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thequietkid-moonie · 1 year ago

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This is a strange request, but can I have shuichi, kokichi, rantaro, and kiibo (all separate) with a reader who carries around a music box loclet 24/7 only to get upset when they lose it one day?

The locket idea is inspired by the Star Locket from Sailor Moon, thank you for taking the time to read my request and I hope you have a wonderful day / night!

S/O always carries a music box locket

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Shuichi, Kokichi, Rantaro ]

[ Danganronpa V3 Killing Harmony ]

Dear you are the best person in the world!!! My entire life i have always wanted an music box and I love pocket watches so this is perfect!!

I was a little anxious while writing this so i reaaaaally hope I didn't mess it up 😢 and I wasn't able to write for Kiibo, so sorry 😣

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi is pretty insecure and shy so it would take him a while to get used to be in a relasionship, althought he can be determinanted too, so for knowing that you correspond his feelings he won't doubt on taking the oportunity to be in a relasionship and try his best

Even before start dating Shuichi always makes clear that you can count on him, he cares for you so if you ever need help he is willing to do it, however he doesn't like to pry much in your personal life, and even in a relasionship he doesn't fully understand how much he is allowed to ask

Even if you normally keep your music box on your pocket or even hiden it won't take him much time before notice it, but, then again, he doesn't want to pry or exceed your limits if you don't want to talk about it. Although, it is something that would stay in his mind for a while, wondering if it would be alright for him to ask, giving little glances at your pocket music box from time to time but don't really ask

It has to be you who decides to tell him about it or that he finally gives up and manage to ask you about it, he is intriged of why you carry it around and want to know as much as you are willing to tell him, and no matter your reasoning (either for be a comfort item or just because you like having it with you) he won't judge you and will just accept it, it isn't something that it wouldn't bother him at all

Depending on why you carry it it would be Shuichi's next course of action, if it is because is because of an special meaning for you he will want to know more (if you allow him to know more, of course) and probably will give it the same importante you give to it, the same as is if is a comfort item, in this case he will try to be carefuly with it if you ever let him hold it or if you leave it somewhere around (like if he sees it in your dorm or your ultimate lab). If you just carry it because you like it then he will be more calm about it but still sees it as something important for you, but will hesitant less in asking you if he can hold it

The first time you let it hold it he probably will pay attention to the details, like the form, the music it plays, the tiny decorations, is just like a second nature for him to be so observant and curious, once he snaps out of his trance he will apologize with an embarrased blush and say how beautiful the pocket music box is

Since is important to you Shuichi takes care of it, making sure it never hits the ground or not letting in Kokochi's hands of someone that can break it, unless you are completely sure to trust them with it. As well he always knows where it is, somehow, he know that you have it but whenever he notice you aren't carrying it with you he can make himself an idea of where it could be or if he notice it is somewhere he will either keep in mind where it is or directly take it and give it to you (if it is somewhere you wouldn't put it intentionally)

If you ever lose it and he doesn't know where it is he offer you to search it with you without hesitantion, even if you aren't upset or desperate he is already thinking where it could be, althought if you are upset for losing it he will be more rushed to help you, depending in how upset you are is how much he will be stressing himself out to help you find it. Despite his stress is probably that it won't take much time for him to find it, still if is definetly lost Shuichi will still think about it for days, until he finally run out of ideas and will deeply apologize to you, almost as if it was him who lost it

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi can be really reserved despite always acting so wild, so giving himself a chance to be in a relationship is going to be until he know that he can trust you that you two can start a relasionship, and even so it would be a slow process for Kokichi to be able to open up with you

Although, unlike him, Kokichi does expect for you to open up to him and, wanting or not, Kokichi will know a lot about you just by watching you, he is incredibly observant and perseptive so is just like a second nature for him

Even if you don't tell him he will find out about your pocket music box, depending in how much you hide it and how playful he feels in that moment it would determinate if he ask you about it right away and if he tries to borrow it to look at it better. Kokichi is really curious about it and won't even try to hide it, he will ask you a lot of things about the pocket music box, most of his questions sound silly but he is trying to pry as much information as he can

Kokichi knows how important this is for you so this is important for him too, however he doesn't show it, he acts as if it was a simple souvenir without value but he actually makes sure no one else take even a glance at it (unless you are fine with showing it to others too, in that case he will still do it but only in a playful manner)

