#please like this post if you've read both! ★

[yuqiw]

| ABOUT ME | yuqiw ; gene | 18 | he/they | caard |

| STATUS | inbox : open ! | requests : open ! |

| NAVIGATION | rules | dni ; byf | masterlist (WIP) | taglist |

| RECENTS | When he First Kisses You (Diluc R.) |

[bvidzsoo]

Popular boys? Overrated ♡ (masterlist)

Urban Dictionary:

♡ Popular boy: Annoying assholes who think making fun of other people makes them cool. ♡ Overrated: When something or someone becomes too popular than others, and is given more credits than it deserves to be.

♡ Synposis: University? Stressful. Assignments? Too many. Social life? Above par. Boys? Disgusting. Popular boys? A total and complete headache. Sex? Optional. Sleep? Not so optional. But really...what are you supposed to do when you've got a hot guy up your ass begging for your attention? Nothing much but give in to him.

↳ Follow the two separate stories of our protagonists as they maneuver their lives at University while trying to avoid the two nefarious popular boys, Seonghwa and Yunho.

♡ Author: bvidzsoo

♡ Pairing: Park Seonghwa x female reader; Jeong Yunho x female reader

♡ Rating: nc-17

♡ Genre: 90's rom-com; University!au; Popular guy!au; Sports!au

♡ Status: on-going

🎧Playlist🎧

♡ Park Seonghwa ♡

📝Sugar on my lips: ˗ˏˋ First assignment ★ Second assignment ★ Third assignment ˎˊ˗

Summary: Besides looking pretty and acting dumb, popular boys were good for nothing else. Park Seonghwa, who you've known for over a year now, wasn't an exception. Obnoxious, eccentric, and a peacock, he seems to have an affinity of getting on your nerves. But when coincidentally you get paired up for an assignment, you happen to discover a different side of him. Is it possible you have misjudged him?

✫☼☾☁ ❝𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲…𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠.❞ ☁☾☼✫

�� Visual Board ♡

♡ Jeong Yunho ♡

🎭Under the pretense: ˗ˏˋ First act ★ Second act ★ Third act ˎˊ˗

Summary: What was supposed to be the best time of your life turned into something more bizarre and only slightly fun. Don't get me wrong, having to share your theater class out of the blue with popular guy Jeong Yunho, to most, didn't sound like the worst idea, but to you...yeah, you would've been more grateful if the principal found other methods of punishment for her son's misbehavior.

꧁༺ ❝𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲.❞ ༻꧂

♡ Visual Board ♡

A/N: Weeell, hellooo, surprise?? Total random idea with the most random plots, but here I stand before you, presenting two separate stories which happen in the same universe. They can most certainly be read as standalones, but fyi I will post them by jumping from Seonghwa's story to Yunho's and then back and forth. I most certainly will not start their stories until I'm done with my Mingi rockstar series, which will take a few more weeks, sorry for making you wait but...priorities. As you can see, I have a playlist that I will be updating with songs that remind me of our girlies, our main characters, as they will be girlbossing in their respective stories lol. I hope I'll be able to pull off the 90's romcom vibes, don't be too hard on me if I fail lol <3

Taglist is open and you can leave a comment on this post, please specify if you're interested in both Seonghwa and Yunho's stories, or if in only one of them! Kisses and I hope I have piqued your interest! <3 divider

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Kazutora x omega! Reader (smut)

— alpha kazutora's out of jail and he only wants one thing from his omega<3 (basically just sex)

cw: rough sex, blowjob (m!receiving), facefuck, cum swallow, light face slapping, name calling...

(I hesitated a lot before posting. it's my first time writing full smut, I read a lot of it but I'm not necessarily confident in writing it as it feels a bit awkward😭 but I had this idea and thought I had to share it! feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you'll like it!!🫶🏼)

my masterlist : ☆

imagine a fresh out of prison kazutora, who doesn't expect anything when he crosses the border of the prison.

he'll probably go to his place, it's been a long time since he's been there, he should do a lot of cleaning first.

but then you appear like an angel, wide smile and innocent puppy eyes, welcoming your criminal of an alpha. but you don't care what kazutora is, you've been waiting for him for so long, and you missed him and his touch so bad.

you're so desperate for him you couldn't even cum on your own without thinking about him. his absence felt heavy all this time and you're so happy he's finally here.

now you're bringing him to his place that you've been cleaning and maintaining like a good partner would. you already prepared a warm meal beforehand for him and kazutora has a hard time keeping a poker face.

of course he didn't forget you all this time, he's only been thinking about the day when he could finally get his hands back on his pretty omega.

and now you've even cooked for him when everyone else has most likely forgotten about his release. you're the perfect omega for him, absolutely submissive and loving to take care of your alpha.

kazutora is beaming and his hands are soon enough grabbing the flesh of your thighs, biting and licking every parcel of you exposed skin.

he's so fucking horny and you can sense it by the way his musk and pheromones are embalming the air. you're basically breathing nothing else but the smell of his arousal. and his pheromones, oh you don't think you've missed something more than his strong pheromones. they always made you feel dizzy and never lost a chance to remind you of your place.

and today as well, your alpha hasn't felt the touch of an omega for so long, it's only right as his omega that you submit yourself to his desire. and it's not like it bothers you either way, you're so eager to please, to prove to him that you can still satisfy him in ways others can't.

this is why you drop to your knees without him having to utter a single word. and without wasting time, you hastily unzip his pants and let his powerful pheromones hit your nose even harder. you take his big cock into your mouth, not even caring about the noises nor the mess you're making. kazutora likes it more when you're covered in spit anyways. so you suck and lick and kiss every inch of his cock, swallowing his whole length when he asks you to. the face you make when your pink lips are stretched by his aching cock, contrasting with your big doe eyes, any ounce of purity gone, all of this makes him want to ruin you.

kazutora doesn't last long before pounding into your throat, your gags being the only noise you both can hear beside his breathy moans. when you hear his soft praises, of how much of a good little slut you are, you can't help but want to please him further. you begin to fuck your face on his cock, your nose hitting his pelvis every thrust of your head and your nostrils only breathing in the smell of his musk.

your eyes are so wet, you can't see a thing anymore. there's a pool forming between your legs that's begging for relief, but you ignore it the best you can, focusing on your alpha's pleasure instead. and when kazutora proceeds to grab a fist full of your hair and go even harder on your throat, you're sure you can see stars.

you barely have any chance to breath and your jaw is aching so much, still you don't move an inch, your instincts fully satisfied knowing you're serving your alpha just like should.

and kazutora needed exactly that, your compliance and will to do basically anything to satiate his desires. and he swears he would go back to prison any day if it meant being able to use your throat as a flesh light each time as a welcome back.

you can feel his release is soon by the way he's clenching your hair even rougher it almost hurts. your eyes are rolled in the back of your skull and your mind is solely focused on his pleasure. everytime he hit the back of your throat with more power your gags are getting louder and louder. with his cock getting bigger and harder, you tighten your lips around it with more care and make use of your tongue expertly.

he finally grabs your head and grants you with a long and loud growl, he pushes your head and makes it meet his stomach, you make sure to swallow everything he's giving you, sitting still like the obedient omega you are. his salty cum is flowing down your throat and you're not sure when he's going to stop.

kazutora is very pleased and when he finally lets you get some air you're gasping and spit is drooling down your chin like a dumb puppy. your lazy eyes and lolled out tongue are kazutora's favourite and if he wasn't this tired already he would make good use of your sluty ass to cum a second time.

but he considers it as enough of a good round an lets you go, not without making sure you've swallowed every drop he's offered you first.

he scoops the little drops which went down your neck when you tried to catch your breath and gives it to you. he calls you a good girl and spits in your mouth to let you know you did a good job sucking him off and you're sucking eagerly at his sperm covered fingers, too dumb to understand a word he's saying anyways.

you watch him pull his pants back up and you feel a comfortable sense of inferiority being the only one looking so messy. and kazutora must feel it too because the next thing you know he's slapping you softly on the face and pulling you up with a warm smile across his face. taking care of you after a good session makes his alpha happy.

you're glad you could be of use to him and you find yourself purring loudly when he holds you in his big arms, covering you with his scent you oh so love.

after bathing you and cleaning you up, he's tucking you inside the nest you made beforehand. your throat is sore but you find the strength in yourself to chirp happily, kazutora's heart go crazy at the sound he loves so much. he can't feel anything but pure bliss and he owes it all to you, his delicate and perfect omega<3

[manicrouge]

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.

[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!

[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.

Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!

Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'

(I'm very sensitive).

HAVE FUN!!

P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.

Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Illuminated in the night, entranced by the tide, the sailors always come to you, such a mistake they make, too little too late, for they can never ever run. Foolish mortal men, sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den, for a woman in the sea is never just a friend.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.

The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.

The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.

A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.

Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.

Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.

'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'

It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.

Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.

To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.

You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.

During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.

They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.

Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.

Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.

How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.

The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.

The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.

'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.

'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.

It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'

'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'

'Even if we hurt them?'

'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'

You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.

By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.

You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.

You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.

It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.

They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.

You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.

Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.

In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.

Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.

Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.

Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.

Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.

You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.

Then, you hear voices.

It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.

Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?

Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.

One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.

No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.

Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?

No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.

As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.

You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.

It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.

As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.

Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.

Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.

Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.

Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.

It's at times like this you long for your mother.

But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.

'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.

The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.

'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.

'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'

You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.

