurse excitedly added, from behind Tim. WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM!? "What makes you think Mr. Peters is the one that had been visiting me during the time I was in a coma?" "Well, if it's not him, then you had two suitors and one of them was a ghost. I'd go with the first option if I was you." “We haven't seen someone so dedicated so have to admit we were really rooting for you both. We haven't seen him lately though.” an older nurse continued. “Did something happen?” Another one asked. “No just… we are not- “ Tim felt a bit at loss as he was still processing all this information. Alfred, god bless him, made his presence be known at that moment. The head nurse was trailing behind him. “Excuse me ladies. Master Drake requires some rest.” Alfie said as he put his hand on Tim's shoulder, reassuringly. "Everyone please, stop bothering Mr. Drake and chop-chop, there's plenty to do." The head nurse said and then turned to Tim. "As for you Mr. Drake, it looks like everything is looks good. The doctor will see you in a minute to give you some final instructions and to tell you when will be your next check up but looks like you are ready to be discharged." And with that, she left. ----

Once he was finally back at the mansion and settled in his room, he finally gave himself time to think about what the nurses said. He just… it wouldn't leave him alone.

He will have to face Jason again, isn't he?

It didn't take long. And Tim suspects Alfred had a hand in it… "Hey." "Hi." By the way Jason's mouth moved, it looked like he had something to say but kept aborting saying anything. Tim could relate. "Sorry, Alfred wanted me to come to have tea with him this afternoon and was really insistent. I couldn't say no. Good to see you are doing well." "Yeah. Thank you." "Anyway, I'm on my way out so-" "WAIT" Tim grabbed Jason's arm before he could bolt out. He had to ask. "The nurses told me a story… about a ghost." "Uh?" "Yeah. Apparently a rumor started… of a ghost who kept leaving flowers and making noise in my hospital room. Who kept visiting me and keeping me company. They were apparently very charmed." "Oh." "Was it really you?" "I…yeah. Listen I never said anything because I didn't want to look lke a creep. I know it sounds nuts but I might have developed a bit of a crush on you…" "While I was unconscious??" "Let it be known I never said this made any sense." Jason continued "I just wanted to keep you company, to not be forgotten… because I know how it felt to come back and feeling that way. As time went by, I started learning every bit I could. I knew you as red robin but not the real you. I never bothered, and I started to want it really badly." Tim was at loss of words because a part of him wanted to stay upset but he couldn't find it it himself to stay mad in light of all this new information. "It was stupid of me to think that you'd wake up and maybe there could be a chance. But believe me I honestly didn't think it would be that simple. I know I can't take the hurt back but if you'll have me I want nothing more than to make it up to you and give this a try" Tim felt the smile grow in his face. He couldn't help it. It felt like getting closure in the best possible way. Maybe right now he really didn't want to focus on romance but he felt warmth at the thought of having his family around and Jason as well. The fact that Jason thought about him that far… is proof that his affections were never misplaced. "How about we take it slow and just see where it goes. I'd like it if you stick around." Suddenly he felt strong arms around him. Jason was hugging him tightly and just like that Tim couldn't help but feeling genuinely happy. Despite the situation, whatever the future hold didn't seem so bad. "Thank you babybird. I swear I'll make it worth your while." Jason said as he pulled slightly away and held Tim's face tenderly with both hands. "Alright… I could use a spar partner, wanna help a guy?"

"You got it." ----

It's been a few months since then and here they are. Jason usually wakes up first. He almost can't believe he gets to watch him sleep and wake up every day. He will hold on to this for as long as possible. For as long as Tim will have him. "Hey, sleeping beauty." "Hey, handsome." Part 1 Part 2

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Cherrytober 2024 Day 1

Irresistible

Summary: Set during RttE. Hiccup's ovulation happens to sync up with the dragon mating season and Toothless is tempted.

Warnings: Interspecies

Rating: Mature

Words: 951

Prompts: Scent

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: Toothcup

Author's Notes: Yeeeesss, October is going to be a very fun month for me! Hallowtober, Cozytober, Halloween Horror Bingo, Price and now also Cherrytober! I'm a happy, happy writer!