Kokichi will know the story behing your music box soon or later, if is just something simple like you bought it because you find it cute it would take him a while to grap his head around to why it is so important to you, but if it has a special meaning like being a comfort iteam or a gift from someone important he will be more respectful of it in less time (but may be jealous if someone outside of your family was the one who gave it to you and will try to kinda fight against it and give you something way better, according to him)

His curiousity not only goes for the story behind it, he wants to have the opportunity to hold it close and see all the little details of the little pocket music box, but he is kinda embarrassed by it so he acts like he doesn't care and try to borrow it for a moment to appreciate without you noticing

Unless Kokichi sees it somewhere he always asumes that you have the pocket music box with you, if some day you lose it he tries to remember if he had saw it before or if he has it in his possession, depending in how upset you are by losing it will be his reaction, going from teasing you and messing with you or immediatly getting serious (and a little worried)

If he had borrow it without telling you and that is why you don't find it he will feel a little ashame and embarrassed but won't admit it and will try to leave it somewhere you usually you put it (even if it is in your pocket, he'll try), even call you silly for not looking for it well

He tries his best to help you find it and since he is really smart and sneaky it won't be much troubles for him, but if at the end he has to ask for someone's help he will ask to Kirumi (and probably with little cocodrile tears in his eyes)

Rantaro Amami

Rantaro can be pretty calm while being in a relasionship but that doesn't make him any less affectionate, he has not shame to show how much he loves you and does it in direct and indirect ways

Even if Rantaro isn't too obvious with it he is really interested on you as a person, he wants to know what you like and dislike, what you are interested on and so on, also he is really observant and perceptive so he will get to know a lot about you by just paying attention

At some point he will find out about the pocket music box you always carry around, even if you don't tell him directly he will know at some point and he is really curious about it, Rantaro will probably ask you about it right away but it would depend in your reactiom to what he does next, if you are startled he may apologize (specially if you haven't say anything about it before), but if you don't have troubles with showing him the pocket music box he will want to be able to hold it (if you prefer to not he will be disapointed but will respect your wishes)

If you allow him he will like to take a moment to appreciate it, it doesn't take him long to noticed the details of the design and actually give it back to you while complimenting it

Rantaro is pretty curious about why you always carry it but only ask depending your reaction, if it seems like is too especial or something you prefer to keep to yourself he won't ask, but if doesn't seems to be something too private then he will ask about it. Rantaro asumes that it has a special meaning for you since you always carry it, but if is because more simple reason (like you just like carrying it around because you find it cute) he will just find it amusing, but at the end, regardless of your reason to carry it around he respect it and treats the pocket music box like something really special

Somehow Rantaro always know if you have it with you or not, he is just really observant and since is something important for you is something important for him, he also has an idea where you leave it whenever you don't have it with you (he probably already had saw you leaving it in your dorm or in your ulrimate lab)

If you ever lose it Rantaro will be there to help you search for it almost immediatly, first of all he wants for you to calm down (in case you are getting anxious or estress for it) and try to remeber when was the last time you saw it, Rantaro tries to think where it could be, it would be strange to just lose it for how much you care for it, however he never says anything that could sound as blaming you

He has no problem with asking the others if they had saw it and even ask Kirumi's help (is almost imposible for her to don't find it), Rantaro seems calm while searching but a lot of thoughts and posibilities are crossing his mind, and in the rare case you don't manage to find it he will feel truly sorry, as if it was him who lose something important (but will focus on comforting you)

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa v3 x reader #shuichi saihara #shuichi saihara x reader #shuichi x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #kokichi x reader #rantaro amami #rantaro amami x reader #rantaro x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video games x reader

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z3rinn · 1 year ago

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# #. BATHTUB MERMAID.

in which your daily walks on the beach have been becoming more eventful as time passes. But after finding a certain scale, you feel as if you’re being watched at every turn.

this was a little unedited idea I came up with for halloween!! I wrote that Azul has scales when octopi dont- so uh-. slight yandere content up ahead !! hope you guys enjoy !! also- new header !! wdyt??

❝ rise and fall silver moon ❞

You never believed in mythical creatures.

The beach had become a safe spot for you throughout the years. It was still and serene; a place where life's problems sunk into the deep ocean before you.

