#monster high make a splash

[amesakigami]

[fl4minghoe]

❥ [ Monster High ] Swim Class icons

please like or reblog if you save/use!! ♡

[nyahchan]

Ok, here we go. Cryptid x Reader, where the Reader is on a hike with friends and said friends prank the reader in a really mean way causing them to run off and start crying. The Cryptid stumbles upon reader crying and for some reason misinterprets this as reader seeking a mate and starts doing a mating dance thing that the reader starts out being confused by and a little scared but then they start giggling and think it's really pretty, but then that is misinterpreted as accepting the Cryptid and the Cryptid is soooo happy that this little human wants their eggs! And obviously the crying is just from nerves, so they'll just hum and sing until the get all sleepy and fuck their eggs into them. And they'll be so happy when the wake up safe in the Cryptid's nest and so full and pregnant!

Sorry if that was long and weird lol my brain just kept going.

A Cryptid's mate

Yandere cryptid x gn reader

TW:non-con, implied killing, toxic friends, attempted murder, monster fucking, somnophilia, extremely rough non-con, blood, breeding

Author's note:- you didn't specify the gender so I tried to write it in a way that any gender can read it with whatever pronouns as I made sure not to add any

For you guys see this

Humans are stupid and weird, they tell others to be careful of the red signs yet they themselves seem to ignore them.

You are unfortunately one of those foolish humans, you saw the signs yet you chose to ignore them, you knew better than anyone else that these people who stand in front of you laughing right now, calling themselves your "friends" are just wolves in sheeps's clothings. Your eyes start to blur as you remember being so excited when your "friends" asked you to go on a hiking trip with them, there was a slight voice in the back of your head, asking numerous questions about why they would suddenly ask you to hang out with them in an activity considering they never included you in anything, but you were naive and hopeful and you decided to agree.

During the hike, your "friends" kept on whispering to each other and giggling, you couldn't understand why until they reach the middle of the forest where suddenly one of your "friends" shoved you and another took your hiking bag and began rummaging through it, throwing everything on the forest floor.You couldn't understand why, you tried to tell them to stop, but they kept on snickering "There's a dangerous bug that fell in your bag from one of the trees!" said one of them as they threw all your belongings on the floor and then "accidentally" stepped on them. You tried to brush it off as a kind gesture that went wrong, you tried to smile through it but deep down you knew, they did it on purpose.

Now most of the items you had brought for the hike was ruined, your bag had mud on it as well as the items that didn't get ruined. You all continued walking through the forest, going deeper and deeper inside when you guys are met with a river with high current going downstream, there's a path over it to walk through. Your "friends" tell you to walk on the path first ,feeling pressured,you do exactly that but as soon as you do, one of them pushed you into the river,you see in the corner of your eyes that they are grinning as you fall into the river. Your immediate survival insticts start working and you grab onto a large stone in the river and push yourself out, your bag flowing down the river. You're gagging and choking on air as you frantically ask them why they did it and the only thing you get in response is "it's a prank relaxxx" but you can't anymore, tears run down your face, you eyes get blurry and without thinking straight , you run off to whatever direction your feet take you to, you don't look back, you don't look front either, you're vision too blurry from the tears as you cry and run, your wet clothes making lots of splashing noise as it hugs your body, your undergarments fully visible through your clothes now.

Before you know it, you're in the middle of yet another forest except here, there are no trail tracks for hikers, but you don't care, you're too busy crying at the thought that your own "friends" tried to kill you, you cry by yourself, or at least that's what you think as right behind you stands a strange creature, not human, but not full monster, a cryptid or whatever humans nowadays decide to call his specifies, but it looks human and for some reason, it's extremely handsome. The cryptid man watches you cry from behind, you're so drowned in sorrow that you don't even realize there's a monster man behind you. He watches you cry and ponders on what might be the reason for such an adorable little human to be crying all by themselves in his territory, the territory where cryptids live, the territory he rules, the territory far away from human knowledge?And then it suddenly clicks in his mind, you're crying because you can't find a mate. Good news for you, he's also looking for one!

The cryptid immediately jumps in front of you, making his presence known to you. You're immediately startled and frightened at the creature in front of you, you rub your eyes to wipe the tears away and take in the appearance of said creature, it's around 8 feet tall, is muscular, looks so weird yet also like a human, his face is chizzled and he looks so handso- you shake your head and then look at the creature with a look of terror, but that immediately turns to confusion as the cryptid starts doing this weird funky dance, to you, it's a goofy silly dance, to him, it's a mating ritual and the second you crack a smile and start giggling at his mating ritual, he thinks you have accepted his proposal, he's so happy that this cute little human wants to be his mate, he can barely wait in anticipation as he sees your wet clothes sticking to your absolutely delicious body! The cryptid immediately picks you up like paper and carries you even deeper into the forest, you start panicking and try to struggle in the creature's grip but it's futile. Upon seeing your struggle, the cryptid interprets it as you're probably just nerves, but that's okay! He can just hum and sing to you so you feel relaxed cause he needs to make sure his mate is relaxed as he's gonna get his little human pregnant with his seed! And so starts humming a song, occasionally singing it while he keeps taking you deeper and deeper into the forest, before long, you stop struggling and fall limp in his arms as you fall asleep. The cryptid is happy that you're finally relaxed as he places you in his lavish and comfortable nest.

Your clothes are no longer on your body, thrown somewhere in a forgotten corner. Your unconscious body spread apart as you're being split on his large girthy cock, all that can be heard is the wet clenching noises of his inhuman cock hitting deep inside you, slapping against your skin. He plays with your nipples, licking, turning and twisting them, earning a moan from your coma like sleep state. Moans escape your mouth so often even though you're asleep, he's glad that he decided to put you to bed before fucking and breeding your tiny little human body as you definitely would've gotten hurt otherwise as blood drips down from the skin that tore which was expected considering his cock is way too big, so girthy and meaty and the tip is like a mushroom. At one point, you wake up but the immense pain you feel immediately causes you to pass out. The cryptid kisses your lips as it feels itself nearing his release after 3 hours of constant abuse on your tiny body and within a few minutes, he ejaculates inside you, his eggs spilling so deep inside you, your stomach starts bloating a bit and then bloats a lot. You look absolutely divine , filled with his eggs! Although not all of them wi fertiloze, at least one or two will, and he's so excited to see his little human mate all round and pregnant with his spawns!

When you awaken again, you're lying on a fluffy nest, your eyes hazy, you feel dizzy, you feel heavier, you feel extremely sore and in pain to the point tears start trickling down your face, suddenly a pair of rough hands touch you from behind, one caressing your stomach while the other is caressing your face, wiping the tears off of it, you can't do anything but cry "I'm sorry, you must be in a lot of pain, there was lot of blood, don't worry I stitched you up" you wonder how this creature even knows human language, or where he got the tools for stitches or how he knew how to do it, your mind runs a 100 miles a second,youre too scared and exhausted to move so you just whimper when from the corner of your eyes, you spot familiar clothes, you recognize them immediately as the clothes of your "friends", your eyes widen as you see blood on those clothes and your eyes try to wander further to see the full scene but the cryptid immediately covers your eyes with one hand while the other is still caressing your bloates stomach, he coos in your ear "shh darling, you're still recovering, just relax and go back to sleep, you're gonna be a mother soon, you don't need to stress about anything, I got you new clothes as gift for taking my eggs so well, I just haven't washed them yet" is all you hear before passing out again. You're now stuck with this strange creature.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

BNHA

something else to pretend by beeclaws

Bakugou apologies. Somehow, this makes things worse.

Retrograde by redrobin1989

Retrograde /ˈretrəˌɡrād/ adjective: directed or moving backwards noun: a degenerate person. verb: go back in position or time.

Seasoned pro heroes Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki are mentally transported back to their younger bodies due to a quirk. All they have to do is wait for the quirk to wear off for everything to return to normal. But sometimes the journey is worse than the destination.

DC

dick move by konan_konan

Part 1 of batfam twitter shenanigans

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・52min guys what if dick grayson IS batman. that’s why he thought he was getting cancelled. it all makes sense. 784K Views | 142 Retweets | 52 Quote Tweets | 63.9K Likes

tason jodd ☑ @jsntdd・49min ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo asshole last week you said i was batman 461K Views | 88 Retweets | 16 Quote Tweets | 18.3K Likes

or: a civilian overhears a conversation between batman and nightwing. twitter does what it always does: makes things worse

the rules of playing make believe by hoebiwan

“We can’t squat in some dead guy’s mansion, Damian,” Tim says. Damian, in the midst of packing all their meager belongings into grocery sacks, ignores him.

“Why not?” Jason demands. “It’s not like he’s using it. Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Or: Homeless!Reverse Robins squat in Wayne Manor.

Nine Worlds

with a winged heart by celebros

"Cliopher. Cliopher. Cliopher." I blink. It's Conju, standing with his hands on my shoulders, and I go to answer him and realize that I am already speaking, babbling, and Franzel is behind him, wringing his hands and looking near tears. I try to focus on what I'm saying, but it's like a stream, light and splashing past me, too quick to hold, not enough to catch, somehow, somehow – A few weeks before the start of the viceroyship ceremonies, Kip finds himself the unwitting recipient of a truth serum.

Original Work

That Frightful Nest Inside the Throat by whereveryouroam

Part 1 of That Dreadful Clockwork Beats Below

Living horses were in vogue among the high and mighty of the great families, but Peter’s new owners had sent proud motorhorses, clicking over in a blur of cogs and wheels, to draw the carriage. It was a very nice carriage - plush and cushioned. He couldn’t help but think this was sinister. Masters didn’t transport slaves in finery. At least, not slaves like him.

Peter’s spent years under the cruelty of masters who want the Monster inside him to become their weapon. He is quite sure that Lord and Lady Arken will be no different.

Percy Jackson

Through rose-colored glasses (the past is perfect) by Mo13

Part 1 of Rose-colored glasses verse

Luke/Percy were in a non-consensual 'relationship' when Percy was twelve. Percy deals with the aftermath, while constantly convincing himself that his relationship with Luke was fine (IT WAS NOT). Mostly cooperates with canon up to the end of Heroes of Olympus.

The Goblin Emperor

A Complete Education by bomberqueen17

Preparing for the Emperor's wedding, everyone has some things they need to learn about.

Emperor's Best Friend by imaginary_golux

Ino and Mireän decide their cousin Maia needs a special present for his twentieth birthday.

a burning coal of kindness by egelantier for Morgan (duckwhatduck)

When Maia is kidnapped by a faction hoping to halt the construction of Wisdom Bridge, Beshelar, gravely injured, is by his side. It might just be their undoing.

The Stairs Beneath the Heart by hermitknut

Part 1 of Keystone

The reign of Varenechibal IV is over; the reign of Edrehasivar VII has begun. The transition, however, is anything but smooth, as the Alcethmeret household navigates grief and worry as well as adapting to the new emperor.

A series of missing scenes and unseen moments centering around the Alcethmeret household over the course of the first few months of Maia's reign.

[silverskye13]

I need to ask, though:

*How* long has he been in the water?

The earliest "he is surely in the water now" mention I can see is Etho stepping backwards after the splash - he's stepping through the water that's why it's hard. The Bdubs hug feels like "not yet" cause Etho shouldn't be up to his shoulders then - but it might be the starting to lead in point, 'm unsure? And the singing moment might indicate the start of charming?

Honestly, I love everything about this. I love everything about every your text, the way you manipulate details and atmosphere. When I'm trying to remember my first read, it's. A lot of suspence. I know something will come, it might be Bdubs - it surely is Bdubs, and I expect him to catch Etho unaware. The murder talk, the danger that I anticipate - it's not there yet, but I'm waiting for it, and the tune, the hug, the splash, the buckle - all of them feel like fakeouts to keep the pressure. And the bells are ringing, the hints are all there, but they're so carefully weaved into everything else they might be just words.

And then the question sounds, and the horror hits.

With frantic scrolling up, re-reading, getting even more terrified, and begging for Etho to do something.

It's high mastery, imo.

Oh man, thank you so much for the kind words :D I'm glad you liked the fic, and that the suspense/horror came together so well! I don't write straight horror too terribly often? And I was trying to really stretch some muscles with this one, to see what I could do.

For when exactly Etho gets in the water: I didn't really define that for myself. I wanted him in the water to happen in the space between cues in the story. But I can talk about the things that happen around that.

When Etho sees the stone on the still water, he is getting his first glimpse of the creature. Something is watching him from across the unnatural stillness of the river. When he thinks to himself, "I'm on the dock and I'm safe," the siren song has started and he's been charmed. Up until this point, he's shown some amount of caution [walking quietly on the dock, making sure he isn't wearing anything heavy besides his sword, prioritizing what activities he does first] but when he suddenly and overtly drops caution for "I'm safe on the dock", he's being lied to by something else. And, after emphasizing that nothing can drag him into the water against his will, he reaches over the side of the dock and touches the water willingly.

The rest of the story after that is, to me, the siren justifying sounds and sensations that would break the spell. Etho hears himself shuffling on the dock -- that's just BDubs walking up behind him, nothing to worry about. Etho feels a sense of danger and unease -- well, BDubs is talking about killing Grian. Etho hears the creature moving towards him in the water -- BDubs has his legs over the side of the dock and is kicking around. BDub's eyes are the wrong color -- well, the sunset is reflecting off them, making them red.

Somewhere in these cues, Etho starts shivering, because the water is cold, and he's standing in it.

I also tried to weave in a little bit, the idea that Etho knows he's being charmed? Mostly to do with the end, when he finally gives us the reason why he came to the water in the first place: he wants to see and hear his friend again, and the monster's illusion is the only way he can. But he knows enough to be cautious. He doesn't want BDubs to touch him -- it could be the monster, keep your distance. He feels fear at the idea of deep water, something that nearly scares him out of the illusion, but when he's given the chance to break it [checking his heartbeat to see if it's unnaturally calm], it's knowing he'll stop seeing BDubs that makes him decide not to check.

Etho's flaw in this is he thinks he has more control than he does. He hasn't "come to the water" until he's stepped in. But the truth of the matter is, as soon as he decided he wanted to see BDubs again, he was already willing to be deceived, and someone can't be dragged in against their will.