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Years of living with Hiccup and now Toothless finds a problem. They’ve been living on the Edge for a good few months now, Dagur seeks to redeem himself to his sister and find their father, Viggo is dead in the recently stabilized volcano and mating season is right around the corner. That last part, in and of itself, shouldn’t be a problem. Toothless simply has no need for it, his mind isn’t on finding himself a mate just yet. Hiccup is the only family he needs.

Or that was the case with previous years. This time, the upcoming season sends him itching for something he has never desired before and the thing is, he doesn’t even want to search for it. Whenever he thinks of the mate he wants, his mind immediately jumps to his human and just being near him is enough to scratch that itch.

So he makes no advances, nothing in their relationship changes except for one thing; Either he sleeps on Hiccup’s bed or Hiccup sleeps on his. They never talked about it, he’s not sure what it is that he did that tipped Hiccup off, one night he simply crawled up on his stone slab with him and Toothless eagerly curled up around him. Ever since then, without a word spoken, they’ve shared the same bed for days.

Then one morning, that’s when the problem rears its ugly head. Toothless is awoken before the sun even rises, not by a nightmare, not by a sound or anything Hiccup does in his sleep, but by a scent.

He’ll never admit to it, but his nose is far from as strong as Stormfly’s. Much better than a human’s, but far below a Nadder’s. Still, a new scent fills his nostrils.

Strangely enough, it’s one he’s familiar with and he knows exactly who it’s coming from. Hiccup smells this way every month for a few days before he bleeds, he has always thought it ridiculous that humans needed to deal with such an evolutionary kick to the groin.

He knows exactly what it means, has always known it, and yet it never affected him the way it does now. He never smelled it as strong either and he can only think of one reason why. Mating season is around the corner and he’s grown up enough to care.

He’s starting to itch in a very peculiar way. Opening his eyes, he quickly finds his Rider, who is still fast asleep. He lies within his forelegs, head rest on the same one his arms are wrapped around like a pillow, lower body barely facing away from his nose. All he wears is a nightshirt and some underwear. Their close proximity makes this worse.

His mouth begins to water, lying here on the stone slab is suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, especially down below. He desires something that he couldn’t possibly ask for when Hiccup is too asleep to even consider it. He’s not even certain the human can take him, which is why he was perfectly content if their bond never changed from what it currently is. He doesn’t need it to change, but mating season falling perfectly in line with Hiccup’s lunar cycle is throwing him for a loop.

The dragon fidgets, trying to return to his slumber and yet unable to lie still. The scent is so distracting, so all consuming. It fills his head with thoughts he shouldn’t have and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

A small part of him whispers that it’s okay to at least smell him, his body is just reacting to what comes natural to all dragons, even if his bond with Hiccup is anything but. It’s not like Meatlug and Fishlegs have this problem.

He should take a deep whiff, his scent is far from bad. It’s alluring, drawing him in, inviting him to smell and he should take his body up on its offer. To smell, of course, and nothing else. Toothless can’t help the whine that leaves him, his self-control slipping. He knows he should get up and just remove himself from this situation, but that is already beyond him. He thinks about it, but his body won’t move.

Before he realizes it, his nose is closer to its mark, the scent impossibly strong. And then suddenly, Hiccup has been rolled onto his back and his dragon’s nose is between his legs, indulging himself with the scent. Now that growing voice in his head is telling him something much, much different and he can’t help the soft, but possessive, growl. He presses his nose further into his Rider’s groin, accidentally stimulating something incredibly sensitive and a certain someone represses a strangled moan, legs trembling at the attention.

Barely removing himself, Toothless’s big eyes look over and finds Hiccup very much awake and staring at him. His arms are wrapped around his foreleg still, but they’ve squeezed him tighter and his cheeks are bright red. He didn’t think he would wake up to this, but he has and Toothless isn’t sure what he must be thinking now. A rarity.

He’s almost mortified enough to pull away, almost. That scent still draws him in.

Than Hiccup does something he wasn’t expecting; he spreads his legs apart, giving him plenty of room to work with. He’s allowing him access, giving him permission to follow that scent and that voice to wherever they want him to go. Through his osft linen nightwear, the dragon can feel his heart racing below his sternum. His own heart beats faster, too.

Barely moments later, Hiccup is removing his nightshirt and underwear. Needless to say, there might be a couple of new Night Furies in their future.