It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.

Serelia.

'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.

Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'

Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.

Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.

'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.

Her hand disappears.

You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.

The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.

There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.

The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.

You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.

A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.

A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.

Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.

In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.

'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'

The current grows displeased.

'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.

She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'

There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.

You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.

The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.

There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.

His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.

His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.

Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.

From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.

Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.

'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.

The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.

'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'

'Sirens?'

'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.

It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.

Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.

'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'

'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.

The footsteps stop.

'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'

'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.

The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.

'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.

Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.

'Bloody lunatics.'

As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.

His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.

If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.

Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.

At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.

The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.

The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.

His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.

It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.

Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.

Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.

'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'

'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'

He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.

In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.

They're real, they're real and they have found one.

Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.

'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'

Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.

'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.

'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.

Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.

Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.

As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'

It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.

'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.

It's as though she's reaching out for something.

Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.

Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.

Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.

The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.

His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.

Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.

'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'

It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.

Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.

Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.

The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.

There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.

Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.

It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.

'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.

Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.

'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.

Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.

With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.

Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.

Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.

You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.

The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.

I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.

'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'

The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.

The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.

Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.

Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.

'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.

You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.

Your eyes grow heavy.

You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.

Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.

His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.

His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.

'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.

Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.

'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.

You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.

The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.

You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.

It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.

Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.

'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'

There's silence.

Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.

It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.

'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'

There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.

Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.

'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'

'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.

It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'

'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.

Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.

As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.

Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.

Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.

'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.

You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.

So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.

You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.

A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.

It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.

Is that real?

'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.

You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.

Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?

'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.

You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.

Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.

'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old

[k-tarotz]

New Readings + Upcoming Halloween Sale!

disclaimer: due to those being completely new readings, the coupon and the Halloween sale do not apply for any mentioned readings in this post, however all our old readings are eligible for this sale and coupon. Nightmare before Christmas is eligible for the second sale.

★ Nightmare Before Christmas

How it's like to spend holidays with your future spouse / bias

New years

Valentines

Thanksgiving

Halloween

Christmas

disc.: you can replace a mentioned holiday with another one if you want to

27,77£ - long version | 13,33£ - short version

★ Dark Romance

What horror movie trope would you and your bias be

The trope

Question of your choice [related to the topic]

15,55£

★ Blessed-Cursed

Does your visions match or clash with your future spouse; their expectations, vision of your wedding

Wedding theme > colors > small or big wedding

Moodboard

Future together after the wedding

Their family's and friends reactions to the wedding/marriage

20,50£

★ Backstage Pass

You've got a backstage pass to meet your bias, what happens when the camera is off and it's just the two of you?

Will you sign a NDA? [+ everything that happens between you two]

What would s/he think about you?

Would you guys keep in touch?

If yes, how would your relationship develop? | if no, would s/he tell the members about you & what?

22,50£

★ Pumpkin Spice

Messages from your bias - to keep you warm during the cold weather

disc: please tell us something you would say to your bias (doesn't matter how long or short) or tell/show us a gift you would get your bias

16£

★ 7 minutes in Heaven [18+]

Whatever lustful thoughts, desires and more comes through from your future spouse / crush or your next partner

15,50£

Halloween sales from 16th - 31th October!

𝐼.

Everything above 18£ will have 20% off

𝐼𝐼.

Buying 2 readings above 25£ = 1 stamp extra!

disc.: both readings need to be 25 or more, sale doesn't count if only one reading is 25 and the other for example 18

– Hun & Candy

[saddled-on-stars]

HI STAR IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN I LOVE YOU

May I pretty pretty pretty please request a bj and masc reader write? It can be anything from a short story to just hcs. (There's weirdly very few masc things?!) It can be super short, i appreciate anything! Thank you I love you 💗

STOPPP, I'M LITERALLY YOUR BIGGEST FAN-

AND OH MY GOD, THIS IS GONNA BE SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS ONE(S). You said either a story or hcs, so... I'M GIVING YOU BOTH DARLING-

IT IS SUCH A SHAME THAT THERE'S SO FEW MASC xREADERS FOR THIS. I hope that this brings you the joy that you need, because frankly, we all need a little bit of the bug-boy ;)

SO, MY DARLING, I PRESENT TO YOU A MIXTURE OF BOTH HCS AND A STORY. AND, YEAH OF COURSE, I LOVE YOU TOOOOOOO-

Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language [minor in hcs, average in story], Anxiety/Panic Attack [in story], Passing Out/Fainting [in story] -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Requested by: @juicy-beetle -- (GO FOLLOW THIS DUDE, HE IS LITERALLY SO AMAZING, AND KIND, AND JUST GO FOLLOW HIM- SHOW HIM SOME LOVE) -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Bug-Boy Headcanons - ★ -

You both share his striped jacket. Like, if you're ever feeling down, he'll just simply ask you, "Do you want our jacket?", and 99% of the time, you won't even have to respond before he drapes it over your shoulders, and plants a kiss on your cheek.

As said in an earlier post on my blog, he LOVES doing pillow fights with you! He thinks of it as his way of de-stressing from a long day, and he feels even happier when you win, brushing it off that he "let you", but you both know full well that you just have more skill :)

He has these big ideas and expectations for a perfect date for you, but he also knows that you like things lowkey, so he'll just casually have a hoodie and two game controllers ready for you and him, just so he can beat you in a little kid's game again (even though you both find it fun)

Whenever you're cuddling with him, he'll fiddle with the drawstrings on your hoodie. You swear he's like a cat fiddling with a ball of yarn, and he acts like it's the most interesting thing in the world. And what you love about it, and find quite cute, is that he'll randomly nibble on them too like a snack.

You LOVE his little musty smell. It's gross to other people, but to you it's nice and earthy. He smells like the woods in a way to you. Very forest-y. When he hugs you in greeting, to join with that "woodland scent", you'll tell him that he gives "Bear Hugs", which he never ceases to make you smile with them.

Uh-oh... He knows you're ticklish on your sides. So he'll randomly be coming from out of nowhere, or make sure that he's not seen when you summon him, and he'll make sure that you're laughing your ass off before you can tell him to stop.

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- - ★ - Nocturnal Nerves - ★ - Footsteps can be heard through your ears, soft and rhythmic on the hardwood floor of your living room. They're the footsteps of your own pacing, of course, but it's the last thing that you're wanting to focus on right now.

Sitting down on the couch, you rest your elbows on your knees, swiftly running a hand through your hair.

You look at the coffee table, the paperwork and documents scattered all over, including some magnetized to a whiteboard across the room.

It's been a long, LONG, day for you, as it's about 11 o'clock now. Your boss sent you home with what felt like ten pounds of paperwork.

Okay, maybe it wasn't ten pounds, but it was heavy to carry, the stack being about 8 inches thick. You have to organize everything and sign at least half of the stack, being contracts and documents.

Fuck, it's too much.

You've been at this for three hours, and you've barely made progress. The papers used to be organized into neat piles, and now you're lucky if they're even on the table and not on the floor.

Glancing over at the whiteboard, you see that the progress over there isn't much better. The magnets are scattered just as much as the papers are.

Fuck, it's too much.

You can't take it anymore. Even though you don't want to admit it, You're gonna need some help.

"Beetlejuice,-"

The usual large gusts of wind pick up in the room as you say his name, scattering all of your documents even more. It makes your skin crawl, and your knee bounce, and your hand run through your hair agai-

"Beetlejuice,"

The lights have dimmed to that familiar shade of bright green, as if he's already here in the room, just anticipating this moment that you say his name.

"Beetlejuice."

You release a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding, and you gaze around the room to see that the lights have completely gone out, making it pitch black, save for the streetlamp shadows through your window.

It's nice that the room was pitch black. You can't see the overwhelming papers, pens, documents, any of it. It's all gone into the sweet abyss of nothing.

"Its showtime!~"

The lights are back on, and back to their normal warm glow, and you glance over to see that familiar puff of green smoke enter the room.

He's standing there so damn perfect. His typical striped suit is worn over his body, and his hair is it's usual green, slightly tamed, but not entirely either. The faded green stubble covers his chin, and shows off his bright smile.

"Howdy there, Babe-", he says, but suddenly hesitating. His gaze cuts around the living room to see the mess of papers and pens and sticky notes.

"What fuckin' tornado happened in here?", he asks in a joking tone, with you being able to hear the smile in his voice.

You let out a breath, unable to respond, and Beej notices, turning his attention to you.

Your elbow is still on your knee, the hand running through your hair. Your knee is bouncing more than ever, and you can only stare at the mounds of papers on the coffee table.

You can't face him. You've tried, but you physically can't. You're stuck in your own spiral right now of how your going to get this all done before tomorrow.

Fuck it's too much...

I won't be able to finish this...

I'm going to get fired, dammit...

Beej settles in front of you, kneeling and sitting on his feet. He places his hands on your knees, trying to get your attention, to try and slowly draw you out of your current state.

You still can't focus on him though, your knee isn't the only thing that's changed; slightly less bouncy. The other change in yourself is your breathing.

No matter how much you look at Beej, no matter how much he's trying to talk to you, you can't focus on him.

Breathe in, breathe out. But you can't perform those actions calmly, as your breaths increase speed rapidly.

His lips are moving, as if he's trying to talk to you, but everything sounds muffled.

"Hotshot-...hear me?-... -keep breathing...", is partially what you hear, but you assume that you heard wrong.

Fuck, I'm going to get fired...

I can't afford to get fired right now, I-...