"How long have I been in the water, BDubs?" [When did I fall for the charm?]

"Does it matter?" [The minute you missed hearing my voice.]

There are other little things I had fun with: the start and end of the illusion both have to do with armor, something that should protect him, but is useless when it isn't worn. Every time Etho makes the mistake of feeling safe, he can see the creature [in the river at the start, when it's trying actively to drown him at the end]. The fact that, when BDubs jumps in the water, Etho shouts "Keep your distance!" and Tango mentioned they would be listening for his scream, to come rescue him. The fact that BDubs straight up says "You're not scared of me, the monster, you're scared of the deep water. But people drown in shallow water all the time."

I dunno! Fun little things that up the stakes a little. This was a really fun one to work on :D

[myspacebrat]

In honor of pride month; I am compiling fics of gay, bi & pan Eddie Munson

comment, or send an ask for yours or one of your favorites to be added

boys on film (series) - pornstar!steddie x virgin fem reader

by: @corrodedcorpses

summary: Eddie and Steve have been your best friends for years. Although they've never done or said anything to make you feel bad, you can't help but feel inadequate to them when it comes to sexual experience. After they star in their first Threesome together, some weird emotions arise.

Now in technicolor (series) - soulmate!steddie x fem reader

by: @thorfemmes

“Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams"

The tutor (series)- queer!eddie munson x fem reader 18+

by: @brewsterispunkk

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

I’m in control (series) - pornstar!steddie x fem!reader 18+

by: @justmeinadaze

summary: You're just promoted to agent for the porn agency you work for. You worked really hard to get where you are and beg your boss to allow you to manage the 2 new up and coming pornstars they just signed.

seeing stars (series) - bi!eddie munson x fem!reader 18+

by: @boogiewrites

summary: A new girl with a mysterious air to her and a questionable past comes to Hawkins. After a chance encounter at a party, Eddie becomes a bit smitten with her. The problem is, she’s an unreadable brick wall when she’s sober. Despite her hesitation to letting men in her life, they become best friends. Will Eddie’s attentive persistence help him break down the walls she’s put up to protect herself from not getting hurt? Will Star learn she can be in love and be loved in return after her last relationship left her traumatized? Will her spiritual guidance help her see that Eddie really is the one for her? A story of strangers to best friends to lovers with a splash of witchiness and a lot of trauma healing.

The pull (short series) - steddie x succubus!fem reader 18+

by: @xxhellfiregirlxx

summary: You move to Hawkins after spending the last decade in New York City hoping to have a peaceful and quiet next few years flying under the radar only feeding when necessary and making everyone you spend a night with forget you. But when you arrive, you feel a pull from two men like you’ve never felt before. As soon as you feel it you know flying under the radar here wasn’t going to cut it, you had to find them.

Ready, steddie, go. (One shot) - steddie x fem reader 18+

By: @bettyfrommars

Trapped under ice (series) - hockey player!steddie x figure skater!fem reader 18+

by: @lofaewrites & @teddyseyeswinchester

summary: The one where the Ice Princess, The Wolf & The Monster celebrate in the only way they know how-by making it dirty.

Rockstar!eddieverse - bisexual rockstar!eddie munson x fem! reader

by: @enam3l

I want you both - steddie x reader 18+

by: @screammunson

summary: you can’t help yourself when you catch them, they can’t help themselves when they ask you to join

Heavy metal parking lot (one shot) - queer!eddie munson x fem reader 18+

by: me

summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.

To be added…

I know I’m forgetting so many! :(

fics on ao3

Lessons in anatomy (series) - bisexual!eddie munson x fem reader x slowburn steddie x fem reader 18+

by: LilithsLullaby

summary: When you agree to help Eddie Munson in study hall, you don’t anticipate those lessons to go beyond using textbooks to some real life practice in anatomy.

If it's just till St. Patrick's Day (series) - gay!Eddie Munson x trans fem! Steve Harrington 18+

by: RedLegumes

summary: Eddie Munson is positive he's gay. Sure girls are nice to look at, smell good, look like they taste lovely and sweet. But that's not his thing. Never been his thing. He likes hard, blaring, rough and tumble. He likes guys. But when one of those guys reveals he wanted to transition… Eddie has to do some thinking. He likes guys, but he really likes Harrington.

I Promise That You Won't Wanna Get Off (one shot) - steddie 18+

by: Kwills91

summary: Robin drags Steve to a bachelorette party having no idea he's going to be just as entertained by the gorgeous stripper as everyone else. Possibly even more so.

To be added…

[greyskyflowers]

We know there's a lot of weird spots that the strawhats have traveled through and I was thinking about what things would be super creepy out on the open water.

And I thought the sea is always moving, right? There's almost always going to be the sound of waves and water, even if it's quiet. There's almost always going to be the sway that comes from being at sea, the smell of salt, the harsh line of the horizon, etc.

But what if there wasn't? What if the water goes silent and the ship goes still? What if the horizon disappears in a night that's too dark to be normal and the moon is the only light but it sits in the sky more like a gaping hole than the usual nighttime companion?

Dark

Quiet

Still

Something where Luffy and Zoro are out on the ship in the middle of the night, the moon too high and too bright but everything much darker than it should be. The water and sky around them is all a wrong sort of black.

Luffy sits ridged on the figurehead and the frown is clear from the lines of his body even though he's facing forward. Zoro standing on the deck right behind him, the muscles of his back drawn tight and he has his hands on his swords. They're both almost swallowed by the dark.

The moonlight cuts across the deck in a harsh, sterile light.

Sanji leans against the mast towards the back, the very edge of his shoes teasing the cut of the moonlight. The red glow of his cigarette lights up his face just enough to see the harsh slant of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. The smoke is white as it leaves him and then gets swallowed by the dark.

Robin off to the side, arms crossed and hip resting against the side of the deck. She looks like stone in the low light, shoulders back and a blank look on her face.

All of them hyper focused on where the horizon should be, but is instead it's just endless, wrong dark.

Everything still and silent. The water doesn't move and there's no breeze.

The world is holding it's breath.

Quiet.

The only sound is their heartbeat in their ears and shallow breathing that's almost soundless. Chopper clings tight to Nami who's pressed side to side with Usopp. Franky and Brook are both on the other side of the room, keeping watch and braving the edges of moonlight that come through the little window. They're motionless, Brook blends into the shadows and leaves only the occasional white bone for the moon to catch. Franky is especially menacing and huge in the near nonexistent light.

They don't go out, terrified of making a noise that would break whatever silence is currently blanketed over them, terrifed that they'd make Luffy and the others lose focus and take their eyes off whatever they're watching or waiting for.

They stay curled up and silent against the wall that separates them from the moon and the night. It's dark inside the cabin but it's softer than whatever is outside. It's almost comforting, like children hoping a blanket keeps away the monsters.

They stay like that all night. When the first splashes of color spill across the hoizon it seems like a blanket has been ripped off. Suddenly air comes easier into their lungs and their muscles relax enough to flex fingers that had been clenched for hours and roll shoulders that had gone tight.

Zoro is back to his normal napping spot of deck, chin already dropping down to his chest and swords laid across his lap.

Luffy is still on the figurehead but he looks like he's humming to himself and looking towards the horizon with ease.

Robin is sitting down on the stairs, tired but relaxed as she leans into the morning breeze.

Sanji is already making his way towards the kitchen with a lazy stroll, the smell of his cigarettes lingers over the ship.

They don't ask.

Chopper scampers over to Zoro and carefully nudges the swords aside enough that he can climb onto his lap. He finally relaxes as Zoro wraps an arm around him, he's in one of the safest places on the ship.

Nami lets Sanji flutter around her longer than normal, sitting beside Robin who also seems content to indulge their cook a little extra today.

Usopp tails Franky, being careful on where he looks even though he knows there's no risk of him seeing anything terrible anymore. Franky asks something and Usopp launches into a story, eyes brightening up and a smile back on his face.

Brook goes to sit near Luffy and starts to play something warm and welcoming to greet the day.

It never happens again, at least not like it had that night.

Sometimes Luffy or Zoro seem to stare off at the horizon with a sharp intensity, but it breaks quickly.

Sometimes Sanji stands on the deck and smokes until there's a pile of ash at his feet, brow furrowed as he looks out over the water until he seems to blink and break himself out of it.

Sometimes Robin sits on the deck and wears the face she make when she's working on a puzzle, going though everything she knows and trying to make everything fit together.

That endless dark and haunting moon never reappear though. The dark only brings stars and the moon glows like a warm candle.

[1-800-munson]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲'𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐦 || E.M

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Eddie quietly hummed a beat to himself as he sat in the living room, his foot tapping along as well.

After a few moments he groans in frustration, throwing himself back onto the couch.

"Is everything ok in there?" You called out from the kitchen.

A moment of silence went by before footsteps of Eddie's boot came closer towards your location. "I have the perfect beat but I just can't find the lyrics to fit!" He explained, leaning on the counter, watching you move around the kitchen.

"I'm sure it'll hit you at a random point when you're not so stressed!" You reassured, pressing your hand on his chest, leaning into kiss eddie but a noise from the baby monitor.

You both sighed, you chuckled and tapped his chest.

"Go get our baby will you?" You asked, moving back to the stove to start prepping lunch.

"She always knows when her parents are about to have a moment.." Eddie chuckled before walking back to your guys room.

"There's the monster!" Eddie joked as he spotted your baby laying in the middle of the bed, she looked as if she had just popped out of the blanket, her baby hairs sticking up in different directions, just a diaper on, skin imprints on her tummy from laying on the blanket for the first hour of her nap.

"The pillow getcha?" Stacy, your daughter looked around the room before lifting her hands up towards eddie.

"It beats me up too, even gets your mama!" Eddie tickles her belly to get a laugh out.

"Does not!" You yelled from the kitchen. Eddie turned towards the baby monitor.

"She listens in, you believe that?" He jokes with the baby.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You peaked out the window blinds you and Eddie had in your bedroom, you watched as he mowed the grass in front of your house to fit the little pool the wheeler’s had bought for Stacy to use during the summer heat. 

You grasped the towel on your chest, bathtime with a water baby was something else.

You glanced over towards your daughter where she sat on a bean bag chair, watching cartoons. She had her fist in her mouth, gnawing peacefully.

After getting a bottle of water for your boyfriend, you walked out of the small trailer and walked over to Eddie, who was filling the pool with the hose.

“Need water?” You asked as you walked closer. “I need something that’s not water.” He said, eyeing you up and down.

“Calm down, it’s mostly from the baby deciding to splash around today in the tub.” You both smiled.

“Either way, you’re a hot ass mom!” He kissed the hand that was handing over the water. “Oh yes, get back to doing the pool for your daughter!” You laughed and playfully shoved him away.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Summer’s in Indiana weren’t a fun game when you didn’t have consistent  AC going or a large pool. 

You watched from a towel as your daughter splashed around in the baby pool.

“You enjoying the water S?” You giggled as she nodded, making her sunhat flop around.

Eddie sighed as he walked out from the trailer and into the heat, he walked past your yard and near the street, you assumed a buyer would be stopping by. 

A little bit went by and you were right, a car filled with high school seniors pulled up.

You got up from the towel and walked over to Stacy, she had started to show signs of being in need of a nap, you bent over and picked her up, before grabbing the towel and dried your baby off before going inside to settle her down.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

While waiting for the buyer to grab the money from the glovebox of the car, he couldn’t help but listen to the boys in the back talking.

“It might be fucked up but i think im in love y/n, my god!”

“I knew y/n was always gonna be a milf!” 

“Stacy’s mom got it going on, holy shit!”

Eddie’s head popped up, as the buyer handed him the money. Eddie handed the baggie of pills before walking away, the last comment about his comment stuck in his head.

“Stacy’s mom..?” He whispered, he sat down at the small dining table and picked up the paper he had laying around and scrambled to find a pen as the lyrics started to flow out.

You watched from the kitchen as Eddie scrambled around the living room for his guitar before playing a beat and muttering things to himself as he played.

After a few hours, he had jumped up from the table and walked over towards you, on the couch.

He leaned down and kissed you. “I love you.” You stared at him for a second. “What did you do?” You questioned, suspiciously.

“Nothing bad, I just wrote a song about you.” You raised an eyebrow, his answer peeked your interest. 

“And what is this song about exactly?” You twirled one of his stray curls between your fingers. “Let me get my guitar and you’ll be my first listener.” You nodded and watched as he ran once again for his guitar.

“Stacy’s mom has got it going on, she’s all I want and I've waited for so long!” He sang to the beat.

“Stacy can’t you see, you’re just not the girl for me. I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom.” He paused and watched your face for a reaction. 

You smiled and clapped for him. “I love it! You’re basically saying I'm a hot mom!” You squealed, Eddie chuckled and kissed your shoulder and you wrapped your arms to give him a hug.

“She’s so gonna hate you for this song when she’s older ya’ know?” You said, still hugging. 

“Oh I bet, especially since everyone knows who Stacy's mom is..” You both laughed. 

“We’re so mean.” Eddie chuckled and kissed you. 

“I know, now kiss me Stacy's mom!” 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

[badsongpetey]

Part 1

Part 2

For a second, Lance thinks it’s some weird cosplayer with no sense of personal space. Purple hair, fake elf ears, someone’s played way too much D&D. But then they blink and their pale violet eyes swirl with unearthly fire, and… NOPE. LEAVING NOW. Not today secret waterfall satan.

Lance is turning before he even thinks it and starts sprinting to the edge of the pool. Well, sprinting as fast as one can in neck high water. In retrospect, swimming would have been the logical fastest option but Lance isn’t finding himself in a particularly logical state of mind.

He sees Hunk standing wide-eyed and petrified in place as he nears the rocky edge of the pool. Lance grabs for the ledge to lift himself out, but all the thrashing about has made it slippery and he falls back into the water with a splash. In an instant he’s up again, sputtering and blinking away the water. He risks a glance behind him, surely this setback has given that thing time to catch up, but all that’s behind him is the slowly stilling water.

What the… ? “HUNK!! HUNK! Some help here!” Lance yells, just as the water explodes around him. He spins to see something impossible. Some creature with a head nearly as long as his body rises out of the water, rapidly followed by miles and miles of purple and blue neck. When it stops rising, it pauses to look directly at him, water rippling off its serpentine body, and Lance’s brain begins to shut down.