The ocean had always been mysterious. It was a deep and spacious space, the beginning of life so to say. It held a sense of tranquility, yet alongside that, unpredictability.

The Sea held emotions. It could be violent and vicious, yet benevolent and peaceful. Perhaps this is what led to your fascination with the sea and its inhabitants. It's creatures.

The ocean reflected beauty, showing the world its colors and scales, it was a place creatures could thrive. However the deeper you go, the more terrifying it gets, showing what could be awaiting you in the unknown.

The human imagination was vast, and could come up with many creatures and ideas. There were vampires and werewolves, Cryptids and Ghosts- all fantastical tales made up by the imagination.

The Sea had its own creatures as well, mermaids, yet similarly known as sirens. They were fantastical stories, usually depicted by sailors and legends. They were beings similar to humans, well, only half of them that is.

They were only half man, with long beautiful tails from the waist down. They were akin to fish, luring others with their songs and beauty. Their majestic colours aiding them.

A fishermens tale, as they say. You didnt believe in the stories, no matter how scary they could get. Scientifically it couldn’t be proven.

However, these legends didnt deter you from the ocean.

Now, on a dark night like this, where the silver moon lit up the sky, there shouldn't have been anything to worry about. It was an ideal night, peaceful and soothing.

The wind breezed across your face, brushing against skin and cloth. It was a chilly night, the cold ocean and air made a combination that was welcomed.

You walked slowly across the shore line, feeling the sand between your toes. It was soft and rocky, a texture you had frown accustomed to. The sand had significantly cooled compared to the burning heat from the morning, it felt nice against your skin.

You glanced behind you, seeing how far away you traveled from the lifeguard. You couldn't help but take notice of the tide that erased your footsteps.

It was if the world was erasing you.

Well, you wouldve thought that if it were for the black scale that washed up on shore.

And wow was it pretty.

You gently picked the scale up, rubbing off any remaining sand in the way.

You gaped in awe, cradling it in your hands. No way this could be real. Not with how beautiful it was.

The scale reminded you of an obsidian stone. Smooth and soft to the touch. It oddly resembled hard candy in your opinion.

You turned it over, noting that it was also very shiny. It looked like holographic sparkles with the way they shone against the moons silver light. Shifting it back and forth you could see bits of purple and blue reflecting in the moonlight.

It seriously looked like a jewel. Perfectly crafted and precise.

Hm.

You pocketed the scale. Continuing on with your walk. It's not like anyone would miss it right? In the end it was just another scale. No one would miss it.

You had keep reminding yourself of that. As the feeling of someone watching you became more apparent.

❝ mirror covered in chalky steam ❞

Showers weren't uncommon to take when coming home from the beach. In fact they were usually welcomed and desired.

Although going to the beach almost everyday you still couldn't get used to the feeling of sand everywhere.

It was so uncomfortable.

The need to get the grimy sand off was strong. And the urge to just pour clean water all over you was overwhelming. You just had to clean yourself of this dirt.

A light sigh escaped your lips as you stepped into the bathroom, ridding yourself of your clothes while turning the water on. Luckily this time you didn't go for a swim, so just a quick rinse would suffice.

But alas with some more thought you decided, sometimes a long bath was nice once in a while.

Grabbing your phone, you put a playlist on. The one you specifically made for your long walks on the beach. It could still work good enough, right?

A smile formed on your face as you stepped into the bathtub, hot water enveloping your body. It was a nice contrast against the beaches cold air.

You sunk deeper into the tub, unknowingly letting sleep sink its claws deep into you.

The last thing you saw was an array of sharp teeth above you, a soft, yet comforting voice lulling out a song. A pair of gold and grey eyes hypnotizing you, a spell to put you at ease. To sleep.

However, you were too far gone. And while your heart lept with adrenaline and fear, the drowsy feeling wasn't going away. No matter how much you screamed at yourself to get up you couldn’t. You could only feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the water around you.

And you could've sworn you felt a hand cover your eyes.

Slimy and webbed.

❝ touch me, touch me, kiss me to sleep ❞

It was another day at the beach. Another day where the cool air brushed across you, consuming your being whole. It was a quiet day- or was one.

You glanced over at the sea from your spot under the bright blue parasol, contrasting the dark sky. Waves crashed, yelling ensued. All fun and games it seemed.