I-... I-...

Then, the room is black. ★ "(Y/N)-... Can you-... -me?... -awake?", is the first thing you hear. You don't know how long you've been out for, but your eyes begin to flutter open.

You're laying on the couch, it appears like, and your head is resting on a pillow against the armrest.

Something cold is on your forehead, a cloth, maybe? Beej is sitting on the couch sideways, next to your body, messing with whatever's on your forehead.

"Hey, Hotshot... You good?", Beej asks, concerned. His face is etched with worry, not something that you see very often. His hair is blue, mirroring the expression that covers his face.

"Yeah... I think so..", you reply, your voice a little deeper than usual, as your trying to sit up.

"Easy there, Ace, I'm right here, you don't need to rush.", he assures you, using the nickname that he only uses for you when things are serious. Only when things freak him out big-time, will he use your actual name.

You feel something over your arms. Oh. You're no longer in your business shirt and tie, but in your favorite hoodie. The one that has black and white stripes that Beej gave you.

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his torso, gaining what you've been needing all night.

Beej seems startled at first, but he returns the embrace by wrapping his arms around you, and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Need a cuddle-buddy?", he asks you with a genuine amount of concern for you. You nod in agreement, signifying that cuddles sound appealing to you.

He lets you lay on top of him, and wrap your arms around his torso. He's surprisingly warm for a dead guy, but you don't mind.

Your eyes open slowly, bracing yourself for the mental impact of the scattered papers, but you open your eyes to find everything organized in neat piles on the coffee table, the amount of things on the whiteboard minimized.

You're shocked. When did you get all of this done? Oh, you didn't.

Now, there's all of the other papers organized and in a few separate piles, and then a small pile on the corner of the coffee table of stuff that needs to be signed.

Moving your head to face Beej's, he's looking down at you with a smile, as he runs his hand through your hair, knowing it helps you calm down. You lean into his touch, letting out a soft sigh.

"Did you do this, Beej?", you ask him with a slight tone of happiness to your voice, still it's natural deep tone. He nods in response.

"Yuppers, Hotshot! All you gotta do now is sign the stuff on the corner of the table, and you're all set to take it to ya' boss!", he says with a proud smile.

You lean up, and kiss his cheek in thankfulness, the stubble tickling your chin. "Thank you, Beej.", you say softly, pulling back to look at his face.

He doesn't respond, but pulls you into a kiss, letting his arms wrap around you.

Maybe this all isn't too much anymore...

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[freckled-koi]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒓

summary: you've known gojo since your training days at jujutsu tech. you were inseparable - as thick as thieves. so, what happened?

pairing: satoru gojo x reader (feat. nanami x reader).

cw: angst, emotional manipulation / mental spiral, mature themes. 18+ / minors dni.

wc: 3k+

a/n: third chapter = posted! this one is much shorter, but has some fluff with nanami and i kinda like it a lot heh. slowly but surely!

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

if you haven’t already, please check out the previous chapters located here, and also here on ao3 for easy access!

003.

“And then– Then, he just says, ‘Come over to my place’. Like–” You throw your hands up with the tongs in one hand still, hardly paying much attention to the grilled meat in front of you.

“-- Like what makes you even think I would say yes to that?! Just a ‘come over to my place’! No ‘sorry Y/N for not talking to you in months’; no ‘I’m so sorry for treating you like dirt beneath my feet’.”

Explaining the moment and even going as far as to mock the way Gojo speaks to you, really read into the moment about how much it bothered you.

The momentary rambling you do doesn’t phase Nanami when he sits across from you, sleeves rolled up after shedding the suit jacket and loosening his decaled tie once the two of you had been seated and ordered. The drive over was silent for the most part, especially when you were just reveling in what happened in your office after Nanami had stepped in, but he let you soak in it for a while.

It was up until he could tell it was still bothering you when you both sat down, he inquired about it, and you opened the floodgates to unload every minute you could recount the moment you had walked back to your office.

“God, Kento, it’s as if he doesn’t care about how I feel or whatever I say, he just thinks he’ll get what he wants by acting the way he does! I mean, come on, you’ll have any girl fall at your feet if you even give her the attention you do to get what you want, but me? ME? He knows how much that shit bothers me, so I don’t know why he does it!”

Nanami had already shed his glasses amidst the conversation, pouring himself another shot of sake provided for the both of you. He’d already taken one when you began the rundown, but he needed another with just how much he was hearing. He even went as far as pouring you a shot, taking it with steady hands in the middle of your rambling to swallow down.

There’s a heavy breath that leaves you after the drink, staring down at the grill between the two of you before he’s offering his hand to take the tongs from your hold, to which you acceptingly choose to do.

You grow quiet for a moment as he turns the meat over onto its side carefully, expelling a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t even say no.” You murmur, leaning back into your seat with your arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you?” Nanami inquires, peering up from his work at the grill to watch you, your own gaze lifting from the table to meet his own. His words weren’t meant to be demeaning, the question alone just wanting more insight.

“I.. I don’t know, he just– He wasn’t asking. He didn’t even ask. He just said it. I mean, I told him I already had plans, but he saw through that–”

Nanami’s lips purse for a slip second before his facial features relax back into that stoic expression of his, contemplating his next words that don’t come for a while.

“You might have to consider the following,” He starts, your frame shifting to have you sit up a bit straighter as he speaks, attentive to his words.

“Satoru is more or less on edge with Suguru Geto still at large with his genocidal mission and going under the radar, where we can’t find him unless we’re lucky enough to have some intel. Considering your history with him, and how much he held with you, maybe.. What had happened with the two of you months prior might have something to do with it.”

You draw your lips inward in thought to it, brows knit together.

“He might want to reach out to you in a way that’s more personal.”

“It worries me, Kento. Just.. The last time we were alone together, it– It wasn’t..”

You struggle to explain it, even stumbling over your words that have Nanami a little taken back. You digress, sighing out of frustration to it as you give up on explaining it entirely. Nanami would have a better understanding on why you rejected the idea of being in the same room with him in present day, but you decide to put it to rest. Eventually, he reaches to place a few pieces of the meat that were cooked to completion onto the plate adjacent to you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me earlier today.”

Nanami’s brows raise slightly.

“About.. Not giving Satoru so much grace if I know how he is.”

There’s a low hum that emits from the man across from you in acknowledgement, setting the tongs down as he’s pouring another drink for the two of them.

“I.. might have spoken out of turn when I had said that to you, and my apologies for doing so, Y/N. If what I said swayed you to think otherwise..”

“No, Nanami, it’s okay.. Really,” You say with a quiet laugh leaving you, picking up your glass after the pour that you mutter a ‘thank you’ to, sliding it back over to you. “It’s.. giving me more introspection. A reality check, you could say.”

You say the last sentence with a bit of playfulness in your tone to lighten the mood once more, something that Nanami slightly smiles at. You catch that smile again and it makes your stomach tighten having to see it, and you can’t help but smile at it either.

“I should be apologizing to you actually. I can’t believe you’d just let me sit and ramble on and on about Satoru Gojo, considering how much you feel about him.”

“Like I had said before and I’ll say again– I’d be a fool not to care. Any decent man–”

“--Would want to be worried, yes, I remember~” You chime just as you’re taking a full swig of your drink.

Nanami does the same, smile stretched just a little bit larger than the one you pulled out of him.

Maybe you had too much to drink.

Nanami was good at holding his liquor, but you could tell he was just a bit buzzed by how much the two of you were slamming one bottle after another. You lost count at that point.

Walking out of the restaurant, you almost stumble a bit, and Nanami is quick to take a steady hold of your shoulders, even going as far as to loop your arm onto his own.

“Hold onto me for now.”

You hum in approval, making sure to have a decent grasp on him as you walk, your feet hardly finding stability at first but with Nanami’s guidance, it was slowly getting there. You were both dropped off by an associate to get to the restaurant, since cab fare was fairly high these days, Nanami decided just to walk you home before making his way home as well. It was on the way, and he didn’t want you walking home alone at this hour.

The way Nanami was taking care of you after the meal was heartwarming to you. Knowing Nanami’s nature, he showed genuine care underneath that stone-cold countenance he wore. There were things he was completely sick of and dejected, but there was still a few ounces of care left in him that he would show in his actions. This was one of those moments.

Granted, he voiced his care towards you a couple times today, and even days before that in little doses you were well aware of.

Even at the thought of it, you mindlessly lean your cheek against his clothed bicep, eyelids lowering and feeling that dizziness wrack your brain to your intoxication. It’s when you do this, Nanami’s grip on you stifles in tightness, but becomes more secure. You’re surprised when he doesn’t retract to the feeling or even nudge you. Maybe your drunken state was playing mind games with you, almost swearing you could feel an inkling of him subtly brushing back into it.

It’s quiet for most of the walk home, but the moment you retract slightly to catch a glance at Nanami, he’s eyeing over the dazzlingly elegant watch he fashioned on his wrist before meeting your gaze.

“Did you make your decision?” He inquires, your brows knitting together.

“Is it late..?” You peer over to his watch, hardly catching the time as he lowers his hand.

“Half past 7.. It’s not too late.”

“Mn.”

You sigh out heavily, finally finding your footing and shifting just a bit to create a little bit of space between the two of you, even when you were still holding onto Nanami’s arm.