Of all the ways Lance had considered he might meet his end — in bed surrounded by dozens of great-grandchildren; heroically defending the universe; smothered by adoring fans — this particular demise had never ever had occurred to him. This giant mutant snake ate the cosplayer and was going to make him dessert.

He feels the rocks press into his back as he unconsciously tries to put as much space between him and the monster, his mouth moves mutely, just as well, screaming would probably just encourage it. It cocks its head, and Lance irrationally thinks it looks like a confused puppy before it lowers to look him in the eye. This is where it eats him.

He wants to look away, but fear sticks him in place. Its eyes glow and swirl with purple and red flames as it edges closer and snorts, and, suddenly he’s yelling. Loud. Lance McClain is not going to die in this stupid haunted waterfall. Not today.

He scrabbles fruitlessly against slippery side of the pool when large hands grab onto his arm and heave him bodily from the water. Hunk is about as pale as it’s possible for a human to get and he looks like he’s about two seconds away from throwing up, but he’s still here. He’s winning all the best friend of the millennium awards today.

“RUN!” Is all Lance can get out before they’re doing just that. Fuck his shirt, fuck his shoes, fuck the cosplayer, fuck that mutant snake.

They run until the sounds of the waterfall are a distant memory and they’re deep in the forest again. Lance collapses against a tree and Hunk drops beside him. They sit like that, trying to catch their breath and wrap their heads around what just happened.

“Do you think it followed us?” Hunk asks, still face down on the mossy ground.

“No,” Lance breathes, “something that big, we’d know if it were behind us.”

Hunk looks up at him. “What WAS that thing??”

Good question, Lance thinks.

Hunk eases himself up to a sitting position and leans agains Lance. “Everyone said it was haunted…” he mumbles, “but not with the Loch Ness Monster.”

Lance snorts. “Waterfall Nessie?? Maybe it’s got a vacation lake to get away from Scotland once in a while.”

Hunk guffaws, “Told you to let me test the water before you jumped in.”

[shadowsingercassia]

My Dark Queen | "My name... is Bryaxis, and you, my dark queen, will be my savior."

Bryaxisxreader (let's pretend Bryaxis is a he/him, because in the acotar wiki it mentions that he's genderless, and let's ignore how random this idea with Bryaxis is)

Summary: Even the monsters of nightmares crave freedom and after Bryaxis meets you, he senses the magic inside you, dark magic that had the power to bring him back to what he once was and conquer Prythian

Words: 2.5k (this was supposed to be a bit shorter well oops)

Warnings: mentions of blood, cutting yourself because of a ritual, dark magic, smut, oral (f receive), language, a tiny bit of dirty talk

This is pre-acotar timeline!

I read over it once and I'll read over it again later so there might be a few mistakes!

You jerk up on your bed, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin, making your silk nightgown stick uncomfortably onto your body. Pushing sweaty strands of hair out of your forehead and neck, you make your way to your bathing chamber.

Pale. You were deathly pale, a strange feeling - like a source of power - thrumming in your chest. You shove away the strange power, splashing water onto your face.

It was the same nightmare again. You, going down that eerie staircase in the library. A hand of shadows reaching out to you, touching your skin, its touch sending shivers down your spine. Vivid. The nightmares felt so vivid.

Determination to find the creature overwhelmed you and even if it would be dangerous, you didn't care. Walking over to your armoire, you strip off your drenched nightgown and threw on your pale blue-grey priestess robes and a thin cloak. You also grabbed a dagger from your nightstand, just in case.

You are a priestess who works in the library of Velaris after fleeing from Hybern's attack on the Sangravah temple. Barely escaping, you seeked shelter in Velaris, where the High Lord caught the scent of your blood in the air and found you. Since then, he offered you a job at the library and you accepted it, thanking him deeply for the act of kindness.

First thing you had noticed in the library though was a staircase, that leads at least fifty floors down. When you looked down, you could only see darkness, endless darkness and it always made you curious.

And then came the nightmares. Shadows and darkness and that same staircase. Until today, when you had enough.

The library was eerily quiet, no other librarian around. Darkness seemed to guide you to that staircase, wrapped in shadows. Again, your curiosity was piqued and tonight, you'd find out exactly what is down there.

One step at a time, each one more confident than the last, you ascended down the staircase, your boots making no sound. Shadows wrapped around your ankles and wrists and a hint of fear coiled beneath the surface. You shoved down the fear. You would not be afraid of whatever lurks down there.

It seemed endless and for a moment you contemplated going back up. But then, your foot stepped on stone, a soft clink sound bouncing off the underground walls.

Surveying the room, you saw a very dim light, and bookshelves all around. Taking a step back, you hit a surface, wood. So there were more shelves from behind you. You still couldn't understand why this place was wrapped in darkness. Why did no one think of building a window?

Familiar shadows, the ones from your nightmares wrapped you in a thin veil of blackness. Your stomach tightened but you weren't afraid. They caressed your legs, slithering up your thighs.

A deep voice, smooth like velvet and dark like shadows reaches your ears.

"There you are, my dark queen. I was wondering when you'd show up." It send shivers down your spine, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. A chuckle, with a seductive undertone that made arousal pool onto your panties.

The creature might have picked up on the scent, yet it didn't mention it. A pair of red eyes flashes from the distance, a shadowy silhouette appearing. It towered over you. The creature in your nightmares, a creature that would haunt anyone's nightmares honestly.

"Who are you?" You asked the silhouette as it comes closer, growing in height by the second. It was made out of darkness.

Another chuckle had a wave of arousal crashing over you. "My name... is Bryaxis," it said. The voice sounded almost as if it was right next to your ear, and you swore you could feel the creature's hot breath on your skin, even if it was in frint of you. "And you, my dark queen, will be my savior."

You tilt your head to the left, eyebrows furrowing. "What do you mean?" The creature seemed to relish in your confusion, as if it was a predator watching its prey.

But for once, he didn't feel like a predator, because he sensed your power even if you didn't know it yet. Despite appearing in your nightmares and luring you into the dark, he didn't feel like a predator.

For once, Bryaxis felt like the prey.

"You, my dark queen, hold a power that no one else has. You have the power to bring me back as I once were, in my immortal body. I am trapped into my beast form and in this library, and you have the power to give me freedom. I'll give you anything, power, glory... together we could rule Prythian. You could rule Prythian and make all us beasts your eternal servants.

"If you free me, I will be forever in your services. You will have the ability to command me, give me orders. I could even be your toy, anything you want me to be, my dark queen."

You contemplated his words. Perhaps that was the power you had been shoving away, the one that thrummed under the surface when you woke up from the nightmares.

"How can I free you?" The question lingered in the air between you. He didn't respond immediately, he seems to be deep in thought. His red eyes stared at you, almost as if trying to see the power. He could sense it but he couldn't see it, yet Bryaxis knew that whatever it was it was dark, lethal.

"It requires a ritual, where you'll use your powers and spill your blood, though you won't bleed to death, it doesn't require self-sacrifice," you had tensed when he said you'd spill your blood but then as he explained you let out a sigh of relief.

"I don't have powers," you state but he just chuckles again, each one sending another wave of heat through your body.

"You do. Close your eyes, feel that power, search for the center of it, let it run through your veins."

You follow his orders, closing your eyes. He tried to help you as best as he could, his shadows wrapping around you like a cocoon.

Darkness enveloped your vision as you picture the glowing source of power. Visualizing you hand, reaching out to it, coaxing it out of its shell, trying to break down its defenses. You tried reaching to it but at that moment where your fingers brushed against something, it seemed to move away. Avoiding you, or perhaps it was you who didn't want to see it unleash.

"Don't be afraid of it, just like how you weren't afraid to come here tonight," his voice was now directly in your ear and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin.

Determination coursed through you and you reached out again, only for the glow to move further away. Was it you who was pushing it away? You didn't know.

Again and again, failing and failing you reached out and reached out but nothing... until you brushed your fingers against it again, and this time, you grasped it.

Bryaxis saw your eyes snap open, glowing white as your power erupted. Books flew out of the shelves and a white shield engulfed the both of you in order to protect you from the damage your were causing. Shelves collapsed against each other, a mess of wood and paper all that was left. White flames shot out from every direction, turning everything they touch into ash, yet no scent of something burned hung in the air. And then a gust of wind send the ashes onto the air, sending them flying in swirls and circles. They danced around you before your hand let go of the source of power and you blinked and saw the destruction you caused.

"By the Cauldron," you whispered, looking into those red glowing eyes. They were speechless just as you were. He knew you had powers but if your powers were that strong... you could conquer Hybern and Prythian in seconds.

"My, my, that was most certainly impressive, my dark queen," your mouth hanged slightly open, mind still reeling from all... this.

It was extraordinary, really. You had never seen powers like these. Or felt them course through your body, and now instead of shoving the power down, you welcomed it as it gently trailed inside your veins. Controlling it as best as you can, your gaze locked with his.

"So what next?" His shadows wrap around you cooling off your burning skin, not only from your power but also from a burning desire you had for this creature, Bryaxis.

Honestly, you didn't exactly know why you felt that towards him, he was a nightmare and you were a priestess who happens to have unique powers that no one has ever possessed before.

"Now, you draw a circle around us, using your flames, cut open your forearm, and let the blood pool into the ground as you resite some words in ancient language." He made it sound easy when it was just not.

You silently thanked yourself from having strapped a dagger on you, in case of emergency. Now drawing all your attention to your power you made the ash that remained draw a circle around you two and then, you set the ashes on white fire.

Your eyes gleaming a bright white, almost blinding to look at and you unsheath your dagger, relying on your sense of touch since the white enveloped your vision.

Holding the dagger over your forearm, you slice a cut up your forearm, your power faltering with the pain as you hissed. You took a moment to let more power in, letting in thrum through you as the flames grew higher.

Blood spilled onto the ground and you repeated after Bryaxis as he told you the words. Bryaxis couldn't help but notice the way your blood seemed as it sparkled, as if it glowed white.

Once you were, you let your power fall, though the flames didn't, as your knees buckled and met the stone, a hiss of pain escaping your lips. The white in your vision was gone completely and from the light the fire was causing, you made out a man.

The most handsome man you had seen in your life. His jet black hair was messy as strands of it fell over his brow in loose waves. His eyes were red although now they looked like normal eyes, with a pupil, an iris, the white around them. You could make out a short beard in the light. He didn't look a year over twenty-five.

His body was bare, muscles on display, his chest marred with scars. You couldn't help it when your gaze trailed down to his length, hard and leaking with a bead of pre-cum.

He approached you and crouched before you, his head inclined into a deep bow. "My dark queen," he whispered, "you have freed me and because of that, I offer you my eternal servitude and my loyalty."

He doesn't rise, he just waits for you to give him the next order.

"Rise," you command and he raises his head to meet your eyes. Arousal pooled into your panties yet he still didn't mention it, even if the scent hung in the air.

When your eyes locked, it was as if the whole world stopped and for a moment everything faded into the backround. You catch a faint scent of his own arousal, and your wetness trailed down your thigh.

"What now, my dark queen?" A smirk tugged on his lips and your breath hitched at the proximity. "Fuck me, Bryaxis" the words left your lips before you could stop them.

He was on you in a second, pinning you into the ground as his lips latched onto your neck. Undoing the clasp of your cloak, he threw it aside before continuing his assault on your neck. His mouth was hot against your skin, demanding. A moan slipped past your lips and he smirked against your skin.

His teeth grazed your pulse point and you gasped, leaning your head back to give him better access. Biting and nipping, he made his way to your collarbone, tongue darting out to taste your skin. A low growl ripped from his throat as he sucked a mark onto your skin.

Your back arched off the ground and he took his time to push the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pulling down the fabric to expose your chest to his stare. His eyes had darkened to the point where you almost couldn't see the red anymore.

"Beautiful... so fucking beautiful," he murmured. His hands were everywhere, mapping out your curves and contours with such fervor, as if he was a male starved. Honestly, he might have been trapped in this form for millenias and it definitely showed.

His mouth closed over your breast, teeth nipping on the hardened bud as his hand gave equal attention to the other. Pleasure overwhelmed you, making you moan out his name as he pinched and rolled your nipple. He was experienced, you'd give him that.

Releasing your one breast, he moved onto the other, sucking on it. Your need grew, like a wildfire, spreading through your body. It was overwhelming pleasure and desire, desire to have him buried inside of you. He seemed to pick up on the sweet smell of your arousal that intensified with every passing second and his hand drifted down to touch your core.

"So wet, my dark queen, is that all for me?" His voice was somehow darker, lower and that only made you more aroused. "Yes... it's all for you Bryaxis," you answer him, your words laced with need.

His hand withdrew from your core as he licked the tips of his fingers, covered in your slick. Cursing under his breath, he pulled your dress down your legs completely, leaving you bare except from your panties, that were drenched.

"Perfect, you're so perfect my dark queen," his fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them completely off, revealing all of you to him.

He pulled back and kneeled in front of your core, throwing your leg over his shoulder, his tongue licked a stripe up your core. The contact send sparks through your body, overwhelming you with hot pleasure. A moan tore from your lips and it only seemed to spur him on even more. His lips closed around your clit, teeth gently sinking into it. You felt a coil in your stomach, your release, ready to snap at any moment.

His short stubble scrapped against your wet folds as he continued lapping up your arousal. His soft moans and groans vibrated through your core and then you felt that coil snap.

Your release came crashing over you, white spots dancing in your vision. Waves of pleasure rolled over you as his relentless pace slowed, his tongue collecting even the last drop of your release.

Catching your breath, you looked up at him, a thin layer of sweat covering both yours and his body. Your release coated his chin and lips and he licked it off.

"You're a perfect little dark queen, aren't you?" He kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth.

"And a little slut I see, you want me to fuck you, my dark queen?"

"Yes"

And he did.

------------------------☆------------------------

a/n: Here is a dark smut fic while you wait for the next parts of 'Unfated Mates' and 'The Gate To Home'! Honestly, I don't know why I thought of a fic about Bryaxis but I just did and now here we are. Also this is my second time writing smut (and my first time not cutting it in the middle and letting our reader release 🤭) so I would appreciate feedback on it! Also if you have ever pictured Bryaxis as a person, how did you picture him?

general taglist: @blessthepizzaman @amara-moonlight @homeslices @flourishandblotts-inc

comment '💕' to be added to my general taglist!