Being at the beach usually meant a time just for yourself. However this time you accompanied by your brother- and his oddly annoying friends.

Usually on days like this you relaxed, watching them play with a volleyball like they were in the big leagues. You'd only ever get up when someone hit the ball too far off- being ever so kind to help them out.

Just as you were doing now.

A groan left your lips as you stood up, watching the beach ball drift further away from you. It'd be a run to get it.

Your feet patterned against the sand, moving into a slight jog to catch up with the ball. However, every time you begun to creep closer to the ball it drifted away. It was weird.

It want long before you caught up to the ball, the wind blowing through your hair as you observed your surroundings. You'd stopped in front of the monstro cave.

The monstro cave, a place where many had gone 'missing'. Apparently a place so deep that many generations got lost in its caverns.

You'd never believe these legends of course, there was absolutely no reason to. If the cave was so dangerous, why hadnt it been blocked off yet? And with modern technology it wasn't hard to get help if ever lost.

However, it wasn't hard to get frightened by the cave. The legends and vibe of the corridor could easily freak someone out.

Almost everyone was scared of the cave at some point.

You glanced up into the cavern, noting the cold air that poured from it. Before stopping in your tracks.

And your heart sank.

A yellow eye stared up at you from the darkness. A singlular eye. Staring. Watching.

It was wide, and almost downturned, glowing in the darkness as it just watched. It gazed deeply into your form, never breaking contact with your eyes.

You could hear the ocean water crashing behind you, almost as if it was angry.

Your body screamed at you to move, your heart pounding in your chest. But you were frozen still.

The eye squinted, scrutinizing your form. A gut feeling hung over you, whoever it was took pleasure in your horror.

You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move---

You slowly stepped back. A shaky sigh left your lips, the sense of fear washing over you, tenfold. Perhaps it was time to go.

Yes, you never believed in mythical creatures. But it was hard to forget all these encounters.

❝ im a bathtub mermaid ❞

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland

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the-writerwoman · 20 days ago

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Wow, look at me, not having 4am brain rot 😂 this has been a brain worm since I first posted about Tides of the heart though and someone mentioned about Siren Wade and Logan. And I’ve been thinking about it and as I was cooking dinner earlier I was thinking about it and I went to go talk to my partner about it and I saw he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean, the one with the mermaids. I know they’re not exactly the same thing but it was close enough for me to be like “Yup, this is a sign.” So here we go. Also I’m making up some of my own lore mixed with stuff I’ve read on them 😂

This is after Wade saves Logan from the water after he went overboard during a storm. Might tweak it if I write a full fic.

———————

The storm had passed, leaving the beach quiet under the pale glow of the moon. Waves gently lapped at the shore, the sound a soothing contrast to the chaos that had nearly swallowed Logan earlier. He sat on the damp sand, his muscles aching and his mind spinning as he stared at the figure before him.

Half-submerged in the shallows was a man, or something like one. His upper body could almost pass for human if not for the faint shimmer of his skin in the moonlight and the too-sharp angles of his grin. Below the waist, however, a long, glistening tail shimmered red and black, curling lazily in the water as if mocking the impossible.

“You’ve been watching us,” Logan said slowly, his voice hoarse from seawater and disbelief. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact he was still struggling to process.

“For days,” the man replied casually, his melodic voice carrying over the quiet waves. “Your boat’s noisy, your crew’s noisier than a pod of dolphins chasing fish.”

Logan frowned, his muscles tensing as unease prickled up his spine. “Why did you save me?”

Wade’s grin widened, revealing sharp teeth that glinted in the moonlight. “You’re… different. Interesting.”

Logan shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to feel flattered or unnerved. “Different how?”

Wade’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he tilted his head. “Oh, lots of ways. But let’s start with your name. What do they call you, sailor?”

Logan hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to stay silent. But something about Wade’s piercing gaze, and the fact that he still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not, pushed him to answer. “Logan.”

“Logan,” Wade repeated, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Strong. Simple. Suits you.”

Logan glanced at him warily. “And you? What do I call you?”

Wade smirked, leaning forward slightly. “You could try pronouncing it, but… well, you’d have to cut out your tongue first.”

Logan stiffened, instinctively shifting back on the sand. Wade held his gaze for a long, tense moment before his grin broke into a laugh, bright and carefree.