“I feel like I’m a little too intoxicated to handle Satoru’s mysteriousness right now, so I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Shower when you get in. Maybe that’ll do you some good, clear your head up a bit.” Nanami suggests, your gaze still lingering on him. “If you feel like you shouldn’t after a moment of clarity, then you can make a decision.”

It’s then when you finally reach home, standing in front of your apartment complex and Nanami ever-so gently lets go of your arm, carefully steadying you even when you sway once more. You face the much taller man, eyeing over his stature before you flash him a soft smile, that was probably more lazy than you had wanted to translate.

Nanami mirrors the smile back with one that held so much weight, it made your chest tighten just a smidge.

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” He says lowly, retracting his hands only to lift one to gently place his larger palm at the top of your head to caress. The touch was comforting, and you weren’t sure if it was the booze or the affectionate gesture coming from Nanami, but you could feel a slow wave of warmth wash over you.

This was a newer side to Nanami that you were tapping into, and you never thought for a second he’d give it to you. Especially when you were rambling about your situationship with Gojo. Even after all of that, he still showed you the tenderness you deserved.

Feeling his hand leave your head, he now tucks his hands into his tan trousers, nodding towards the building.

“Maybe next time when the circumstances aren’t what they are, we can spend time like this together again.” Nanami says.

It’s enough for you to smile a bit more timidly to the suggestion, hiding back the grin you were wanting to show brightly to it. More time with Nanami would do you more good than anything.

“We can. No worries about that.” You say almost a little too confidently, earning a laugh from Nanami before he’s giving a slight bow of his body.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Nanami. Be careful on your way home.”

Saying your departures, you turn to head into your building, and you can feel the eyes on you watching until you made it in and Nanami is making his way back to his place for the night.

Showering was the last thing you wanted to do, but Nanami having suggested it, you decided it would be fair to take his advice on this one.

It was already reaching 9 o’clock on the dot the minute you step out of the shower and dress yourself into more comfortable loungewear than the work uniform you adorned, towel drying your tresses as you stare at the clock on the wall in the living room.

You were still a little buzzed, but your mind was definitely much clearer. Now, you’d have to really decide if going over to Gojo’s was really going to be worth it.

You can’t help, but recall the conversation you had in your office for probably the tenth time tonight, replaying his words constantly.

You begin weighing the pros and cons.

The pros would be you get a chance to hear Gojo out, communicate what had been going on, maybe get an apology out of him and the connection you held with Gojo could begin to build back up again.

The cons were you didn’t want to find out. You didn’t want to be disappointed in the complete opposite. What if he came back with something akin to saying he can’t be around you anymore, or even blame you for not trying hard enough to restore even their companionship?

The unknown was always unsettling and filled with discomfort, but if you just knew what was going on in that big head of his, maybe things would be better. Not knowing was the worst; not knowing would only drive you to overthink and settle deeper into that discomfort and sadness you were holding previous to when he spoke to you for the first time in months in your office.

You groan loudly.

“Fucking idiot.” You grunt as you toss the towel into the nearest hamper and begin gathering what you needed to head out. You weren’t sure if the derogative that left you was aimed towards Gojo or even yourself, it just happened to slip out when you made your final decision.

It’s quite a walk to where Gojo’s home resided, so you had to bite the bullet and just pay a cab to get you across town. That was one thing you’d at least hope Gojo would compensate you for.

As soon as you arrive, you head into the complex he was located in. It was like you remembered the way there, like the back of your hand. It was a place you frequented often, so the short months of not being able to do this, just came back to you naturally. Of course, his flat was on the highest floor in the building and you subconsciously rolled your eyes to it. Nothing ever changed with just how flamboyant Gojo was in other aspects, especially when it came to money. He had it, might as well flaunt it, you suppose.

There’s a hesitance in your walk the more you grow closer to his door after stepping off the elevator, already having second thoughts about doing this.

Maybe you shouldn’t be here right now; maybe this was a mistake.

He said it himself, if you didn’t show up, he’d get the message.

But here you were.

Turning back would be a little foolish — you brought yourself all the way out here to what, not get any answers?

Maybe getting a form of closure would do nothing for you in the end.

It’s like mental gymnastics the more you dwell on it, already finding yourself in front of his door before you’re reaching out to ring his doorbell.

As if it’s clockwork, it doesn’t take much time before the door is swinging open and Gojo appears behind it, standing there shirtless. He fashioned just a pair of gray sweats, and your eyes flit up his frame before it’s settled on the glistening facial features, even his slightly dampened hair.

The white haired man’s tiers stretch into an appeased smile, leaning into the doorframe as he stares over your appearance before him.

“I was wondering when you’d be here. I mean, I could see you were thinking a little too hard through the wall—“

“Can you.. put a shirt on?” You say with a hint of annoyance in your tone and he only laughs at that. Typical response.

“I just got out of the shower, please. Plus, this is my home. I don’t have to put a shirt on for anybody.. Honestly, I think they’d want to see me shirtless even if I did~”

All you give is a roll of your eyes, and it’s enough for him to lift his arm and push the door further open for you to enter, a little too smitten by the reactions he gets out of you.

“You can come in, Y/N. I’ll go put a shirt on too, if you so badly want me to~”

“Yeah, yeah.” You comment just as you’re stepping into his apartment and the door closes behind you, hearing the mechanism of the locks for it after.

Jesus Christ, what were you doing?

[little-pup-pip]

About Pip!

First of all, Hello! Hi! Welcome! My name is Pip! You can also call me Cass if you'd like! I'm agender and I go by all pronouns! Use whatever! I don't care!

If you didn't know, I'm an age regressor! I'm typically around 2-4. I'm also a puppy regressor! Both of these are SFW.

Onto some fun facts! My big age is 19, My favorite color is red! But I like all bright colors. I have ADHD, which makes me a bit of a scatterbrain at the best of times. I'm a university student, and I started college courses when I turned 13! I have several cats! My immune system barely works! And finally, I love talking to people! Feel free to message me whenever!!

For those interested, my banner was by revauri and my pfp is by Tokki who are both here on Tumblr!

Also, this is a sideblog! Basically, I can do everything a normal blog can, except for following people. I can only do that on my main account, which is NOT strictly SFW, so most people I'd interact with here won't want to be followed by that account. Long story short, I can't be mutuals with anyone.

★ Next, and the most important part of this whole post, my DNI list. PLEASE Dni if

You're not cool with lgbtqia+

You're an NSFW account/sexualizer of agere, racist, sexist, map, zoo, etc

You're going to bring hate here

Finally, my interests!! I play a lot of videogames! Animal crossing, Minecraft, spiderman, hades, baldurs gate 3, stardew valley, Mario Cart + so many more! I also like a lot of shows, of course Bluey, Hello Kitty and Friends Supercute Adventures, Adventure time, Winnie the Pooh, octonauts, puffin rock, and a bunch more shows too!! I also watch some Vtubers! Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you for reading mwah <3

[creepy-crawly-connoisseur]

For my first post i thought id start with a relatively popular bug,

The woolly bear

Pyrrharctia Isabella

The woolly bear, Also known as the woolly worm, is the larval stage of the Pyrrharctia Isabella, or the Isabella tiger moth.

The wooly bear can be identified by its black and orange colors, and its “fuzzy” look, whereas the Isabella tiger moth can be identified by its dull yellowish orange coloring and sparse black spots on its wings.

The wooly bear is commonly found in cold weather around fall when it hatches from its egg and “hibernates” through winter by freezing its mass. It does this by producing a cryoprotectant in its tissues (in simpler terms, it freezes its organs and body until spring when it thaws and eventually becomes the Isabella tiger moth). This is why in the winter or late fall you may find a woolly bear thats super stiff, dont worry! its not dead, just hibernating!

As for food, when caterpillars they have chewing mouthparts and eat a wide range of plants, including dandelions, goldenrod,clovers, some grasses, and more, and As moths, they have siphoning mouthparts (proboscis) and drink the nectar from flowers.

They have many predators, like mantids, birds, some small mammals and parasitoids like tachinid flies and braconid wasps

Although moths and their larvae have a bad rap due to species like the gypsy moth, the woolly bear does little to no damage, feeds wildlife, are relatively harmless, as they do not bite or sting. Although you should be cautious if handling a woolly bear as their bristles can cause rashes, especially if you have sensitive skin.

Fun fact: they spend about 90% of their life frozen and are the longest lived caterpillar species on the planet

Personal bug rating: 5/5 ★★★★★

One of my favorite moth species due to how cute they are and how easy they are to take care of

(Do keep in mind this rating is just my personal opinion, you can feel differently about the wooly bear/the Isabella tiger moth, There is no correct answer for how to feel about bugs!)

Thanks for reading and happy bug spotting! if you've got any questions or just want to chat bug stuff feel free to comment or dm me!

If i missed something or messed up a fact please comment and correct me!

Credits:

Both Dividers are from @strangergraphics-archive

[dunnkop]

𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 & 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍[𝙰. 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚊]

3,474 Words

Warnings:

-+Graphic Depictions of Self-Harm

-+Suicidal Thoughts

!PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!

A/N: I'm so sorry this took fucking-for-EVER. I've done so much editing on this its not even funny.

Cross-Posted To Ao3

dunnkop

★彡 -------------------------------------------- 彡★

Aizawa hasn't seen you in days. It was beyond concerning, you always came to work, even sick when Recovery Girl would have to physically push you back to your apartment.

So why in the ever-loving-fuck were you not coming?