Love, Cassia ❤️

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Imagine team free will daughter figure passing out on hunt after she said she is okay.

She is sick, but says she is ok to go in a hunt with Dean, they kill the monster but after that immediately pass out.

What would be the team reaction?

Ok so assuming Cas is currently human (since he didn’t heal her), the panic is pretty high. Sam catches her when she starts to fall and yells out to Dean, who freaks out—thinking she got injured—until he checks her temperature and realizes it’s because she’s sick. He’s still scared, but at least she didn’t get stabbed or anything.

They’d lay her out in the back of the Impala and splash some ice and melted ice on her from the cooler (because we all know that that cooler only ever has beer in it, not water). She’d wake up before they get to the bunker, but Dean would probably wait to yell at her until after she was fully awake and comfortable in her own bed.

But once everyone’s sure that she’s not gonna die, Dean freaks. He tries not to be too mean, but he needs her to know that she put everyone in danger by going on a hunt that she wasn’t physically capable of.

Sam eventually gets him to back off, but when Dean leaves, Sam doesn’t let his sister off scot-free either. He makes sure she knows she screwed up, but beyond that he makes sure she also knows that they were just scared for her, and they don’t hate her or anything. After Sam leaves, Cas is the last man standing.

He doesn’t scold her—Sam and Dean did enough—instead, he just tells her to get some rest and to get better soon.

[binah-beloved]

Decay Amidst the Seafoam

Queequeg x Reader Mermaid AU Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Description of injuries

~ * ~

There’s froth on the waves today. That’s good. It means you can see the water’s color, a deep blue rather than fog and gray flecks. It’s temperamental, the ocean. Always, even on the brightest of days and the clearest of nights, it rages just beneath the surface. You’ve learned to love it in a way, nurture rather than fight its unrelenting anger like so many of your crewmates. It’s more peaceful that way. More grateful, the both of you. No matter where you went or what you did, you were always drawn back to the sea in the end, the waves tugging at your feet and thoughts. So you board a ship headed for the end of the world, in pursuit of the whales and stingrays and jellyfish. Where it’s going isn’t important. You’re happiest with the breeze in your hair and the smell of salt in the air. There’s nowhere better than here, despite the distance and lonesome days.

Fishing is commonplace. Nets and hooks and harpoons to catch and kill even the strongest beasts. Although those creatures are rarely seen- the traps fill mostly with ordinary fish and crabs to be sold at various docks and shores. Occasionally a fish will be too small, those are the ones you like the most. The tiny, writhing things you cup in your hands and slip back into the ocean, to grow and live and thrive. They wriggle once they hit the water, splashing over your fingers and disappearing through the murky waves, and you smile, waving goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. Live happy and free. The sound of yelling and shouts reaches your ears, a morning with the sun high in the sky. For a moment you barely spare a glance, busily knotting ropes together, but the commotion increases and heightens and jabs at your senses until you clap your hands down and rise to your feet, blocking out the noise with your palms. A coworker rushes and tugs on your arm, yanking you in the direction of the horrid din. It’s loud and awful and you hate it, but there’s a crowd surrounding one of the nets whispering about how they don’t want to deal with it, make you deal with it.

You’re pushed forward and come face-to-face with a very trapped, livid sea monster. A mermaid- maybe, that would be the right term. You’re not sure. Siren, perhaps? Whatever the word, the poor creature thrashes and struggles, her long tail tangled and jerking in the tight grip of the net. She growls viciously at you and everyone, a low, threateningly guttural sound, but there’s blood on her face and valleys of crushed scales where the ropes wrap around her and you can’t help but approach, holding your hands up where she can see them. A spark of fear flashes through her eyes, all brown and gold and narrow, but she bares her teeth and hisses deeper, ragged fins flaring in sharp lines. You sigh, turning and shooing the rest of the crew away with a quick motion. They stare in disbelief, more worried about their potential catch, and you give them a steely look that sends them scampering and trickling away until it’s just you. Just you and an angry, scared mercreature.

Perhaps your captain wasn’t lying when she called you an excellent candidate for successor. The sea beast shuffles away from you when you look back, pressed against the rail of the ship. Her chest rises and falls, too quickly, and slowly you kneel and sit on the deck, hands upturned. She’s taller when you’re sitting. Overall, too, her long tail curled in coils of dark green scales. You don’t mention the tattoos and scars littering her body, the claws that lash out and graze your skin; fixing your gaze with hers, you sit a little ways away and speak quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I need to get close to help, alright?”

It does little to curve the fear in her eyes, but her talons curl into her webbed hands and she sits, silently, watching your every move. You try not to stare. Really, you try. You focus on the ropes and net, the stains of blood against algae and beige. But your gaze still contains a hint of awe as you gingerly unwind her fins, meticulous around the crushed scales until you finally pull and toss the net to the side. A soft, relieved sound escapes her, a combination of a sigh and a whimper, and for a moment longer the mermaid observes you with a piercing stare, almost curious as her breaths slow and steady. Then she shakes out her dark braids and bows her head slightly to you, leaping over the side and back into the sea without a word. Droplets of water hit your face, and you blink and sit in shock with the world quiet all around you apart from the distant cries of the gulls.

The sun begins to set in fiery orange and pink. It’s replaced by deep twilight and stars, and the ship sails onward. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. I hope I see you again. The next night is met with cold winds and clouds, all the rabble packed away in the cabins while you tidy up outside. The ropes are rough and twined. You’re used to it. There are constellations of calluses on your palms and a few on your arms. They’re like tiny treasures, gemstones that don’t sparkle but rather help you grip your tools, the harpoons and knives and hammers and screwdrivers around the ship. The boat rocks, once, and you continue neatly wrapping the ropes you braided together. You hear a splash somewhere from behind, then a thud. It’s not quiet, louder than when an unfortunate bird accidentally flies directly into the mast. A pair of familiar brown-gold eyes meet your own and you automatically stumble back from a cold jolt of surprise.

The merbeast’s ears flick when you fall into a sit, pointed and webbed with a dark green tinge, just like her scales, her long tail draped messily over the railing. All you can do is sit, mouth slightly open, as she slowly shifts and inches towards you, tilting her head. Her tail slithers almost like a snake, the fins torn, riddled with holes and approaching you cautiously from across the deck until she’s only a foot or so away. She’s still taller. Looming over you, gaze sharp and keenly aware. You don’t dare move- there are two outcomes, one ending in her fear and the other ending in your blood being spilled. Neither sound appealing. So instead you simply stare at each other, even though your wrists are beginning to burn from how your hands are bent against the deck. The creature’s ears twitch once more, and light as a feather her tail fin brushes against one of your legs before withdrawing again.

You blink. She blinks. Slowly you raise a hand and give her a cautious wave, and she mimics the gesture, fingers much stronger than your own. You can’t help how your lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and the mermaid’s dark eyes glint with something curious and satisfied. She returns the next evening. And the next. And the next, the wounds from that dreaded net healing day by day. Always at night, and always when everyone else has gone off to bed, with the same splash and thump. For a bit you think she might be scoping out you as a potential meal, but she only sits by you and watches intently. Whatever you do, whether it’s work or rope weaving or something calm like reading, she stares and observes. She doesn’t directly touch you- not for a while, apart from light grazes from her tail and hair, merely drawing ever so slightly closer with each visit. Sometimes you’ll idly talk to her and she listens in silence. You ask her lighthearted questions, and she tips her head with no response. It’s alright. Her presence alone is oddly comfortable, and gradually her stiff posture relaxes until her braids often drift over your skin.

You ask her what her name is, every day, and she says nothing until a week and one night have passed. “Queequeg.” Her voice is quiet and deep and initially you think you imagined it. But she repeats the word firmly and follows it by very gently nudging her head against your shoulder. “Queequeg.” That evening her tail curls lightly around you, and you see her smile, and it’s small and warm and safe.

Queequeg seems to have deemed you the same, habitually wrapping herself more and more around your body each day until she’s practically snuggling with you, entirely unashamed. She still doesn’t talk much, preferring to hear your voice instead, but when she does it’s soft and careful, like her mouth isn’t used to the words. You’re allowed to touch her as well, running your fingers over her scales and webbed hands and ears, the ropes knotted around her arms and wrists, and when you reach her cheek Queequeg’s eyes close and she nuzzles into your palm with a subtle purr. And she does the same to you, cupping your face in her claws and bumping her forehead against yours, pressing the tip of your noses together.

Her eyes shine with some sort of tender delight, and you can’t help but smile back. Her favorite resting place is your lap, her head pressing to your legs as you idly fiddle with her long braids. She did them herself, she tells you with a hint of pride, even the gold cuffs, and you hum as she lightly bites and nibbles your fingers, leaving faint indents behind. “You’re silly,” you mumble to her, rubbing a thumb beneath her eyes. Silly and sweet and gentle for such a ferocious, intimidating creature. She simply bares her sharp teeth at you without a hint of malice, the stars coming out up above.

Queequeg loves the sunset and the stars. They make fiery colors and silver in her hair and eyes, across her glinting scales. She watches the sky, and you watch her with all your attention. You do your best to recount any stories of constellations you’ve heard to her, even if you’ve forgotten. There are stories from her, too, whispered in halting sentences as she grips her arms, digging at the tattoos she despises. The scars speckled across her dark skin become clearer, more vivid, but she clasps your hands in hers and meets your eyes with a firm stare. “Listen. I tell you. Trust you.” You suck in a breath, only able to nod, and she brings your hands up and holds them to her forehead, then her lips.

She calls you hers on that chilly evening, ears lowering in a rare show of nervousness. But you just lean up and kiss her forehead, Queequeg’s breath catching as she cuddles insistently closer to you. The ship doesn’t feel so lonesome anymore, not with a constant friend beneath the waves. Your crewmates wonder and ask how you went from quiet and withdrawn to happy overnight. Still quiet, but happy. And you just shrug with a laugh, that you don’t really know, and they clap you on the shoulders and laugh along with you. They don’t have to know. They’ve all forgotten the peculiar sea monster in the net, by now. You and Queequeg are each other’s special secret.

One day you encounter a whale and it sends everyone into a tizzy. It rips the sky and sea apart, the lightning illuminating the pouring, drenching rain as you and your coworkers scramble to right the ship and not be swallowed by foam and saltwater. It’s loud, so horribly loud, and you wish Queequeg was here to hold you tightly against her chest and block out the noise. Your captain hollers for you to get away, the madness gleaming in her eyes sending a strike of fear into your bones where it sits and settles to corrode. The moment the ship flees from the whale, the storm tapers off into a steady drizzle, a few stains of blood across the deck yet no one worse for wear as gray clouds blanket overhead. That night, Queequeg is nowhere to be found.

You fret, unable to stop yourself. You’ve always worried, been a worrier, and Queequeg is yours. She’s yours, and you’re hers. You spend hours pacing the deck, snapping your head towards the water at any noise only to be met with disappointment, unable to sleep. She doesn’t reappear the next night. Or the ones after that. Your crewmates observe your lethargy and dampened mood with concern, always giving you something to do or work on. In a way, you’re grateful. It distracts you from the hollow, nauseating pit in your stomach. Perhaps they know that, too. Days pass into weeks, into months. Still, no Queequeg. Maybe, you think while choking back tears, she left and forgot about you. Maybe she realized you’re too different. In your loneliest moments, you unearth your last shred of hope and dream otherwise. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. I miss you.

The wind bats your face, crisp and fresh and smelling like the sea you’ve always loved as your shoes hit the deck, a length of rope in your hands. It’s practice, you say to the others. A special knot you learned from someone. You never tell them who, exactly, but they agree it’s the sturdiest knot that’s been tied. The rope you carry is new, just braided, and the waves splash as you absentmindedly study the new calluses on your skin. Something tackles you, sending your body flying and colliding hard against the wood. You groan in pain, head spinning. An equally distressed growl reaches your ears.

That something is on top of your prone body, draped across and covering almost every inch. It’s long with dark scales, but covered in a horrid white membrane, spreading like veins. Your captain calls it Pallidification. It comes from that whale and eats away at the body and mind, slowly, until you devolve into nothing but a hungry, empty thing. But it’s a familiar face; familiar eyes, familiar ropes now practically fused to the body, familiar braids even though they’re stuck together by pale muck.

Queequeg stares down at you, breathing heavily. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilating and claws holding your shoulders in a vice grip before she abruptly pulls you even closer and holds you tight. A pitiful whine slips from her mouth and cracks your heart in two, her voice garbled and incoherent except for one word. Your name. Which she repeats over and over, holding your cheeks and crying. You, you, you- it’s all she says, pressing close and ignoring your stunned and terrified coworkers. Queequeg coughs, violently, the pallid membrane having engulfed her throat, and buries her face into your shoulder, trembling. All you can do is hug her back, running a hand over her spine, trying not to sob yourself. She shudders under your delicate touch, desperately digging her claws into your clothes with broken croons and gasps; small, quiet, heart wrenching noises.

One brave crewmate takes a step closer, and Queequeg’s fins flare as she whips around and snarls at him. They all back away with a whisper, a few running off to find the captain, but Queequeg’s attention has returned to you and you alone, nudging your hand pleadingly with tears tracking down her features. They’re blurred and warped from the Pallidification, the tattoos she so hated and the scars you spent hours tracing over vanishing as the white tissue consumes her, slowly. She still leans into your palm when you caress her face, gripping you with unspoken words.

Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

The rest of the crew disperses to search for the captain, to capture this strange pallid creature. It’ll lead them toward the whale, the whale they’ve begun pursuing ever since the captain laid eyes upon it. Then the voyage will be over. Everything will end. So they leave you with the monster behind on the deck- it acts oddly docile when it’s focused on only you- to knock against the captain’s door, smelling the smoke from her pipe. It, it, it. They call her an it. Your arms tighten as you frown.