“Relax,” Wade said, waving a webbed hand dismissively. “I’m joking. You can call me Wade.”

Logan grunted, still not entirely reassured. “Real funny.”

“I thought so,” Wade said, flashing another grin before leaning forward on his arms, his tail stirring the water behind him.

Logan was trying to process what was going on right now when his mind froze. His stomach dropped as he remembered his father’s lighter. His most prized possession. His hand shot into his pocket, fumbling until he felt the familiar shape. Pulling it out, he turned it over in his hands, relief flooding him when he saw it was intact.

“What is that?” Wade asked, inching closer, his curiosity palpable.

“It’s a lighter,” Logan said, flicking it open. A tiny flame flared to life, its warm glow dancing in the cool night air.

Wade’s eyes widened, his expression transforming into pure wonder. “What’s it for?”

“Fire,” Logan said, holding it up but keeping it at a distance. “You use it to start fires.”

“Fire? Like those orange and yellow ships when lightening hits them?” Wade asked, his voice soft with awe. He inched closer, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Don’t touch it,” Logan warned. “It burns.”

But before Logan could stop him, Wade reached out, his finger brushing the flame. A sharp hiss escaped him, and he yanked his hand back, plunging it into the water with a splash. “Ow! What the hell?”

Logan barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he clicked the lighter shut. “I told you. Fire burns.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Wade shot back, glaring at the lighter like it had personally wronged him. “I live underwater. We don’t exactly have a lot of that down there .”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

Wade huffed, inspecting his finger with an exaggerated pout. “You’re lucky you’re pretty. Otherwise, I would’ve left you to the sharks.”

Logan stilled, his amusement fading as Wade’s words hung in the air. Logan couldn’t tell if he was joking again but the siren’s the predatory glint in his eyes as he watched Logan squirm didn’t help.

Logan cleared his throat, ready to say something, when a distant shout broke the silence. His head snapped toward the sound, and he spotted the dim glow of lanterns further up the beach. His crew.

“Logan! You out there?” one voice called.

Logan turned back toward Wade, but his breath caught in his throat. All he saw was the shimmering tail dipping back into the waves, vanishing beneath the surface. The water stilled as if he’d never been there at all.

“Logan!” Another shout grew louder as the crew came running down the beach. Within moments, two of them were at his side, helping him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Scott asked, his lantern swinging wildly as he scanned Logan for injuries. “What happened? We thought you were lost.”

Logan hesitated, his gaze flicking back to the now-empty water. “I… I must’ve swam to shore. Can’t remember much. Maybe I hit my head.”

“You’re lucky you made it, some of the lads weren’t so lucky,” Scott said gravely, slinging Logan’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, we’re going to find shelter.”

Logan let himself be guided away, his body still aching and his mind reeling. As they trudged up the beach, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, his eyes scanning the dark waves. For a moment, he thought he saw something, a head poking out of the water, watching them.

The figure disappeared before Logan could be sure.

——————

I hope you liked it! I’m thinking of doing a new fic now, to add on to all my WIP’s since I’ve finished This life chose us, and Tides of the heart is almost finished. I’ve got 3 ideas brewing from bits and pieces I’ve put up on tumblr from my 4am brain rot (feel free to read them on my blog to help pick which one you like the idea of.

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #logan howlett #peanutbub #wade wilson

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colormepurplex2 · 10 days ago

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The Sirens' Song | Into The Deep

↳ Namjoon x Jimin x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Merfolk/Sirens, Myth/Legend, Fantasy AU ⤜ Rating: MA🔞 ⤜ WC: 7,688 ⚠️Melancholy thoughts, crass language, shipwreck, mild fear, mentions of death, grief

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

In the moon’s glow, where darkness plays, The ocean breathes in rhythmic ways. Against obsidian rocks that are jagged and proud, The tempest whispers secrets, fierce yet loud. Each wave a tale of journeys long gone, Of the briny depth’s roar laced with siren’s song. She foams and crashes, wild and free, A dance of power like a haunting symphony. The salt-kissed air filled with misty spray, Birthing endless nights that will never give way. Watch her still, the tide, relentless; she seeks To carve the stone with her lashing peaks. From rocky cliffs, the sirens wail, Their haunting voices spin a tale. Of sailors lost in the tempest's grip, Drawn to the edge, where they are oft to slip. In Black Rock Bay, the legends doth swell, Of gold and gems that decorate a haunting hell. As storm clouds gather and shadows creep, The restless spirits never sleep. For in this bay where echoes cling, The tempest rages, and the sirens sing.