★彡 -------------------------------------------- 彡★

Aka. You stop going into work and Aizawa gets worried and- with good intentions- confronts you

But it doesn't go quite as expected

★彡 -------------------------------------------- 彡★

Aizawa hasn't seen you in days. It was beyond concerning, you always came to work, even sick when Recovery Girl would have to physically push you back to your apartment.

But even now with the dorms you have come down with ‘the flu’. He wasn't buying it. You've only been sick twice in the 9 years you've been working at UA. And both times it was you in the hospital kind of sick- not something that passed within days.

So why in the ever-loving-fuck were you not coming? He knew something was off, the teachers dorms were more like individual apartments, small kitchen and living room space with a bedroom and bathroom off of it. That was a perk of living at the dorms, close quarters with the school but also private areas entirely…

Hizashi had been trying to coax you out too, but he was unfortunately met with a brick wall as well. You'd left the lock to the dorm unkeyed, but the one on your bedroom door was certainly in use.

Shouta was sick of the no contact, he hated seeing the person he was close to sick. Although he would never tell anyone that you were- close. That was a secret he was prepared to carry to his grave. But your lack of communication even through text was also terrifyingly unsettling.

Aizawa was fully aware of the media- and how much attention you've gained recently after operating to save Eri. In that way you two were similar, wanting to stay underground and not garner too much attention. He was also aware of your past experiences with media and interest groups, always too pushy and touchy. 

What he didn't know was how bad your mental state is, has been.

The hero was fed up with your refusal to explain to anyone. Finally taking matters into his own hands, he stood outside the door of your dorm for 2 hours. He'd seen you leave earlier today, and had full intention of confronting you.

“Hey.” He said sternly, peering at you from the side, where he stood leaning against the wall. You froze, a bead of sweat running down your cheek at the sight of the Erasure Hero, already knowing with that stern and defiant look in his eye he won't let you off easily.

“Aizawa, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You said, voice wavering just slightly.

“Don't Aizawa me.” He growled. “You've been ignoring all of us. And I want to know why you're ‘sick’.” Shouta mocked, bringing his fingers up to form air quotes. He knew a lie when he saw one.

And you were lying through your teeth.

“Shouta, I came down with something and don't want t-to get the kids sick…” You hiccuped, silently cursing yourself out.

“Don't bullshit me.” He hissed out your name, walking up to take the bags from your hand. Shouta didn't obviously look at them, but he caught sight of something disturbing.

Razors, gauze, ointment, medical tape, blank paper.

He didn't know how to feel about the fact that there was no shaving cream in the bag.

“I'm not bullshitting you Shouta!” You hissed, grating your teeth in frustration. Why wouldn't he take you seriously? 

Maybe you didn't want him to. Maybe you wanted someone to notice- for him to notice. Maybe you didn't. Maybe you just wanted to carve out your arms until it made a beautiful, bloodied picture. There was enough skin a-

“Uh-huh, get the fuck inside, we're having a chat.” He snarled, snapping you out of your trance. You stood there, shocked by the vivid picture you'd painted in your head for a moment. Suddenly, the black haired man grabbed your wrist aggressively.

“Fuck-!” You swore abruptly, the warm, hot liquid soaking your wrist quickly. The slice of pain was gone almost as quickly as it came, but the stickiness in your sleeve and the pounding of your heart told you that it was more than a little tug.

Aizawa let go in an instant, looking at you in confusion. “Get in.” He muttered, a darkened look in his gorgeous gray eyes. Not wanting to risk him unintentionally putting the pieces together, you walked into your dorm without another outburst. Flipping the switch you caught sight of what you'd left on the counter.

Shit.

Just as you went to remove the sharp object from his view he shouted at your back.

“Put it down. Now.” His voice was deep and threatening, he'd seen the razor, what made it worse was there was a stain on it.

Red

Would he stop me?

Should I?

I want to…

He’s mad…

He doesn't understand…

He doesn't care…

“Put the razor down and take your shirt off.” Shouta murmured gently- a stark contrast to his angrily deep voice from moments before. He set the bag on the counter, turning to you- who stood mere feet away. “Stop hiding it, it's obvious now.” His voice was surprisingly soft and gentle.

“I'm not- what is? What's obvi-”

“The razors say it all. Let me stop the bleeding on your wrist.” He said calmly, but anyone could see the fear and confusion in his eyes. “Let me see kitten.”

The nickname broke you, it'd been so long since anyone cared for you like Shouta did.

How could I doubt him..?

Don't let him touch you.

What-

It's poison.

The ointment you'd bought from the store was in his hand. Had he misplaced it? Had he traded it out? Could it hurt you more?

Will it make it hurt?

Why were you agreeing with the voice?

Tears bubbling in your eyes, your body felt as if it was being twisted in a circle, like mixing clay.

Why doesn't it hurt though…

You could faintly hear Aizawa saying your name, but your vision was swimming, little black fish darting in and out of your sight. You could feel them start to swarm your mind, and they covered all your vision- even to the very edge of your peripherals.

Then, it stopped, the pounding slowed, and there was a warmth on your wrist, in fact, the rest of your body was cold. Air swamped your abdomen, cold and chilling. Slowly, those little dotted fish swam away, clearing your eyesight, thinking you were prepared.

You weren't.

Who could be prepared to see Aizawa Shouta with tears streaming down his face?

You were sitting on the floor now, back up against the island with Aizawa kneeling between your legs, holding your hands.

His are so warm… they're bigger than mine…

He called your name again, you blinked briefly, trying to fully register what'd happened.

He'll choke you

You felt a rush of warmth through your body at the thought.

Not now dammit, not the time.

Wasn't meant to be dirty, bitch

“Kitten, can you hear me? Hey, hey breathe with me..” His deep voice called soothingly.

You coughed out, heaving. 

Why can't I breathe-

You could now recognize the terrifying weight in your chest, heavy and unmoving, drowning you in nothingness.

Will you kill me?

“Hey! Breathe-!” Shouta called in alarm, and you finally let out a wheezing breath, panting heavily as you tried to get air back into your lungs.

Get away from him. He'll take the burning away.

It does feel kinda good- like it's supposed to be there…

God your lungs hurt. But you deserved it right?

Fucking bitch.

“Shou-ta-?” You heaved, your smaller hands trembling in his hold. He squeezed them as a silent reassurance.

“I'm here Kitten, I'm here.” Shouta murmured softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead- which was warm and dotted with sweat.

“Why-” You choked out, feeling the tears build up in the corners of your eyes. Fear taking you by surprise.

He'll tell. Kill him

You tried to listen.

In a flash you had the hero shoved under you, holding the razor to his throat as you straddled him. Fear, anger, and betrayal reflected in your eyes.

Although Aizawa could see the confusion there too.

“Kitten.” He murmured, gulping, trying to grab your hand. Testing the waters. You pinned it above his head without a second thought.

He'll kill you!

What..?

He seized, something equivalent to fear and vitality honing in his orbs. “Breathe with me.” Shouta called gruffy, you could hear the anxiety in his voice.

He's afraid of me.

Good!

No! No no no- NOT GOOD!

Aizawa was muddled with confusion as you leaned back, scrambling off him until your back hit the counter and you tried to throw your head back- only for it to collide with the cabinet, a loud thud echoing around the room.

Shouta called your name out again. “Hey- hey-!” A strangled cry escaped from your throat.

Don't close your eyes bitch! He'll kill you!

Please-!

You sobbed harder, pulling your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your bent knees in a fetal position. It tugged on all the cuts on your shoulder blades and arms and chest. But the burning was intentional.

Good, you can handle some pain- don't be a bitch about it.

I'll be okay.

Something warm was suddenly surrounding you, large, muscular arms wrapping around your neck.

“Come back to me baby, breathe, I'm here. It's okay.” A gruff voice called. Pleasantly rough on your ears. His voice.

Shouta…

“I-I-” Your hands came up slowly, wrapping around his abdomen, clutching at the fabric of his black shirt. “N-no- I'm sorry- y-you-”

“Shhh, it's okay Kitten. Just breathe for me, breathe.” He urged, taking exaggerated deep breaths to help demonstrate. 

Why..?

Fucking hell…

You clung to him desperately, and despite the torn and ripped skin across your body, the reopened cuts that you could feel dripping, painting your body a bloody red, suddenly faded in Shouta's embrace.

“That's it Kitten…” He cooed, his voice deep and velvety in your ears.

“Sh-Shouta-”

“Shh, it's okay.” He calmed, pressing another kiss to the side of your head, it calmed you a little. 

“Mmm- again…” You mumbled, feeling dazed. Shouta eagerly obliged, running his fingers through your hair and pressing soft, loving kisses on your head, from your ear, to your hair, to your nose, and even to your neck.

He feels so good.

He shouldn't

I like it…

He'll kill you.

But this time you were able to reason.

Fuck off.

Your thoughts were momentarily silenced after that. You sat, still rocking yourself in Aizawa's tight embrace as he whispered softly to you.

“I-”

“No, no apologies.” He cut off, pulling away to cup your face in his scarred hands. A gentle, hurt look resonated in his eyes, you could still feel how nervous he was, but when you didn't pull away or move much it eased.

“I'm-”

“What did I say?”

“...no apologies…” you huffed, downcasting your eyes, “sorry.” You couldn't help but give a small smirk when Aizawa groaned.