Queequeg slumps in your arms, twining her tail around your leg. The dark green scales you love are coated in white, chewing away at her from the inside out. She used to put her chin atop your head. Now she bumps under your jaw, curling into a tight coil and trying to cling to you, trying to become smaller and disappear because it hurts, everything hurts and she couldn’t get to you and when she finally opened her eyes again you were gone. Now she barely remembers anything other than the pallid, the pallid and the pain and you, you, always you. You alone kept her marginally sane. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave, don’t make her leave. She nuzzles against your collarbone with an exhausted sigh, fiddling with your hand until she carefully laces your fingers with her webbed ones.

She needs to go, now, or the captain will arrive with her chains and mad grin. But she refuses to. Not without you. Never without you, not again. Queequeg glances between you and the ocean, tugging on your arm. She lets out another pleading noise, hollow and echoing like whalesong. You- she’s only safe with you. It’s not safe for you here, not anymore. Those people were looking at you, like you were something to be dealt with. It’s not safe.

You hesitate again, and Queequeg’s eyes soften at the splinters of fear in your expression. Her hand cups the back of your head, pallid claws settled gently on your hair as she guides you towards her and tenderly presses her lips against yours. A purr hum through her chest when she pulls away, the sound unsteady and weaker than the last time you heard it. But it’s there and her hand is on your cheek and Queequeg leans in to bump her forehead against yours, one of her braids coming free of the pale membrane.

“Mine.” You’re hers, and she’s yours. A peculiar, loving pair. By the time the crew returns with the captain in tow, nothing remains but a few veins of white infection and the crashing turbulence of foamy sea waves. Goodbye, goodbye. Farewell. 

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Garden - NSFW Version

Summary: Six years after the sudden death of your father, you return to his beloved home to restore it to its former glory. A series of strange events leads you to find a friend in a strange horse that appears on your property. Little do you know there’s more to this horse than meets the eye. 

Pairing: Kix x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, kelpie!Kix, minor character death at the start, grief, magic, shapeshifting, loosely based on folklore, cultural differences, no foreplay, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, sex in the rain.

A/N: This is the NSFW version of the fic. It's slightly longer due to the smut at the end, but if you would prefer to read the SFW version, it is linked down below. This was originally going to be a kinktober day but this story got a bit away from me and wound up less...kinky I'd say than I planned. So instead I'm posting it just as a monster/horror/regular smut fic. (though there is a bit of a praise kink at the end 👀)

MASTERLIST | SFW VERSION

It’s a day you’d rather forget. 

Your father had spent hours and hours of his time making the house perfect, making the yard perfect. He wanted everything to be perfect, but he’d never get to see it. 

It happened suddenly. You’d been the one to find him, searching for him in the backyard, in the labyrinth of paths and bushes and trees. You’d found him lying there in the grass  almost like he was taking a nap, but you knew him better than that. The panic that had risen in your throat was like nothing you’d ever felt, your scream heard clear in the house as you’d desperately tried CPR, but it was too late. 

To say it was a shock was an understatement. 

Now you’re sitting in the pristine grass he had mowed every other day without fail. His pride and joy was being tarnished by tents and plastic chairs. You tried to listen as some “mate” he’d had in college spoke about their time together, telling stories you’d never heard, referencing a man who was nothing more than a pile of ashes sitting on a table in front of the begonias he’d lovingly planted for your mother. She was crying into your grandmother’s shoulder, sobs wracking her body. 

But you don’t cry. 

Instead something is rising in you, something twisting, threatening to choke you. There were too many people, most of them you didn’t know, sitting in his lawn and tarnishing it with their heels and their shoes. He would have hated it, the holes in his golf course grade grass, the shoe prints that would no doubt be left imprinted in the grass thanks to the rain the night before. Footprints in the dirt of his precious gardens, trampling his flowers, squishing the only thing that mattered to him in this world beside you and your mother. 

You can’t stand it anymore. 

You don’t care that people stare as you get up from your seat, walking out of the sweltering tent. The sun is high, heating the ground beneath your feet as you take off running, losing your shoes in the process. You don’t care, feet squelching in the wet grass, then the underbrush as you force your way into the trees along the property line. You run through the trees, ignoring the branches grabbing at you, the leaves snagging in your hair, the roots tempting to trip you, tangle your feet and send you to the ground. Tears have blurred your vision now, running blindly, trying to get away from the pain, the...wrongness behind you. 

Finally a root jumps up and grabs you, tangling around your ankles, sending you to the ground. The mud is wet as you hit it, splattering on your black clothes but you don’t care. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, laying in the mud as you sob. You miss your father, you miss his quirks, the things you never appreciated before. The things you never paid attention to that you should have. The things you’d never get to do again, the things you’d never get to hear or see again. All the sorrow wells at once, the numbness of the past few days wearing off. 

A splash near you draws you from your grieving, your head snapping to the side, finding a small lake. You had no idea it was there. Then again, you hadn’t spent much time in the forest by your house. Your father had always warned you of faeries but you’d never believed him. Faeries were children’s stories. 

But the horse head staring at you from the lake has you questioning that. 

It’s black as night, reeds tangled in its black hair. It's submerged up to its milky white eyes, no bubbles appearing where its nose is in the water. You have to be hallucinating. The past few days had gotten to you finally and you were seeing things. That was it. Maybe you’d hit your head when you were falling and this was all just a dream. 

You stay still as the horse begins to move closer, its head rising up out of the water now. A low buzzing begins in your ears, rising in pitch until it almost sounds like...music. You’re entranced, staring at the horse as it stands still. Something draws you towards it, something tells you to touch it, not to fear the water but to jump in and climb on its back. 

The cold lake water startles you from your trance. You hadn’t even noticed you had moved,  kneeling at the edge of the water, wet mud threatening to suction you into place. It’s soaking your clothes but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your name being shouted through the trees drags you from your thoughts. You lower your hand, realizing it had been reaching out towards the horse. It’s gone, taking all trace of it having been there, not even a ripple on the surface of the water left. Maybe it had been a hallucination all along. 

Arms are wrapping around you, pulling you from the edge of the water. 

“Stay away from there!” A woman is saying, chastising you for getting close to the lake. Your head is swimming, the buzzing still in your ears. “Those waters are dangerous.” 

Something is wrapped around your shoulders, and you find you're shivering despite the warm sun above you. You recognize who it came from, the overwhelming scent of aftershave reaching your nose. 

You're led back to the house and taken inside. Your mother is there instantly, worrying over you. You numbly allow yourself to be led to the couch, Jeffrey sitting you down on it. He lived two doors down with his mother, and more than once had come calling on you with any excuse he could use to do so. You thought he was sweet, but that was it. 

Someone is speaking, someone else is handing you a glass of water. But everything seems distant to you. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were in a coma and this was all some sick fantasy brought on by delirium. 

You know that’s not the case. The brain wasn’t capable of thinking all these people up, all the things that you’d seen, all the people you’d met over the past few days were real. 

Your dad being dead was real. 

You sip the water, letting people fuss around you. Jeffrey is sitting next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders supportively. You’re still wet, the cold water grounding you, but it was also a reminder of what you’d seen. The horse in the water. How you had been so drawn to it, wanting to touch it, willing to walk into the lake to get to it. 

The thought scares you more than anything that had happened the past few days ever could. 

***

Six years. 

Your mother had held onto the house for six years. 

She moved you both to town, unable to stare at the work your father had put in. The constant reminders of him were too much for her to handle and so she’d run from it. You had returned once you had your own car. You had constantly driven past it, pulled into the driveway to stare at it. It looked sad, like something out of a fairytale. The outside needed repainted, the yard had overgrown, starting to take back the house as well. The garden your father had put so much work into and the bushes were all dead. It was like the forest was slowly creeping in, retaking the land as its own. 

Six years and you had finally graduated from high school, gone to college and gotten a useless degree. Six years to work up the courage to ask your mother for the keys, wanting some place to stay that wasn’t the cramped apartment rife with your mother and her sorrows. 

Finally it was yours. 

You start with the house, cleaning it up inside. It was dusty and damp after the six years it had been closed up. You air it out, sweeping and dusting every inch, making it shine, just like it had six years ago. The yard, however, was something else. Its glory was gone, shriveled up and overgrown from six years of neglect. You knew you could never return it to its full glory, but at least you could try. Spring is coming, the days slowly lengthening and getting warmer. You want to get it cleaned up so you can begin planting soon.

A few days go by without incident. You finish fixing up the interior of the house and begin on the exterior. Ivy has made itself at home on one side of the house, and it desperately needs repainting. The roof needs to be cleaned as well, moss growing on the side facing the forest. It truly feels like the forest had slowly been reaching out, trying to reclaim the land. 

For a moment you feel as if you should let it, as you watch the ivy peel back from the side of the house. What was the point of cleaning up the house? Your father is gone. He won’t ever see it again. 

You push the thought away, finishing your work for the day. 

It’s after dark when it happens for the first time. You had been making dinner after closing up the house when a low buzzing had started to sound in your ears. You look around, wondering if perhaps it’s one of the lights. You move around the room, standing next to each one, but the buzzing never changes in tone or volume. 

You flick the lights off, but the buzzing doesn't cease. The moon is out, illuminating the lawn as you stare out the window. Your lips part in a gasp as you catch a shadowy form standing in the long grass. You move closer to the window, blinking in shock. 

It looks like...a horse. 

Its eyes glint in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moon. A feeling of uneasiness washes over you, the buzzing in your ears feeding the fear starting to bud in the back of your mind. Your hand shakes as you reach for the curtain, quickly drawing it closed. The room is bathed in darkness and you fumble for the lightswitch, the buzzing stopping as soon as the light flicks on. 

You breathe in the sudden silence, your heart thudding in your chest. There was a horse in your yard. You turn back to the kitchen, trying to calm the fear gnawing at you. Maybe one of the neighbors had gotten a horse and it somehow escaped into your yard. There was certainly plenty for a horse to eat in the overgrown yard. 

Perhaps you should make a visit to the neighbors again. It has been years since you’ve seen them. You can let them know one of their horses is escaping at night. 

***

None of your neighbors have horses. 

You try to process the thought as you work on painting the exterior of the house. You had visited them the day before, making them known of your return to your childhood home. You had asked briefly about the horse, but you’d gotten nothing but shrugs and one strange look from Jeffrey’s mother. 

Perhaps it had escaped from somewhere outside of the neighborhood then. There were many farms all across the countryside. The horse could have wandered in from anywhere. Hell, the horse could have been a hallucination for all you know. A trick of the shadows. 

For all you know there was no horse at all. 

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, something in the back of your mind prickling. You get the sudden feeling you’re being watched. You turn on the ladder, glancing at the forest behind you. You scan the treeline, but there’s nothing in the thick underbrush. 

Your father had always warned you about going into the forest as a child. Forests are strange places, and while there were no large predators you had to worry about, there were...other things. The trees were tricky and liked to play games, making you get lost on purpose.

And the faeries. 

You had believed him, at least as a child. Then you brushed him off as you grew older. Faeries were nothing but stories and legends. 

Still, you never ventured into the forest. Something about it has always given you goosebumps, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight. 

You turn away from the trees, resuming your painting. You want to get it done and dry before the weather turns wet with the coming spring. You have a lot to do before then. 

The buzzing returns that night. 

You’re in bed this time, tucked away upstairs in your old room. It hadn’t felt right, sleeping in what was your parents' old room. Some of your dads stuff is still in there, and you don’t feel brave enough to start looking through it. Not yet. 

You had just been drifting off to sleep when the buzzing started, pulling you from the precious slumber. Your heart jumps in your chest, fear buzzing through you almost as loud as the buzzing in your ears. Your gaze turns towards the window overlooking the front yard. What would you see if you got up and looked? Will the shadowy horse figure be there again? 

Your breathing picks up as you hear the familiar creak of the porch steps. The front door is locked, you had made sure of it twice before you retired to bed, but that doesn’t stop the fear screaming in the back of your mind. 

Your legs are shaking as you rise from the bed, slowly tiptoeing to the window. You glance down at the yard, but you can’t see anything. The porch continues to creak, slow, heavy footsteps making their way around the side of the house.

You open your door, glancing down the hallway towards the stairs. You let out a breath, cursing the fact everything you could use as a weapon is downstairs in the kitchen. You tiptoe along the hallway, making your way slowly down the stairs. 

You stare at the kitchen window as you make your way to the bottom of the steps, the curtains thin enough you can make out something moving on the porch in the moonlight. You sink down, making yourself as small as possible as you hold your breath. 

There’s a horse on your porch. 

It’s unmistakable, its shadow illuminated through the kitchen window. You’re afraid, breaths ragged and shaky as you stare at the figure through the window. You wonder if it can see you even in the darkness. Its head turns towards the window, ears flickering. You hold your breath, the buzzing in your ears getting louder. 

It almost sounds like...music. 

A deep, sad song begins to come through the buzzing like a radio picking up a distant signal. Tears fill your eyes as something tugs deeply in your chest. The grief from the last six years comes back to the surface, the house suddenly feeling so large and empty. You want to escape, you want to run out the door. You can’t stand it, being alone. The house was supposed to be full of light and laughter and happy memories. It’s so cold and empty now. 

The creak of a board on the porch snaps you from your thoughts, your body halfway to the front door. You hadn’t even realized you had gotten up. You stumble back, racing for the stairs and back up to your room. You push your desk in front of the door before diving under the covers, putting a pillow over your head to try and block out the buzzing music. 

***

You let out a shriek as you leave the house two days later. 

Standing in your yard is a black horse. 

It’s just standing there, staring right at you, unmoving. Your hand is on the doorknob, ready to rush back inside. There’s no buzzing this time, no song. It’s morning, the sun coming over the hills. The world is damp from how cold it was last night. There’s no hoofprints in the tall grass, no sign of the horse trampling through it. You wonder how long it’s been there. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, feeling stupid as the words leave your mouth. You’re talking to a horse. 

Its ears flick at your words and it continues to stare at you for a moment before it lowers its head, starting to graze on the tall grass. You relax just slightly, your hand slipping off the doorknob. Perhaps it’s just a lost horse, come to graze on your jungle. The other neighbors all keep their lawns well kept, so you can rationalize why a horse would choose this yard over theirs. 

Maybe this was the horse you’ve been seeing at night too, simply making itself at home where there’s plenty of food. Maybe you’ve been imagining the buzzing, the music. Maybe the emptiness of your home truly is getting to you. 