The song continues, the bard sitting by the fire supporting the mournful words with the harp settled across his lap. His gnarled fingers surprisingly spry on the delicate strings. The dower tune does nothing to bolster your dreary mood. Not even the tankard of sour ale clasped between your palms seems to be working. If anything, the song only proves to darken your heart further.

You’ve heard stories about Black Rock Bay, with the treacherous breaker waves constantly lashing at the jutting obsidian spires that are said to hide untold treasures if one can make it through the squall and ripping current. That is, if you don’t get swindled away into the black abyss enthralled by a siren’s song first.

Just last summer, Miguel, the man you had been sharing your bed with, stole away in the middle of the night with your ship and crew with a course chartered to Black Rock Bay. Fool’s you, you suppose, for letting a man get that close to you. It’s hard enough being a woman, harder still being a woman who is also the captain of a ship. It took you almost a decade to earn your sails and the loyalty of your crew—or so you thought, bunch of mutinous fish guts, the lot of them.

You hope Miguel is somewhere at the bottom of the bay, the sirens using his bones to pick their teeth. The last year has been challenging, trying to rebuild what you once had. But you have enough salt in your veins that it would take more than a stab in the back to see you give up. The hardest part has been gathering a new crew. As it is now, you have the bare minimum of bodies needed to man your new ship. And you’re not sure a few wouldn’t do the same as Miguel did for the right price.

After all, being a pirate comes with its fair share of dangers.

But…maybe… It sits like a lead weight in your belly, the idea of conquering Black Rock Bay out of spite. No one would ever dare to laugh or betray you then, no daggers in your back or sweet smiles slithering their way into your bed only to strike with venom while you’re least expecting it. You’d be a legend. There would be many songs written, stories told far and wide...

“‘Ey, Cap, we off with the sun?” The spritely voice of your best friend, and the only crew member who didn’t take off with Miguel, pipes up from beside you, breaking through your mental wallowing. She slides her petite frame onto the bench beside you, her elbow jostling yours and causing some of the now-luke-warm ale from your tankard to slosh onto your hand. “Oh, sorry,” she adds with a nervous chuckle. “Let me just…” She snatches a handkerchief that has seen better days from her coat pocket and dabs at your hand and the table.

“Ollie, leave it, it’s fine.”

She gives you a gap-toothed grin, her freckled cheeks coloring as she stuffs her soiled handkerchief back into her pocket. Olivia Ramsey has been your friend since you were both urchins on the street fighting over crusts of moldy bread.

You never knew your parents, only that your mother was a flavor that many were partial to, and she indulged for the right amount of coin. It’s supposed that you were begotten on her by one of those men—a pirate, most likely. Once you were old enough to pilfer your own meals, not quite ten, those proverbial apron strings everyone believes mothers possess were indefinitely sheered off at the source. All your memories of her are vague, a hazy figure shooing you away from a darkened doorway...a woman too busy earning her next coin to worry about the ill-gotten welp that she saw as more of a curse than a blessing.

Ollie came from a loving home. Or as loving as an ill-favored family can be. Her father had a gambling problem, and her mother had the spine of a jellyfish. When she was seven, she ended up being the payment of a gambling debt. Servitude to an upper household was her fate. At some point or another—the details are muddled to you as Ollie changes the story just about as many times as she’s told it—she escaped and tried to make her way back to her parents, only to find the house empty when she returned.

It wasn’t long after the two of you became struggling companions that you noticed she sometimes sought answers about her family. You followed her once when she slipped off in the middle of the night, right to the door of a gentlemen’s club. That’s when she discovered she could pass in men’s spaces, thought to be a boy sneaking about. The men would laugh at ‘him’ and be none the wiser to their spilled secrets being consumed by feminine ears.

You look her over now, automatically taking account of her constitution. Curls of her straw-colored hair peek out from under the knit cap pulled low on her head. It’s part of her ploy, continuing to dupe men and cleverly blend in in places where you would be turned away at the door.