“Such a naughty girl.” He murmured, fake frustration lightening the mood- albeit only slightly. You could feel the blood rushing back to you-

Blood

Shit

“Hey- hey, Kitten look at me.” He called, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, tracing your cheekbones with the pads of his fingers. “Stay with me. Let me help m'kay?”

You could only nod silently, the warmth of his body so close to yours it felt almost inappropriate.

Because you want him closer?

Fuck off I said!

But you did. You really really really fucking did. However that was something you kept between yourself and the bedroom and especially away from Shouta. God knows what'd happen if he found out.

He-

No, shut the fuck up.

“Kitten? You're getting lost on me again..” Shouta said calmly, a miniscule, barely-noticeable smile on his lips. “No ‘sorry’ in any form better come from those pretty lips of yours.” He demanded before you could even think about speaking- as if what he said totally didn't have your body going red hot.

Your lips parted slightly, but you nodded nonetheless, your bottom lip quivering. Slowly tilting your head up, there was a brief moment where your eyes met his deep grey ones, dark, small, and stunning in every way.

A possessiveness washed over you.

Little bitch, he doesn't even like you.

Doesn't mean I can't protect him.

You were finally in a state to battle your mind, and you were glad that it was Shouta who found you.

“Kitten, do you trust me?” His velvety voice called gently. Your eyes flicked up again to meet his, and you could only nod, your heart jumping to your throat. He nodded back in affirmation. “Can we go to your bathroom?”

That had you pausing, knowing what was in there. 

You gulped.

He'll kill you, it's more secluded.

So be it.

“Give me an honest answer.” He said slowly, “It's okay.” Shouta could hear how your breath hitched again, your body tensing in his hold.

You nodded, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. “It's okay.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “Just-”

“No commentary.” He interrupted. You could only nod in response. “No judgment here Kitten, you'll be okay.” Shouta gave a soft tug of your hands- which were clasped in his own.

Shouta sat there with you for a few more moments, gently holding your hands, silently coaxing you up. Although you were nowhere near ready, you stood, grasping onto Shouta's arm to stabilize yourself when your legs shook under you. 

Ready as I'll ever be…

Aizawa didn't say a word as you led him to your bedroom- which was a complete disaster. Clothes were strewn across the floor, a couple razor blades sat atop the dresser, and your bed was a complete mess. Blankets, sheets and pillows all either half on the bed or just not on it at all. 

Aizawa called out to you softly, but you merely shook your head. You didn't want to hear his thoughts about how fucked the state of your dorm was. Yet, like he so chose to do, he pressed, gently ignoring your defiance.

“I'll help you clean, don't worry for now.” He ensured, his words soothing that deep pit of anxiety and depression- if even for a moment or two. “Let's focus on you first alright?”

“Mhmm…” You mumbled, taking a breath as the door to your bathroom slid open, the hinges creaking and the scent of blood and vomit that was excruciatingly devastating in every way.

Aizawa could understand why you didn't come out now. Even if it was just a little bit. Even if it was just to say hi.

“Somebody would've asked.” He murmured gently, ignoring the putrid smell that seemed to envelope and suffocate you in the small bathroom. “Asked about where you were, and you couldn't lie.”

You could only nod, he was right. If someone had asked, you would've probably broken down right then and there. Not exactly because you wanted people to know… but because the emotionally unstable part of you had taken over any logical thought or reasoning.

Although Aizawa didn't say anything, you could almost feel his gaze as he inspected the state of the bathroom. If anything, it was worse than your bedroom.

There were numerous razor blades and razors that they had been taken out of scattered about the countertop, there was even one in the tub. Which was stained a light pink. If Aizawa didn't know you- 1: didn't like pink enough to have it as a bathtub, and 2: had been in the habit of cutting yourself for a while now- he probably would've shrugged it off as a simple miscommunication of color preferences. But with his level of knowledge that was impossible. 

His eyes silently caught sight of the mirror, broken and cracked through the majority of its glass. It was also then that he noticed the shattered pieces of sharp, sharded glass that were scattered around. The floor was covered in the specs, and there were multiple larger pieces that you'd clearly used to inflict pain upon yourself- if the blood that ran over the shards was anything to go by.

“Sho..?” You called out briefly, quietly, almost too quiet. He could feel your hand shuddering slightly.

“Sit.” He said- far braver than he felt. The fact that his voice didn't shake or stutter out was a damned miracle.

You could only comply, not wanting to frustrate him when he was clearly in a fragile state by seeing the appearance of your space. You slid past him, the toilet seat was already down- a bonus- and you stared down at it for a few moments. The glint of light that reflected off the toilet seat in fractured angles told you not to sit yet.

Aizawa called your name again, but all you could do was shake your head, turning to him, your face fell slowly, eyes downcasting and your fists clenched tightly. He stared worriedly for a moment before peering over your shoulder at the lid, his eyes visibly softened an almost unreal amount. He carefully tucked his arm into his sleeve a bit, using the end of it- where his hand no longer was and it was just fabric- to wipe off the seat, the pinpointed sounds of glass hitting the ground engrossed your ears for a moment as he cleared it off.

Shouta stepped back, shaking his sleeve off as an extra precaution. Neither of you spoke as you settled onto the lid of the toilet. Aizawa rummaged through your destroyed bathroom, removing himself to grab the ointment and gauze from the bag you'd come back with.

“Shouta…?” You murmured once his figure returned to the doorway.

“What's wrong Kitten…” He called back, submerging himself in the bloodied and disastrous bathroom once more.

“'m sorry…”

“For what?” 

“Me.”

Shouta didn't reply after that, how could he? There was only so much he could do for you when you didn't care enough anyways… 

Slowly, he uncapped the ointment, gently taking your arm in hand he smeared it over the raised reddened spots on your upper arms. There weren't any fresh cuts or nicks on your forearms- clearly you were at least somewhat smart about this.

That thought didn't actually bring him any comfort though.

“I hate how good you are at hiding things..” He murmured, “I wish you would've told me…”

You could only stare at his hands as the worked the soothing cream over your arms, his large hands being able to cover much more than yours could. The pads of his fingers were bigger, rough from years of training and hero work, yet soft and tender as he tended to your intentional harm.

“I don't like people knowing…” You murmured, “It makes me feel selfish.” The words slipped past your lips before you could stop them.

“For wanting people to know that you need help?”

“For inconveniencing people that have to check in on me and make sure I'm not-”

“Anyone that's close to you would gladly take 15 minutes out of their day to check in on you to make sure you weren't hurting yourself or planning to do anything.” He whispered, his voice suddenly low and extremely close to your ear. You barely registered the sound of him tearing the medical tape, and the feel of it being pressed to your arm- along with a gauze pad. “And if I need to, I'll check in on you every 15 minutes. Whether you like it or not. Its not an inconvenience to me.”

“But you have students..?” You retaliated, looking up at him with a cloudy, confused look. Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand the why.

As you spoke he worked efficiently on the cuts surrounding your wrist, dapping at them with a cloth to clear the blood away before applying more of the ointment and gauze.

“The problem children can wait 10 minutes for me, they can kill themselves 100 times over before I let you do it once.” He soothed, albeit it being a dark statement- it lit a much needed fire inside you. A want.

“Shouta…”

“You're stuck with me, you and all your problems are mine now.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to the top of your head, a firm yet gentle kiss.

You could only stare up at him as he pulled back just slightly, cupping your chin with two of his fingers. Subconsciously, your eyes trailed to his lips, sure- you'd felt them against your skin before, when he kissed your forehead. But never where you wanted them. Or really wanted them either.

“Come back to my dorm.” Shouta requested, calling out your name to garner your attention. “..Please..?”

You couldn't say no to the pleading look on his face.

“Can I sleep with you?”

You couldn't say no to him in general.

“Obviously.”

Apparently he couldn't either.

★彡 -------------------------------------------- 彡★

Constructive Criticism Welcomed!<3

I'm fully aware of how confusing this may be for now, formatting was being a bitch and I'm to tired to fix it rn

⁻ᵈᵘⁿⁿᵏᵒᵖ

[oceaneyesinla]

★ Welcome! I'm Rox/Roxy - 28 - she/they ★

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I write x reader (and occasionally OC) fanfiction

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Current loves are: Wind Breaker, BSD, JJK, Demon Slayer and MHA (if you've watched Cells at Work PLEASE come and talk to me about it!)

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[velvetscene]

🎐 ┊What you need to change/hear in order to be free.⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

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Hello and welcome to my pick a pile !! I hope you enjoy it. I haven't done a PAP in a while so I'm a bit rusty... I hope you don't mind.

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︵︵ᕱᕱ︵︵

All art in this blog is official art!

The gifs are made by me through canva :3 Tarot and intuition was used for this post!

𓂃`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Hello, pile one!

Right off the bat, you're someone who is incredibly strong. Perhaps that's why you were drawn to Chihiro? Regardless, you are known to be strong in moments that are intense and stress-inducing. This is a great trait to have, and I don't believe that this is something you need to change in order to be free.

In fact, I think you're quite ahead of others. I believe that this quality about you is bringing you closer to your goals.

You're someone who has achieved anything they put their mind to, but I don't think you believe this about yourself. You may be reading this and thinking, "What? Me?" You may not believe in yourself the way others believe in you. Which, frankly, is absurd considering how incredibly powerful you are.

You'll never achieve your fullest potential if you never recognize your good qualities, and I assure you — there's a lot.