Your foot hits something as you take a step forward, drawing your gaze downward. Sitting on your porch is a silver halter. You glance at the horse, its eyes on you as you bend down to pick it up. The leather is soft and worn, diamonds lining the sides and the nose. The buckles shine like new, and you wonder if they’re real silver. 

You glance back at the horse, finding it staring at you as it chews. You take a cautious step forward, then another. The horse doesn’t move, staying still as you make your way down the creaky steps. 

“Is this yours?” You ask, holding the halter up. 

The horse bobs its head before bending back down to graze. 

You blink in shock. Did the horse just...nod? You take a couple steps forward, closer to the horse. It’s big, tall and strong even with its head bent. Its coat is slick and shiny in the morning light, its mane thick and curly and long enough it drags on the ground when it eats. It’s a beautiful horse, and you can’t imagine someone just leaving it here. 

“Aren’t you...supposed to be wearing this?” You say, holding up the halter. 

The horse rears back, letting out a loud neigh as you approach. You stumble back as it moves away from you, staring at you with a cautious look. Your heart is pounding in your throat, short breaths puffing in the cool air. 

“Okay, okay.” You hold your hand out, your fingers trembling. “You don’t have to wear it.” The horse continues to watch you as you make your way back up the steps. “I’ll just...put it inside so it doesn’t get damaged.” 

The horse is grazing again when you step back outside, almost like nothing had happened. 

You watch it for a few moments before sighing. “I guess if you’re going to help with the yard you can stay.” 

You should put up a poster at the general store in town about the stray horse that’s made itself at home on your property. You go about your day, the horse contently grazing on your long grass, paying you no mind. It’s nice, not being alone, even if your companion is a mysterious stray horse that apparently understands you. You’ve always heard horses are very intelligent, though, so perhaps it wasn’t that strange it was able to answer you. 

You work on repairs outside the house until sunset, tired and sore from all the work you’ve been doing. You haven’t even touched the garden yet. You should pull out the lawnmower tomorrow and at least get the grass trimmed down. Make it look like more of a yard. 

You turn around, nearly jumping out of your skin as you find the horse right behind you. You hadn’t even heard it approach you, not even its footsteps on the stone path to the front door. 

You put a hand on your chest, taking a deep breath. “You’re a sneaky thing, aren’t you.” 

An almost mischievous look flashes in its eyes, so fast you almost don’t notice. Almost. You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as it stretches out its head, sniffing at your sweatshirt. You hesitantly reach up, resting your hand on its face. Its hair is silky and smooth under your hand, almost feeling faintly damp. 

It blows out a breath, pressing its face into your hand. You scratch its nose, a smile tugging at your lips as it moves its head with your hand. 

“It’s nice, not being alone.” You say, gently patting his head. “Things didn’t used to be this way. But, maybe someday they won’t be anymore.” You pat his head before pulling away. 

He watches you walk up the porch steps, and you take one last look at him before you close the door, locking it. 

You relax on the couch after dinner, your eyes drawn to the halter sitting on the coffee table. You pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It’s heavy from the diamonds, and you just know it has to be expensive. You turn it in your hands, looking at the other side. The leather is worn, which must mean it gets used often. It probably looks good on the horse, the silver contrasting its dark hair. 

On the back of the nosepiece is three letters embroidered in the leather. 

KIX. 

Are they initials? Or perhaps the horse’s name is Kix. 

There’s no other markings, no other indication of the owner’s information anywhere. You run your fingers over the soft leather again before you set it back on the coffee table, heading off to bed. 

***

The horse is standing in your lawn again the next morning. You’re less afraid this time, walking down the steps without pause. It watches you, its tail flicking. There’s something about its stare, those dark eyes watching you with almost human understanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, fear tickling the back of your mind again. 

You shove it aside as you pull the lawnmower out of the shed, sighing as you stare at the expanse of lawn you’re going to have to mow. 

You turn to look at the horse, its eyes on you. “There was a name on the halter.” You say, leaning against the lawnmower. “Kix, I think.” 

The horse bobs its head in a nod. 

“Is that...your name?” 

It nods again. 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Are you...a boy horse?” 

It nods once more, before lowering its head to graze. So that was his name on the halter. You still can’t help but wonder who he belongs to. Surely someone was looking for him. 

Kix continues to graze mindlessly as you mow the tall weeds and grass. As you said you would, you leave a small patch for him to graze on in the back of the house, away from the street and the front door. You know it’s only a matter of time before the neighbors notice your mysterious visitor. You’re surprised none of them have come knocking yet.

The day grows warmer, the sun bearing down on you as you mow the lawn, working your way in a circle around the house. You finish up back by the shed, shutting the lawnmower off before you collapse in the newly cut lawn, breathing heavily. 

Footsteps crunch through the grass before you’re staring upside down at Kix’s nose. His lips tickle your forehead as he sniffs at your head, your hand pushing his nose away. You push yourself up to sit, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“I don’t know how my dad did this, like, every day.” You say, running your hand over the short grass. “He loved his lawn. He loved his yard. He loved his garden.” You shake your head, staring at the tangled vines and dead bushes, the weeds that have taken over where meticulously planted flowers used to bloom every spring. “Now look at it.” 

Tears burn your eyes. You don’t have the skills your father had, the knowledge, the drive to make and keep the landscaping so beautiful. 

“It deserves so much better than this.” You say, shaking your head. “He deserves so much better.”

Kix nudges against your back, nickering softly. You sniffle, wiping the tear that slides down your cheeks. You knew it would be a lot of work, and you knew you could never restore it to what your father had. You could still try. You could still make it look decent. If nothing else, you could at least clean it up. 

***

Kix is there every day, greeting you at the porch every morning. He hovers behind you often as you begin to work on the garden, snacking on weeds and helping you clear bushes. As soon as you cut one down, he drags it to your trash pile for you. 

You talk to him as you work, telling him all about your family, your dad, your life after you left. You worry about your mom, but you know she’s doing what’s best for her, just as you are. 

Kix seems to understand you, not in the way animals do, but in a human way. It’s a bit unnerving sometimes, the way he looks at you as you’re speaking. You have little experience with horses, though, so you can’t be sure if it’s all that unusual. 

You like having him around. The house feels less empty, even if he stays outside. You haven’t had any strange experiences since he showed up, so you can’t complain. You had begun to question if coming back out here was worth it. Now you’re glad you came back, and you decided to stay. 

You get the garden and the areas around the yard cleared, everything looking so bare now. There were a few bushes still standing, Kix having pushed you away from some of them. You had left them with a shrug, moving on to others that were dead and crumpled. Deciding what to plant was going to be harder.  

You do research, looking at various plants that not only look good together, but also will be easy to manage. You’ll be spending a lot of money, but it’ll be worth it. 

Kix is surprisingly absent the morning your plants get delivered. You don’t see him until the delivery truck is long gone, and you’re hauling plants around the yard to their respective places.

In fact, any time you get visitors, he makes himself scarce, even when it’s the neighbors. It’s odd, but perhaps he’s just shy. You don’t blame him. You weren’t the biggest fan of all of the neighbors, but you’ve known most of them since you were a child. 

Jeffrey’s mother comes to visit one day as you’re working on planting some seeds for flowers. You invite her in for tea, sweaty and dirty but she doesn’t seem to mind. Kix is gone, having disappeared silently before she arrived. Sometimes he moved so swiftly and silently it almost seemed unnatural. 

“How have you been, dear?” Jeffrey’s mother asks you. 

You shrug, pouring the tea. “It’s strange, being back. The house seems so empty.” 

“The yard looks lovely. I’m sure it will be positively stunning come summer.” She says, looking out the window. “Your father would be proud.” 

A bitter smile forms on your face. “I’m sure he would be. I’m not nearly as talented as he is.” 

She turns from the window, her eyes spotting the halter on the table. She gasps, covering her mouth as she stares at it. “W-Where did you get that?” 

You frown, eyeing the halter before looking back at her. “It showed up on my doorstep.” You say. “With a black horse.” 

She rushes towards you with surprising speed, grabbing you by the arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone into the woods again! Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to that place!” 

“W-What are you talking about?” You frown at her. “I’ve never gone into the woods.” 

Her grip on your arms loosens just slightly. “You don’t remember. The day of your father’s funeral. You ran from the service like a sinner fleeing church straight into the woods. We found you out by the lake, right on the edge of the water.” 

Your ears begin to buzz with the familiar sound as images flash through your mind. You remember being angry at everyone for ruining your father’s yard. You remember running from the service, running through the trees. You remember feeling like they were grabbing at you, trying to pull you in all directions. You remember falling, you remember the buzzing sound and the horse in the water. The black horse with milky white eyes. 

“You must get rid of it.” She says, staring at the halter. “Do not go near that horse again. It will only bring you death.” 

You sit on the couch, staring at the halter after she leaves. Things begin to click into place as the memory of that day, the memory of what you saw, the memories of the strange events when you returned replay in your mind. 

Your father had warned you about lakes in the area, that there was a legend about shapeshifting horses that would lure you into the water and drown you. You had brushed him off, just as you had about other things. You know what you saw that day, though. You had nearly been a victim of one yourself. 

And you’ve been talking with it every day for the last few weeks. 

It hasn’t seemed like it wanted to hurt you. But it’s understanding of your words, it’s knowledge, it’s manner, even its eyes tell you everything. You’ve been spending every day with a kelpie. 

***

You leave the house the next day, halter in hand. It’s a foggy morning, colder than it should be. It feels fitting as you approach the dark figure waiting in your yard. You stare at its too human eyes, holding the halter tightly in your hand. 

“You’re no horse, are you?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest so hard you’re certain he might be able to hear it. “It was you that day, wasn’t it? You were going to kill me.” 

The horse blows out a breath, taking a step closer to you. You take half a step back, holding the halter up between you like it might protect you. He takes another step forward, stretching out his neck to nose at the halter. He wants you to put it on him, you discern. 

You’re not sure what will happen when you put it back on. He doesn’t look like that horse in the water without it, but will that change? Will he turn back into the murderous beast he’s supposed to be? He could kill you in this form. A well aimed kick would do the job. Why would he want to be in his other form to do it? Would it be easier? Quicker for you. 

Or perhaps the halter will allow him to communicate easier with you. 

It’s a risk you’re going to have to take. 

Your hands shake as you fit the halter onto his face, having to try a couple times to get it in the right position. As soon as you buckle it the buzzing begins again in your ears. You stumble back a couple steps, Kix shaking his head before he stares at you again. His eyes are milky white, his coat dripping with water as if he’d just climbed from the lake. You stare in horror as his body begins to contort, his bones snapping. 

You stumble back a couple more steps, your feet slipping in the damp grass, sending you sprawling onto your back as he shifts and changes, and suddenly you’re staring at a man. 

He’s tall and strong, rippling with muscles. Your cheeks grow hot as he steps towards you, damp curls falling onto his forehead. He’s naked, tanned skin on display, save for a silver chain around his neck. His eyes are dark, not unlike those of the horse. 

You scramble back as he squats in front of you, but his hand catches your leg, keeping you still. The buzzing becomes almost unbearable, pulsing in your head like a migraine. Cold skin touches yours as you screw your eyes closed, the buzzing beginning to quiet to almost nothing. 

“I apologize.” A deep, accented voice says. “I did not realize you were so sensitive to magic.” 

You crack your eyes open, staring up into deep brown eyes. He’s squatting over you, his hand on your cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, though he’s likely been out in the cold all night. 

“You....you’re...” You stutter out, staring up into his handsome face. He is handsome, his face like what you would expect to find sculpted out of marble in a museum. 

“I am a kelpie, yes.” He says. 

“W-Why....why?” You ask, shaking under him as he stares down at you with a mix of emotions on his face. 

“Let’s get you inside, then I will explain everything.” He says, gently hauling you to your feet. 

It’s possibly dangerous, allowing a kelpie into your home but you’re not in a state of mind to protest. At least this way your body won’t be laying in the yard for days, you think. At least this way you won’t face the same fate as your father. 

He’s shockingly gentle as wraps a blanket around you, sitting you on the couch. He’s still completely naked and dripping water and here he is taking care of you. Your face is still hot despite the chill to your fingers. 

“There’s a towel in the closet.” You say, trying not to stare at him. “A-And some clothes that might fit.” 

He nods, stepping away from you finally. You sink down onto the couch, staring out the window as he digs through the closet by the bathroom. He comes back a few moments later with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and sweatpants covering his bottom half. They were your fathers, the spare he kept downstairs in case of emergencies. 

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch from you, staring at you. You pull your knees to your chest, tucking the blanket tight around you as you stare back. You can hardly believe you just watched the horse you’d spent the last few weeks interacting with shapeshift into a human. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask, wanting to get it out of the way first. 

He shakes his head. “No. That was never my intention. Though, I did consider it briefly when you appeared on the shore of my lake. It is simply my nature.” He shrugs. 

“Why didn’t you?” You ask. 

“I could sense something about you. The deep sadness within you, and something else that I now know is your sensitivity to magic.” He explains. “I was curious about you. I watched you every day until you left. I waited six years for your return.” 

Your heart is still thudding in your chest. “You were on my porch.” Is all you can think to say. 

“Yes.” He nods. “I wanted to see you again. I tried to draw you out, but you were resistant to my magic.” 

“That’s why...you gave me your halter?” You ask. 

He nods, stroking the silver chain around his neck. “It is what gives me my power. Without it, I am hardly more than a regular horse.” 

“So...if I took that off...you’d turn back into a horse?” You ask, eyeing the chain. 

He nods. “Yes, and I could not change back until you placed the halter back on.” 

“Why...why did you wait for all those years? Why did you find me?” You ask. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, a soft look in his eyes. “And I was curious about you. My normal form was too much for you, and I knew I had to gain your trust, so I gave you the source of my power to do with what you wished. I would have remained a horse forever if that is what you wanted of me.” 

Your lips part in a gasp at his words. It sounds so very romantic from someone you just found out is actually a shapeshifting horse. You’ve known him for quite a while, but at the same time, you’ve only just met him. 

“Kix,” You swallow thickly. “I-I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

He scoots closer to you, taking your hand in his. His skin is still cool to the touch, even against your slowly warming skin. “I wish to be with you, if you will have me.” He says, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I will stay with you until you cast me out. If you wish for me to remain a horse, I will do so. You will carry my halter for all eternity, just as you carry my heart.” 

You flounder as you stare at him. It’s all very sudden, though you suppose the courting rituals of supposed mythical creatures is a bit different than a human’s. “This...this is moving very quickly.” You say, shifting so you’re sitting on the edge of the couch. “I...I considered you a friend, as a horse. It was nice having someone around. This place...it’s so...empty and lonely now. It’s like a void when it once was full of life and joy.” 

Kix’s arm wraps around your shoulders. “Let me help you fill that void. I will do whatever you ask of me.” 

***

You keep Kix at arms length as the weeks pass. Human culture and customs are foreign to him, and you find yourself not only having to teach him, but having to move him often. He likes to be close to you, he likes to touch you. It’s strange after years of distance and sadness. He’s eager to do anything you ask of him, sticking close to you almost every hour of every day he can. He only disappears every few days to return to his lake, usually late at night. He’s always back by morning, sometimes in horse form, but usually in his human form. 

He helps you with the yard, eager to mow it as often as you ask him to after you teach him to use the lawnmower. He does it with almost no effort, always leaving a small patch for his horse-self. He helps you with the plants as well, the flowers you’ve planted growing and blooming, and the bushes he’d pushed you away from while you were clearing things out beginning to grow back as well. 

It’s not as good as your father would have done. You still like to think he’d be proud, though. 

The spring rains arrive, bringing a steady downpour for days. It leaves you and Kix mostly cooped up inside for an extended period for the first time since he revealed himself to you. He begins to grow a bit restless, and you hear him sneaking off every night to return to his lake, or perhaps just to run around for a while. You feel a bit bad, keeping him cooped up, but he offered no complaint. He could leave if he wanted, you had made that clear, but he stays dutifully at your side. 

Things begin to change as the rains continue, the dynamic between you shifting. He stands closer again, hands lingering when he touches you. He sits closer to you, stares at you more. 

Things shift even more one night when you’re making dinner. He had been setting the table as you chopped vegetables for a salad when your knife slipped, cutting into your skin. You drop it with a hiss, watching the blood bead along the edges of the cut before sliding down your hand in a steady stream. 

He’s there in an instant, hands cupping yours. He stares at your cut and for a moment you’re afraid he might snap, he might change, his promises might go out the window. Were kelpies like sharks? Would they lose all senses of themselves in the presence of blood? You had done a little reading on kelpies, but sources were varied and contradictory. Of course, you could have asked the actual kelpie in your house, but you’re never quite sure how to broach the subject. 

He wraps the dishcloth around your hand before leading you to the couch. He sits you down before gently unwrapping your hand. The dishcloth is stained and will have to be thrown out. His cool hands close around your injured one, surprising warmth blossoming across your skin as he closes his eyes. The buzzing begins in your ears again, vibrating through your whole being. He brings your hands to his face, whispering something inaudibly before he blows against your hand. 

He slowly removes his own hands, and your eyes widen as you see nothing but smeared blood on your skin. Not even a line where the cut had been. The buzzing dies down to a quiet murmur, where it always was with him near. He wipes the blood from your hand and from his with the ruined dish towel. 

“How did you do that?” You ask, still staring at your hand in awe. 

“Magic.” He states simply, his breath fanning your face. 

You look up from your hand, finding him so close you can see the small imperfections of his face. The light stubble growing on his cheeks, the light smattering of freckles on his nose, the crease between his eyebrows. His arm wraps around your waist as he leans in closer, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. 

You freeze in shock, stiffening in his arms as his cool lips touch yours. You weren’t expecting it, and it’s a bit forward, but you don’t dislike it. 

He tears himself away from you, jumping up from the couch. He looks horrified, eyes wide and wild like a startled horse. “Forgive me.” He stutters out before he flings the door open, racing out into the rain. 

“Wait-Kix!” You yell, running to the door but he’s already gone, disappeared into the night. 

You glance back at the house before you take off running towards the trees. The rain pelts against your skin but you don’t care, the memories of your father’s funeral fresh in your mind as you break through the treeline, entering the forest. 

It feels as strange as it did that day, the branches and bushes and roots seeming to reach out to you as you run. You call out to Kix, but he’s completely disappeared. You pause to breathe, looking every which way, but you’re not even sure which direction you came from anymore. You’re not even sure he entered the forest at all. 

“Kix!” You call out loudly, starting to run forward again, hoping you’re going in the right direction. “Kix, come back!” 

A root reaches out and trips you, sending you into the mud. The canopy of trees blocks out some of the rain, but it still slips through, misting down onto the forest floor. You push yourself onto your knees, spotting a lake just through the bushes. You crawl through, ignoring the way the bush tears at your clothes and skin.

You stop at the edge of the lake, looking out at the water. It’s alive with the falling raindrops, your hands and knees sinking into the mud as you kneel at the edge of the water.

“Kix!” You call out again, crawling forward until your hands are in the water. “Kix, please!” 

It’s cold, the rain having soaked you to the bone. You’re shivering, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re not even sure this is the right lake. Nothing looks familiar, but then again, you haven’t been here in six years. 

The water begins to ripple, dark ears and milky eyes peeking above the surface. 

“Kix!” You call out. “Please...come back. I-I liked it.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “I’d like you to kiss me again.”

The horse sinks back under the water, your heart still thudding in your chest. A sudden horrible thought races through your mind. Was this even Kix? Was there more than one lake in the forest? Had you just signed your death warrant because of your foolish desperation? 

The water ripples, a familiar curly-haired head appearing from the depths as Kix slowly makes his way forward to the shore in his human form. He drops to his knees in front of you, the buzzing sounding in your ears as he cups your face. His skin is frigid, even against your own chilled cheeks. 

“That was foolish, coming after me.” He says, almost shouting over the pouring rain. 

“Why did you run?” You ask, shivering from the cold. 

“You did not kiss me back. I thought perhaps I overstepped. I thought you were angry with me, that you might throw me out.” 

“It surprised me,” You say, looking up into his dark eyes. “I-I wasn’t expecting it. But I liked it, and I’d like you to do it again.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You breathe each other in for a moment before he’s closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His skin is frigid and offers no respite to the cold mud seeping into your pants, or the rain pelting down around you. 

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You’re shivering, fingers and toes long having gone numb in the freezing rain. He moans into your mouth as you bite his lower lip, your tongue slipping in to tangle with his. His hands slide down to your waist, wrapping around you tightly. 

He lifts you, pulling you slightly up the bank before your back meets soft grass. You part your legs for him, his naked body slipping between them. The rain pelts down around you but you don't care, his hands making quick work of your soaked clothes. Despite your nakedness, the chill is leaving you as your body warms with arousal, his cold hands dragging along every inch of exposed skin. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” He says, nipping at your neck as his hands squeeze at your body. “So long for you.” 

“Take me.” You gasp, hands grabbing at his curls, at his body as much as he is yours. “I’m yours.” 

He lets out a content hum, pulling away only to pull your pants off. They disappear in the grass with a wet plop but you don’t care, laying naked in the dirt and rain under him. His cock is hard as he stares down at you, slick and laid open for him. 

Your fingers sink into the mud as he drags his cock along your slit. His eyes are dark as he stares down at you, lining himself up. Your lips part in a gasp as he presses into you, stretching you open. It burns, your hands pulling him down against you. You cling to him, meshing your lips together in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain. He’s so big, stretching you open as he presses into you. 

Your head falls back as he bottoms out, pressed entirely into you. Your body buzzes with energy, fingers sinking into his skin as the sensation becomes almost unbearable. 

“You can take it.” He moans into your ear. “You can take it. That’s it.” 

You clamp around him, a breathy moan leaving your lips. You feel him smirk against your jaw, his hips rolling against yours as he slowly begins thrusting into you. 

“Such a good girl for me, offering yourself to me like this.” He says. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours.” You gasp, walls fluttering around him at his praise. “All yours.” 

A low noise rumbles through his chest as he speeds up his movements, fucking into you faster and harder. The dirt at your back bites into your skin as your body moves from the force of his thrusts. 

“Kix!” You gasp, pleasure mixing with the buzzing under your skin. It’s becoming too much, warmth pooling in your belly. 

“Such a tight pussy, taking me so well.” He groans in your ear, nipping at the shell. “Going to cum for me? Going to cum around my cock?” 

“Yes!” You cry out, back arching against him. 

“Good girl.” He all but growls. “Going to fill you with my seed. Can you take it?” 

Your eyes roll back at his words, your mind hazy and buzzing. “Yes! Yes! Please give it to me!” You cry. 

His hips drag along your clit as he fucks into you wildly, your orgasm slamming into you. You cum with a cry, milking his cock as you writhe under him. 

“Yes!” He groans. “Yes, take it.” He slams his hips into yours, his hot release spilling into you. 

You groan at the feeling, toes curling in the mud as he fills you in the middle of the forest. It’s so carnal and wild, your body streaked with dirt and soaked from the rain. 

He collapses on top of you, his heavy body pinning you down. You wrap your arms around him, the warmth of your skin contrasting the chill of his. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. 

“Ride me.” He breathes against your lips.

You pull back to stare at him. “Didn’t we just-” 

“No,” He laughs. “I want you to ride me.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Oh, right. Okay.” 

He pulls away from you, stepping back into the water before his body contorts and cracks, shifting back into its horse form. He kneels in front of you in the mud and you slide onto his back, not caring that you’re naked. You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands, his hooves kicking up mud and water as he takes off running into the trees. 

You cling on for dear life but you can’t help the laugh that tears from your throat as the rain and wind whips at your bare skin. You feel happy and free for the first time in a long time. 

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[darlingdarkly]

Here’s a short little fear piece I wrote. Inspired (very loosely) by the movie Hush

CW: immense fear, blood, knives, Ghost is literally trying to kill you

This contains dark content! I am not responsible for your media consumption! Reader discretion is advised!

1.3k words

You don’t so much as round the corner as you crash, hips first into the metal garbage bins against the far wall trying to dip off the street and out of view as quickly as possible. You fall and a broken groan is punched from your throat as something hard and unyielding jabs you in the ribs. Your hands hit the ground in an attempt to catch yourself and they land in something that’s wet and smushes underneath your weight. A sour pungent odor blooms beneath your nose, burning your nostrils and you instinctively cringe away from it.

You don’t have time to check your injuries, though you’re sure you’re bleeding from at least one knee as you hastily pick yourself up out of the garbage and leap back into a sprint.

He rounds the corner just as you get to your feet. He’s tall, the street post behind him casting an ever lengthening shadow over you as he closes the gap. You sob and sniffle as you try to put as much distance between you and him as possible. You want so desperately to look back and see if he’s gaining but it’s a luxury you can’t afford; chances are you’ll just fall again and then the knife he’d used to slash your back with will sink its steely edge into your throat or your heart or your liver and then it’s over.

So you don’t look back, just scramble down the alley as the pounding of your heart and the soles of your shoes echo off the dense brick walls and berates your ears with their deafening boom. You stumble and nearly trip over your own feet scurrying away from him. The alley narrows and you pray to whatever deity will answer that this isn’t a dead end because if it is you’re fucked.

Your back stings, the tacky blood sticks your shirt to your skin and it pulls at the lips of your wound with every pump of your arms. Your left hip throbs and your lungs are burning, you’re worried you’re very quickly running out of gas. You won’t be able to keep this up much longer and now you fear you’re only prolonging the inevitable.

Your sneakers splash in a deep puddle, splattering foul water up on your shins but you hardly notice as you bang, face first, into a chain link fence that caps the end of the alley. On the other side is another lamp post and you dare a look over your shoulder to see he’s only about forty feet back.

You have no options, it’s climb or die so you mount the chain, fingers pushed through the links as you scramble up the side. The top seems impossibly high and you anticipate the arresting grip of his iron paws at every second. You get a leg up over the top and throw your body weight over the side, toppling over the edge and falling onto the pavement on the other side, there’s a curt wheeze as the air is punched from your lungs at the end of the drop.

You pick yourself up quickly and nearly fall again as you stumble back from the thin chain barrier separating you from him. It’s nothing but open street behind you and the ancient primal part of your brain is screaming at you to keep going but all you’ve done is run and he’s just kept coming. So you gather the last of your nerve in a desperate bid to appeal to whatever human compassion may still reside in the monster that’s been chasing you down like a sadistic beast for the last eight blocks.

You swallow harshly and it catches in your windpipe, making your first attempt sound like choked garbles.

“Please!!!” You swallow again but your mouth is dry and nothing goes down, not that the tight ball of fear that had become your stomach would accept anything even if it did. Tears cut wet paths through the oily sheen of sweat that had permeated your skin as they flowed freely down your face.

You force your gaze from the darkly gleaming street to the figure standing ominously in the shadows, just out of reach of the light. Like if he stepped into it too quickly it’d burn him like flame. Your breath hitches as he moves, stepping out of the pregnant darkness, polluting the light.

It’s your first good look at him and the glimpse of white mask you’d seen earlier turns out to be a stark white skull. Dark brown orbs peer out at you emotionlessly from the eye holes. He’s abnormally large, the breadth of his shoulders nearly scraping either side of the alley walls. The chain link fence creaks and bows with his weight as he leans forward onto it, resting his forearms just above his head.

There’s a bright golden flash as something metallic catches the arc sodium light and it glints cheekily back at you. You’ve felt its bite and now you get to observe its shape. A wicked downward sweep, reminiscent of a tiger's claw, with a pinprick point juts from one meaty fist. It’s hollow grind is still dripping with your life’s blood, the deep red of crushed cherries.

You try again and find it easier the second time around, though your pitch still fluctuates erratically. “Please!! Please, just go!!! I—“ Your hands tremble and you force them to your sides to steady your nerves, try to alleviate the shake in your voice. I h-haven’t seen your face. I won’t say anything!! Won’t even call the police I swear!! Please!!! Just go!!”

He’s eerily silent and you think for a moment that maybe he hadn’t heard or perhaps didn’t speak the same language as you. His head slowly lolls to one side, cocking at a near forty five degree angle and something about it makes your blood chill.

You’re paralyzed with terror as the hand not gripping the knife pulls away from the fence and bunches the fabric around the base of his throat in his fist before slowly but seamlessly peels it back from his face and pulls it over his head.