You're someone who's felt as if they've had to fight for their existence. You've had to fight for love, acknowledgement, and consideration. Nothing has come easy for you like it has for others. Yes, this has made you stronger, but it's also something you shouldn't have had to go through. You shouldn't have had to seclude yourself and teach yourself things that others wouldn't bother to do. Yes, you are strong — but it came with a price.

You may also be someone who compares yourself to others a lot. You weigh your "greatness" with theirs. You weigh your worth as if you were sitting on a seesaw with a friend. You look down at them, swaying your legs slightly. You both exchange compliments, but you know they don't mean theirs. You rub your arm sheepishly, wanting this exchange to end because you don't feel worthy of their words.

Although that's where you're wrong, you're incredibly unique. You need to learn how to appreciate yourself for who you are, not who you desire to be. People are individuals, and despite the fact that some may seem "better" than the rest, we're all trying to get through our struggles.

You need to look within yourself and find out why you feel you're not good enough. Perhaps it's due to some past experiences with friends and/or family. Regardless, there is something inside of you that's not letting you love yourself.

Decide whether you need to nurture it or destroy it.

I want to mention that freedom doesn't mean the same thing for everyone. For pile one, I believe that you are freeing yourself from your mental restrictions. You'll be free of your need to please people and of others’ opinions weighing on you.

Now, when you've decided what to do, I see a lot of success ahead. Not only spiritually, but mentally too. Your experiences may have been hard to deal with, and it's a shame you need to pick up the pieces, but when you do, you will feel more at peace. I believe in you. You can do this!

Another thing is that you may need to watch those who you consider your friends. They may not be as genuine as you believe, and this is limiting you.

You're someone who's sweet. You're a giver, and people love to take advantage of those who are compassionate. Your time is expensive. People should be willing to put effort into you. Your friendships should be mutual. You shouldn't have to put all the effort in only to get crumbs in return.

More importantly, you need to become more protective of your energy. A person's energy is one of the most, if not the most, important things a being can have. Your energy and your peace need to be protected. You need to learn how to be “selfish.” You're willing to sacrifice parts of yourself for others, and I think we're both aware of how unhealthy that is. Don't change yourself for others solely because they don't like who you are as a person. There are billions of people on planet Earth, and I promise you'll meet people who appreciate you for who you are.

Pay attention to your personal needs and desires. Do you feel like answering that text right now? No? Then don't. They can wait. Don't allow yourself to be pressured by your own self-consciousness.

You need to let go of your past to rebuild your future. You may have been betrayed in the past, and you need to heal from that. You allow your past experiences to affect your current relationships. Those people who hurt you were horrible, but they can't hurt you anymore. Allow yourself to learn how to feel safe. You deserve more than anything to be at peace.

Overall, you need to allow yourself to be happy. You need to work on healing yourself so you can finally be happy. Be yourself, and love yourself for doing so. Don't allow others' projections to get the best of you. You are strong, but you deserve rest. You deserve to have someone hold you close and keep you warm. Allow others to do that for you.. and if they still betray you? Cut them out. Learn how to be true to yourself and catch yourself if you're not being cared for. Improve your standards and your idea of what you're worthy of. Take care of yourself, and allow your mind to be at peace.

Hihi, pile two!

You're someone artistic, I believe. Your perspective on the world is beautiful. You're creative and perhaps confident? If not, you definitely radiate confidence, so don't worry about that. You may be brave, and you know your needs and wants.

Although you are brave, I think that only comes out when you're defending another person — perhaps your close friends? Regardless, when you are in intense situations that involve you specifically, you're polite and neutral. You try to ease the conflict before it gets out of hand. This might lead to others walking over you, but you don't take it personally. You're true to yourself, but privately. You don't need other people to know your true thoughts if you understand yourself. You're independent. You'd be content with being alone.

You're also strategic. You don't act before thinking. You take time to think your options through, and you won't let your emotions get the best of you. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that you may be forcing yourself to do this. Yes, you believe that this is the most reasonable answer, but it comes with sacrificing your own feelings. Sometimes it's best to be emotional and allow fights to get out of control. You don't need to be the mediator every time a conflict arises. You deserve to be upset and make others aware of it.

You always lend a hand to those who need it, so why not let them do the same for you? Are you worried they'll see a part of you that you're ashamed of? Let go of your pride. Allow yourself to be in embarrassing and emotional situations.

You may be someone who is always working towards being a better person. I honestly think you may be an overworker in general. Working makes you feel as if you're making progress. You can't sit still without knowing you're doing something productive. You always set goals for yourself. You overexert yourself because you need to be doing something at all times. You must allow yourself to rest. I promise you won't miss any opportunities if you take a nap or do something you enjoy doing. Time is in your hands, and it'll wait for you.

As shifters, we have all the time we could dream of. Don't worry about it; you'll be okay.

Due to your overworking tendencies, you're stressed and worn out. You need to separate yourself from your situation in any way you can. You need to allow yourself a few moments of peace so you can just... think. Allow yourself to breathe.

Hold yourself tightly; you're the only “you” you'll get. Don't ignore what your body needs. You truly value your own company, but you work yourself to the bone. Take time out of your day to be kinder to yourself.

Being independent doesn't mean you don't need the support of others. It may be hard for you to let your walls down and seek help, but that's something all humans need. Trust more. I believe that you truly do enjoy your own presence, but you make me think that you're the only one you can trust. Humans can be deceptive, yes, but you must take a leap of faith. If you're afraid of missing out on opportunities, why would you limit yourself to those around you? Take advantage of your resources.

You may currently be burned out and unsure of what your next step is. In our shifting journeys, we're not always certain what our next step is, so we're often left in the unknown. Despite these circumstances, we try our best not to give up hope. The truth is, your current mental state needs to be dealt with before you can make any new progress. You need to pick up the pieces before you can put a vase back together. Allow yourself to recollect.

Overall, you need to be more patient with yourself and allow your walls to come down a bit. I mean, I don't expect you to walk up to others and tell them your life story, but you should at least try opening up some more. It doesn't have to be much. I think the interpretation of freedom for this pile is for you to determine, but if I had to guess, you deserve to be freed of your own overworking tendencies, and you deserve to take some weight off your chest. Please, rest up. You need it.

Hey, pile three!

You're someone who doesn't want to follow the rules, and you hate being restricted by anyone or anything. I have a feeling you need to control every aspect of your shifting journey. You may be constantly asking for divination so you can feel a sense of control. Which honestly reminds me of no face due to the fact he lets his greed get the best of him and demands more gold.

You're way too dependent on divination. You need to let go. Things will work out the way they work out. You don't need to be in control all the time. Sure, it's scary not knowing where you stand in your shifting journey, but life isn't all about finding answers.

You may be wondering what you should do instead. Well, enjoy your journey, because it's supposed to be fun. Take a moment to think about how far you've come. Don't ignore your achievements; you've come a long way. No shifting journey is linear. You'll make progress, and then you won't. There's nothing to stress about, we'll all shift eventually.

You may be a bit obsessed with your DR, and that's normal. We're shifters for a reason, you know? We all want to get out of this reality, but sometimes to make progress, we need to have a clear mind. To have a clear head, we must give ourselves time.

Another thing I want to note is that you don't have to try to shift every night. You may feel that if you don't try tonight, you'll miss your chance. As I've already mentioned, we have time. We're allowed to take breaks — we need to take breaks.

I have a feeling you have a lot of emotional turmoil when it comes to shifting. Your journey is a lot more stressful and intense than it needs to be. You might have some limiting beliefs that you can't get out of your head. Your fears are consuming you. You need to calm down and rest.

Shifting shouldn't give us anxiety or self-doubt; shifting should inspire us. Anything is impossible, and if it's just a matter of time, then I believe it's worth it, do you? Think about it: lifetimes from now, we won't even remember the struggles we experienced in this reality. All of this will be a faded memory. Think of the possibilities, not the restrictions.

Perhaps you need to take a moment and let all of your emotions out. You could put on some music and just… cry. It's okay. Shifting is frustrating. You're left in the dark, and that makes you angry. I understand. If I could sit you down, hold your hand, and tell you everything was going to be okay, I would because it is.

If you don't know what to do, seek advice from yourself. Listen to that little voice in your head. You need to stop depending on others and start going to yourself, regardless of whether or not you do divination yourself or seek it from others. You need to begin relying on your own intuition and inner voice. You're incredibly wise, and you know yourself better than anyone else does. If anyone was going to know the answer to your question, it'd be you.

You're hesitant because you trust others' abilities over your own, but you must recognize the amount of power you have. No one is weak; our strength is just distributed in different ways. We all have aspects of ourselves that might be stronger or weaker than someone else. It's not about what others have and what you don't have; it's about learning to take advantage of what you do have. You're not weak.

You may be more sensitive to what others think of you, but their views of you are just opinions, not facts. You decide who you are. Remember, you're the creator of your reality, right? Your opinion is the only one that matters.

You may have a lack of support, which is unfortunate, but don't let this get to you. You are worthy of love, and it is possible for you. No one isn't worthy of love. We all make mistakes, and we all have things we dislike about ourselves, but in no way does that make us unlovable.

Overall, I believe you need to let go of people's opinions and perspectives on you. You need to allow yourself the freedom to not care. Be yourself, and be patient. Don't rely on others as much as you do. You must grow more independent because, at the end of the day, all you have is yourself. You're amazing, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Hiii, pile four!