You’re left with the image of a dead pale face, marred by pale pink and crisscrossing scars. There’s a deep one cut through the plump skin of his lips, beginning just under one nostril and ending in the dip of his chin. There’s another bisecting one thick chiseled eyebrow. His nose is crooked, probably broken more times than he’d kept count. His jawline is strong and supported aptly by an impossibly thick neck. Wispy, arrant strands of hair gleam in the golden light, amplifying their natural blonde hue.

Despite his flaws, if it had been under any other circumstances you’d find him almost devastatingly attractive. But currently instead of devilishly handsome you only found him to be devilish and so held him with disgust and an inordinate heap of terror.

“Run.” It’s the first time you’d heard him speak and it’s almost too low for you to hear. The deep rumble of rolling thunder sounding over the horizon, a warning from a far distance.

“W-what?” His mouth twists into an ugly scowl, brow furrowing, nostrils flaring as he repeats himself, getting louder with each word, like a train whistle gathering steam.

“I said RUN!!” The last word he bellows, a roar that jumpstarts your legs and sends them into overdrive as you stumble back from the fence like his voice carried a physical blow. The chain link rattles violently under the force of his fist as he smashes it against the gate in unbridled rage. You turn on your heel and bolt for the mouth of the street, veering right and running blind as you pray you can escape his clutches on the second try, your life depended on it.

[bl4ckorch1d]

SHACKLE // Buckthorne Woods

Male Naga OC / GN! Reader

1.5k Words || AO3

Slight horror themes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The forest was almost deadly silent, an oddity for such a usually lively place. One place once visited by many turned abandoned acres. Though it wasn’t a mystery, the nation needed a specific place for the things they deemed ‘unsightly’ for their aesthetic modernized cities. It seemed not even the birds wanted to stick around, not wanting to become prey to either fangs or claws. 

Buckthorne Woods, a name known by many and feared just the same. It only seemed like a few years ago until the humans decided ‘monsters’ can’t roam free on their own free will anymore. Almost seems like they got bored of fighting themselves and moved on to a different area of the food tree. While the woods were certainly one of the largest in the nation, it still was nowhere near big enough to hold every ‘monstrosity’ that roamed the land; their population almost became cut in half due to this. Not much of a chance for a bloom either, while the forest dwellers stay among their own types and don’t fight with each other over land, most refuse to bring a child into such a hate-filled world. Some kinds are becoming almost extinct; mostly the less humanoid they look, the lesser their number is. 

A waterfall was all that truly broke the silence in this specific part of the forest, a beautiful sight almost no one will ever know exists. All that accompanied other than the lush forest greens was a small opening to a cavern, only lit by the sun shining into it.

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The water rippled against the paddles that ran through it, a canoe accompanied by a lone fisher. Setting your canoe under light shading, between the endless green that surrounded your figure. With the paddle set aside, you are in high hopes for fish above the average. With your dominant hand gripping your fishing pole, in a single swoop, you swing the line into the water. A small splash accompanied the bobber as it broke the surface tension of the water. The rays of the sun crack through the open spaces of shade, your skin embracing the slight heat. Eyes steady for any slight pull, you sit there tense. A slight tug on the pole, “Finally, a bite.” you hum to yourself. As you go to start reeling in, your body suddenly drags forward, slamming at the edge of the canoe almost tipping over. You try balancing yourself all while whatever was hooked squirmed around violently in the water, splashing and sending slight waves in all directions. Stubbornly, you began pulling back in panic and hurry, but all this action resulted in was a loud snap. Your back harshly hits the bottom of the canoe, as it sways from side to side. “Damn it”, you thought to yourself, “Should have brought spares.”, as you looked down at the snapped pole.

  At this point, your only goal was to find your way home after that experience. The river only went in one direction, and you swore you remembered which way you came from. So why did it feel so ominously wrong? Paddling through the water, you had expected to find the subtle tracks you left behind to get back out of the forest. The endless overgrown verdure shielded most of your view, but you could hear the heavy sound of water crashing against itself. You knew at that moment that you were completely lost. Your phone was rendered useless without an ounce of service, and the map you brought was drenched from the fishing disaster. The idea of making it back seemed like a pipe dream. It was late evening, and by the time you could even make it back to your fishing spot, the forest would be enveloped by complete darkness. Heading on towards the sound of the water, your eyes were met with an enchanting sight. A waterfall with almost crystal clear water in the pool below it, the scene looked straight out of a magazine. Looking past the constant pouring, there was a cavern hidden slightly beside the falls. Seemed to be your last resort for a place to reside. Paddling on, you dock your canoe as close to the cavern as you can without it getting completely flooded. Grabbing any salvageable supplies, you adventure forward to the mouth of the cavern. 

Nothing seems odd at first glance, a few spiders with their webs seem to be the only company you’ll have tonight. You drop your bag only a few feet into the cavern, far enough to be protected from the elements but close enough to still see outside. The cavern seemed to split into many tunnels further along and that just seemed like a horrible idea to adventure in your current state. Luckily your small blanket had survived the onslaught of water, a small comfort in your hellish predicament. If it wasn’t for the bed of rocks you laid on, you could almost trick yourself into thinking the waterfall was a sound machine when you shut your eyes.

◦ • • • • • • • ◦

Pains shot up your left leg, and you could feel the bile burning in the back of your throat as you lurched awake. Your eyes water as you lose the fight against your nausea. Choking as the last bit of bile makes it out of your mouth. Reaching for your backpack so you can fish out your thermostat to rid the aftertaste of vomit. Instead of the bag, your hand meets straw. You aren’t where you fell asleep. Panic rises in your system as you notice your left leg has swollen like a balloon and the leg beside it has a glistening silver shackle around it.  

You try to make sense of the rest of your surroundings. You seem to be at a dead end of one of the tunnels you spotted earlier. A small fire lights the area with the smoke billowing out into a tiny hole within the wall. If that hole led outside, it seems it is still night. You can’t spot your bag anywhere in the room, there wasn’t much of anything other than the small straw bed you laid upon and the small fire. Oh, and of course the shackle around your ankle that seemed to glisten as it taunted you. Yanking on it seemed to only deliver more pain to the opposite leg as you slightly moved. The chain connected to it was rooted deep into the cave wall, you’d need a jackhammer to even hope to remove it. 

Seems like you really should have listened to all the warning signs you saw at the entrance of the forest, instead of delusionally hoping no harm would have come to you. Now you lay prisoner to some mystery creature. Yelling seemed pointless as no other humans would be anywhere near the entrance of the cavern, and you couldn’t tell how deep you were into it. The noise would also likely attract whatever trapped you, but that almost seemed better than willowing alone in pain. So, you did as any white girl would do in a cheesy horror film and yelled out, “Is anybody there?” . . . A weird mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as silence was your only response. Not even the slightest rustle, only the crackling of embers. 

A sigh escaped your lips, almost masking the slight foreign noise just outside from where you could see. Nausea hits like a typhoon once you lay eyes on who you guessed to be your captor. A naga male, he could almost be mistaken for a model if it wasn’t for the tail that replaced where legs would be. “The rabbit finally awakens I see.” A silky deeper voice, one that overenunciated its s’ by quite a bit. His tan upper half shifted as he went to throw the sticks into the dying fire. Once he moved closer you could finally get a good look at him, his snake side resembling a ‘tiger snake’ with the black and yellow banding. A sharp jawline matched, with sharp golden brown eyes. Black hair tied messily into a bun. Could be worse, much better than some smelly goblin at least.  Your internal monologue was disrupted as he moved to you, getting closer to your swollen leg. “Suprised it hasn’t turned purple yet.” He let out a snide hiss as he poked it, his smile widening as you whimpered out in pain. “But don’t worry, it’s only been mere hours. It’ll swell much more by morning.” A prideful huff as those sharp eyes glanced down at you. He was obviously mocking you, and you could only grit your teeth in response. His hand swatting at you, “No need for that, I’m not going to let it get that bad dear.” The tone made him seem so condescending that you wouldn’t be surprised if he bit you again, right in the same puncture wounds. “Now, give me a second, don’t go anywhere!” . . . Maybe a goblin would have been better. His form quickly slithers out of the area leaving nothing but the sounds of embers once again.

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[sharks-n-bones]

MAKES MORE SENSE TO POST GUY DIAMOND'S LITTLE LORE/STORY FIRST SO THAT BEING SAID

GUY DIAMOND

- The Pop Trolls didn't realize the world was flooding at first. A nearby river overflowed but Guy didn't think anything of it. That was, of course, until the river didn't stop overflowing

- Then the rains came, and Pop Village started to flood. The village, Guy included, thought living in the tress would be safe. But the water kept rising, higher and higher, and the whole village had to relocate to higher ground

- Guy was nervous, but he managed fairly well. Once they got to a place high enough to last a week or two, the residents of Pop Village started building rafts and boats

- Everyone paired into groups, sticking together as there's safety in numbers. Guy and Tiny paired with Poppy, her dad, Branch, and the rest of the snackpack

- They all worked together and managed to build a decently large boat. It easily fit all of them and allowed them all their own rooms, with space to spare for more, if need be

- When they set sail, Guy was a bit nervous but also excited! He'd never been out on the water before like this, it was fun to think of it as an adventure! Tiny especially seemed to enjoy himself, which made Guy relax some. If Tiny was happy, so was he

- Whenever they found an island to rest and restock on supplies, the group/crew had taken to swimming and playing in the water

- It was easy to relax and float in the warm waves. It felt amazing on the skin and made Guy's hair and glitter sparkle and shine so brightly

- He was having a good time, relaxing in the waves with Tiny playing nearby. It was peaceful… until there was a splash, and he heard Tiny scream

- Guy immediately bolted up right in the water from where he was floating, looking around until he found Tiny swimming towards him, screaming about a monster in the water

- Before Guy could even react, a fish popped out of the water, latching onto Tiny

- Guy panicked! He immediately rushed towards Tiny, swimming as fast as he could to get to him, to save him from the fish. Tiny was so small, why didn't he think that a fish might try to eat him!

- The fish dove under before he could grab Tiny, and Guy immediately dived down after it. He couldn't let it eat Tiny, he could let that fish take his son away from him! He was only a few months old! He couldn't be taken from him so soon, he-!

- The fish was too fast, it's fins and scares were made to cut through the water like a hit knife through butter. Guy didn't stand a chance of catching them, but he couldn't give up! He couldn't!

- He dove after them, deeper and deeper, he was so tired he was running out of air and the edges of his vision were blackening but his son was being taken-

- An arm around his chest pulled him to the surface, and after he got a good breath in, he fought. He pushed and shoved against whoever was holding him, he even punched he had to save his son-

- It was too late. Tiny and that fish were long gone by now. There's no way he'd catch up. The realization sank in and he deflated, allowing himself to be dragged back to shore

- He stumbled when his feet hit the sand, unable to turn away from the waves where Tiny had just been playing and now he's gone-

- He sank to his knees. He didn't hear the voices of the others trying to console him, he didn't feel their comforting touches, he didn't feel the tears running down his cheeks and he didn't hear his own sobs

- He did, however, feel a cool sensation travel through his body, starting from his hair and working it's way down his body

- When he glaced down at his hands, they were grey and no longer shimmered in the sun, and he couldn't find it in him to care. What was the point of shining if he couldn't shine with Tiny

- They stayed at that island for another week, gathering what they needed, repairing whatever needed to be on the ship. They stayed another few days after to see if Tiny would miraculously show up. Guy never left the beach, and Tiny never showed

- Eventually Guy Diamond went back on the boat and they set sail again. He didn't sing and dance with the others anymore. He shrugged off their hugs. He helped when he could, helped Branch make some safety stuff when he had the energy

- But most of the time, he was holed up in his and Tiny’s — no, his room — and sat in his plush seat by his window, staring out at the endless sea, wishing Tiny would suddenly appear, safe and sound, asking what the plan was for the day

- He never noticed that he'd cry whenever he gazed out his window

- One day, they had stopped at another island. It had been weeks since Tiny… Guy had another nightmare about Tiny, and couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. Branch brought him some food and water and checked up on him, probably understanding what it's lke to be grey since he also used to be grey

- Guy didn't respond outside of shrugs and nods or shakes of his head. He thought if he spoke, he'd start crying again. Luckily Branch seemed to understand, and left him to it

- Guy had picked at the food and forced himself to eat some. He wasn't hungry, but he couldn't let the food go to waste

- After that, he mostly laid in bed and stared out his window, watching the waves while the others prepared to go ashore

- Suddenly there was a deep yell, a thud from the deck above, and an unfamiliar voice calling out something like “Baby Branch.” Looking out the window again, Guy spotted the front of another ship. Must be where the newcomer came from, he mused

- He laid there in bed, just kinda staring into space as he listened in on the conversation happening above. He couldn't make out most of what was said, but Branch sounded both relieved and irritated at the same time. No one was screaming for help though, so he assumed everything was fine

- Then, he heard another new voice. Another newcomer, must've been with the other new one. His voice was deep too, and sounded almost like-

- Guy's eyes welled with tears and he quickly squeezed them shut tight. That other newcomer sounded just like him… it wasn't Tiny, he knew that, he'd watched Tiny get eaten, but it still hurt to hear a voice so similar to his

- He couldn't make out what the other troll was saying, but he wanted them to stop talking. What kind of cruel joke was the world playing on him, bringing a newcomer on the ship who sounded exactly like the son he just lost-

- Suddenly the laughter above stopped, and voices turned somber. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the lower deck and approaching his room

- Were they really going to introduce him to the newcomers? Guy sighed and made no move to sit up, curling in on himself even more tightly

- A knock at his door. Branch’s voice. No answer. Guy didn't have the motivation to get out of bet, let alone talk to anyone

- Another knock. Branch’s voice. His door opening. Guy sighed, not turning to face him. He heard a couple gasps. Must've been the newcomers. Have they never seen a grey troll before or something?

- Then, the second newcomer spoke up. He called him daddy and Guy's eyes shot open. It couldn't be. He was eaten, Guy saw him-

- He called for him again, saying it was him that he's alive and Guy couldn't stop himself from sitting up to see if it was real-

- And there, sitting in a stranger's hand with scars on his chest and leg and a spear on his back, was-

- "Tiny!!”