You're someone who never runs out of ideas. You're always expanding your limits and pushing yourself to know more. You love researching and educating others. You might be a bit self-conscious and nervous. You get along with others well, and you always know what's going on within your community. You're always thinking of ways you can help others around you.

As I said, you're someone who's nervous and, most likely, insecure. Don't be; you're amazing! You're smart, and you're passionate. You take pride in your work, but your own views of yourself may get in the way of you becoming the best version of yourself.

You may have a good idea, but you might be a bit too insecure to bring it up to those around you. Give yourself a pep talk, and tell others about your ideas! I promise you, they're great.

Remember, don't take on too much. You have a tendency to accept more than you know you're capable of. You need to find a balance between being assertive and knowing your limits.

You're someone who's looked up to by others. You're wise, and your energy radiates it. People may come to you for advice and guidance. You may not like this about yourself. Perhaps you don't like being seen as wise and mature; maybe you want to be left alone. I have a feeling others may not listen to you the way you listen to them. You hardly have anyone you can rely on.

I do think a part of you is glad people see you this way, but you hate the responsibility that comes with it. You have to deal with others’ problems, and you may not have the heart to turn them away. You do care for these people, but it might be too much for you to handle, and they don't seem to be thinking about you in these situations.

You need to learn how to get the courage to bring these problems up. People admire you; they do. You don't need to hold others’ hands for them to like you. If you do, then they're not worth it.

You and those around you need to find a balance between being able to rely on each other, but not an extensive amount. You're human, and you need breaks.

Communicating can be hard, but standing up for yourself is worth it. Your feelings and mental health don't deserve to be ignored.

Your friends may not be giving you the care you need. They may not pay attention to you or listen to your opinions. They may only talk about themselves. If this is the case, you can either bring this up with them or leave.

You need to be more upfront with your boundaries. I also think you need to pay more attention to your own feelings. As I've mentioned, you ignore your own feelings for the convenience of others, but your feelings matter too. Perhaps it's the amount of responsibility that's been put on you that's made you feel this way. Regardless of the reasons, you need to put your foot down.

You need to take time for yourself and ask yourself what you think you deserve. Do you deserve to be treated this way? Do you deserve more? I suggest doing shadow work and evaluating your self-concept.

You're restricted by preconceived ideas that others have placed on you. You feel as though you have no room to breathe because people act as if they know who you are when they don't. It bothers you that people seem to put limits on you as a person. You need to keep an eye out for those who do this, and you need to cut them out. You don't deserve this treatment.

Overall, I believe you need to stand up for yourself more. You may let people walk over you because you don't want to come off as mean, but you need to understand that it doesn't matter what others feel if they're ignoring your feelings. You deserve more compassion and consideration because it's clear those around you don't give you that. I wish you luck with this. It can be hard to teach yourself to stand up for yourself, but I believe in you.

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Thank you so much for reading my pick a pile ! Please don't be shy and comment your thoughts, as well as what pile you got. I hope you enjoyed it !! See ya in my next studio Ghibli themed PAP

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[kitsuani]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ requests: open˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

hi there anyone, everyone, and those hidden in between!

i've finished posting my backlog of fics (both here and @kitsuga) (as ive already uh, mentioned there) so i figured i'd open requests if anyone's got some! please read these (rules) if you can, and you can look at (currently accepted) fandoms if you'd like, but i'm honestly open for a lot more than i have listed, it's just hard to list everything when you've read/watched so much, you know? so you can shoot your shot if you have a request!!

i am working on a handful of my own wips as well, so hopefully i get them done soon!

wips in question include: ⟡hokusai x reader (paralive - fluff) ⟡kei x reader (charisma house - fluff) ⟡2 (different) uramichi x reader (uramichi oniisan - fluff) ⟡jakurai x reader (hypmic - fluff) ⟡doppo character centric (hypmic - angst)

hope to see you soon!! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[angeldust-official]

★ ~ pinned ~ ★

"Heya, toots! Let's get some shit covered before ya start talkin' to me, hm? Start scrollin'"

| RULES AND MORE |

No homophobes/transphobes

No racism/sexism

Angel dust is a pornstar, so this blog is 18+

NO MINORS!!

THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERING CONTENT SUCH AS: SEX, DRUG USE, ABUSE, MENTAL ILLNESS AND MORE! THIS IS YOUR FINALE WARNING.

This blog is a roleplay/ask blog for the character Angel Dust from the series Hazbin Hotel, there will be spoilers from both the show.

If you send threats or hate in my inbox you will be blocked and reported, I don't need any of that and it will NOT be tolerated.

HI IM PEACH! IF YOU'VE READ ALL OF THIS THEN LIKE THIS POST PLEASE AND THANK YOU! PLEASE DONT BE SHY TO SEND AN ASK OR TWO! Also, if you like my blog PLEASE FOLLOW! It'd really mean a lot lmao.

[cilil]

Can I ask for requests, for example 29 - fairytale, based on the little mermaid Eönwë/Arafinwe? Or the Beauty and the Beast with Melkor/Mairon but in the end it's Belle who is corrupted too? Which idea do you prefer?

⸙ Prompt: Fairytale (little mermaid) | Eönwë x Arafinwë ⸙ Synopsis: After an accident at sea, Arafinwë nearly drowns - if not for a certain Maia swooping in to save him. ⸙ Warnings: Implied/referenced near death experience ⸙ Double drabble, switching POV

» AN: First of all I need to say that I adore both of these prompts you've given me and tbh they deserve a full fic - while I won't make any promises there, I'll definitely keep them in my notes. I chose the Eönwë x Arafinwë one for now, simply because inspiration struck (might revisit the other one at least for a drabble later, but again no promises). I was also inspired to create a fun little AU that goes beyond the fairytale, but that'll be in another post. For now, please enjoy this one!

He was beautiful, even now that he looked like he had been kissed by death itself. 

Eönwë cradled the unconscious Elf in his arms and wrapped his wings around him, a warm, protective embrace of white feathers. 

Arafinwë was his name. And noble he was indeed. 

He shifted, restless now, and Eönwë leaned down to nuzzle his damp hair while humming a soothing melody. The storm was dissipating, and they were safe on the shore, but Arafinwë needed to rest. 

Eönwë knew he shouldn't be here, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to make sure he would be well. 

 ˚ ੈ✧̣̇·˖ 　˚ .　　　✶ ˚　　✦　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　.  ˚　

When Arafinwë awoke, he was surprised to be greeted by the gentle sounds of the sea and Laurelin's light. He remembered falling, being taken by the waves, lost in the darkness... 

But there was something else, a memory of strong arms holding him and a wonderful voice singing to him. He remembered warmth and feathers and the calming scent of snow and fresh wind.

Slowly, Arafinwë rose. He wished to thank his mysterious rescuer, but he was alone. Had everything been just a dream? 

There was a single white feather stuck in his hair, and he knew it had not. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[brisquad-unit-4402]

question 6?

it's been amazing reading the other responses and being able to see how far you've come. I may be a little late to the bandwagon, but j can say with certainty that it's been an honor reading your fics over these last few months. Please keep being you and working hard towards the things you want to achieve (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

these are very sweet words. the best time is now! i appreciate it muchly, and i hope the rest of the year—and the next as well—treats you as kindly as you treat me

6. Favorite title you used?

the struggle of being a writer on tumblr that crossposts to ao3 is that with tumblr, asks tend to do the job that titles would. so a lot of entries on my masterlist are like cuddling with [character]. what [character] does after a long day. ways to kiss [character]. which is all well and good, my work is exactly what it says on the tin and we're all happy. i don't have to worry about titling things

now i also, and most often, crosspost to ao3 at night, when i'm tired.

in some cases that's great. in other cases i mention in an author's note that ike weighs about as much as a box of cheez-its. this is all to say that my ao3 titles are awful and bad and not nearly the same vibe as its contents, and i don't think i'd have it any other way.

dudes who only order boneless 🍗 wings close the fridge with their hips and brutal garlic disaster horrifically kills 1, injures 3.9k viewers are bangers. and who could forget the indomitable royal splash

i find that the less stress i put on myself to think of titles the better, because then i just get it done without stressing. so, like... memes.

unironically, and predictably, stars above your skin is my favorite of the intended titles.

stars above your skin is most directly a reference to ike's freckles in that fic. they're something that represents how his and reader's relationship changes once they meet up; on cameras they're hard to see and in real life the sun tends to make them more prominent. they're a reminder that he's real (non-parasocial), and the moment reader notices them in detail, they go from giddy and crushing into comfortable and in love. it also refers to the confession scenes. the failed confession is literally under the stars and his appearance is described with the context of stargazing.

"The night turns the tips of his hair bluer than usual, and the stars remind you of the freckles hidden along his creamy skin. His glasses reflect the galaxy above."

this is where i decided stars above your skin would be the title. in the proper confession, they're so at peace with one another that the bumps of this nasty ass airbnb ceiling might as well be stars, like making up for their bum confession in a romantic setting. and yes there's metaphors of his freckles being stars in there

if in pursuit to and from the sun was more eloquent it would've been a contender and more likely to win. yadda yadda the sun is a symbol for both death and hope, mysta metaphor, uh huh. it just has too many glue words in it for me to take it seriously. if it didn't take tumblr 7 minutes just to load the editor on that post i'd rename it to something better, like, idk, mastodon's sixth album or something