“If we leave wi’the sun, there’s a chance we beat Fat Al through the breakers and can hit the reef first.”

You sigh, giving your friend a sidelong look before pushing away your ale and angling your body toward hers. As nice as it would be to put that sniveling pock-marked arse of a wannabe pirate Fat Al in his place…a new plan is formulating in your mind. Slumping slightly, you drape an arm over her shoulders and put your mouth close to her ear.

“I say we let Fat Al have the reef.” Your eyes flick to the bard still crooning about briny ocean air and hauntingly beautiful creatures harboring chests of riches. “There is another place I have set my sights on…”

🌊🌊🌊

Jimin

There is a storm brewing. Jimin can feel it in how the temperature changes in the currents. He’s long since grown used to the drastic changes when the cooler waters from deeper in the ocean surge up into the warmer surface waters. After all, his home has always been this bay, where storms often rage in the skies overhead.

What he isn’t used to is seeing the giant belly of a boat slicing through the water of his bay. More often, the boats that attempt to come to the island of Black Rock Bay come in on the eastern side of the isle where the shore looks smoother and more welcoming—though it is anything but, with its hidden reefs and jagged lava rock just below the surface of the ocean.

“What do you think?” Namjoon’s voice so close startles Jimin out of his vigilant assessment.

“Storms coming on too strong. The ship won’t make it into the bay before the breakers gain height. Most likely, it’ll end up in pieces scattered along the shore,” Jimin murmurs, the frilled gills along the sides of his neck opening and closing, emitting small streamers of bubbles with his words.

“Should we send out the runners and try to steer them clear?”

Jimin thinks on this for a second before shaking his head. “They won’t make it here in time, perhaps if we had asked them before the sun went down just in case this happened. Yoongi would do his best, but…no, my love, we just have to wait and see what grace Calypso may grant these poor souls.”

He knows that even if Yoongi could coax a few of the larger whales to the surface, they’d barely make a difference in causing the boat to change course. As it is, it would be unlikely for whoever’s manning the ship to even see the whales, considering how dark the sky is and how violent the sea is becoming. They’re more likely to accidentally clip one of the gentle beasts than see them.

Namjoon nods, implicitly accepting Jimin’s judgement without question. “We best go deeper; I can already feel the tug of the tide. You’ll be swept away if you linger this close to the surface.”

It’s just as Jimin expects. The sea is angry, thrashing heavy squalls against the shore. Gusts of wind rip through the air, with piercing screams to rival the ocean's own shrill cries. Even from this far down, Jimin can hear the cacophony causing the wood of the boat to groan and creak.

Namjoon’s arms tighten around Jimin. They both watch in horror as the wide berth of the ship rocks violently, getting tossed around like a child’s toy by the turmoil of the sea. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Namjoon murmurs in Jimin’s ear, the bubbles from his words getting lost in the swift currents moving around them.

They’re both watching from the relative safety of one of the many underwater passageways that zig-zag through the underbelly of the island of Black Rock Bay. Small windows look out into the open water, doubling as entrances to the tunnel systems.

It’s like watching a painting come to life, the edges of the window acting as the frame. The boat daring to chart through the bay must be manned by a demi-god, as they continue to battle and persist against the storm.

Jimin is in awe at the display of sheer will. Despite being tossed around with every crashing wave against its bulwark, it careens ever closer to the jagged rocks along the shore, but somehow, the boat rights itself every time and manages to dodge the deathly peaks.

“Whoever they are…if they can navigate through this storm without breaking their ship on the rocks, I’ll personally give them enough gold to fill their hold,” Jimin tells Namjoon as his eyes stay locked on the vessel overhead.

The rough stone lip of the window makes his fingers ache as he clenches them around it every time the ship comes close to one of the outcroppings of old lava rock hidden by the foaming, swirling sea.

“You think they’ll make it?”

Just as Jimin opens his mouth to respond to Namjoon, the first reverberating impact thunders through the bay. Just as the boat started to swing one way, the raucous waves sent it into a near tail-spin without enough time for correction.

Wood splinters, the ocean roaring its victory as it floods into the bilge of the ship, filling it with far more water than it could hold. Jimin sighs, his chest aching from knowing that this was the inevitable end. Even though he had spoken the truth, maybe this fate might have been avoided if he had kept his mouth shut.

Or better yet, maybe if he had agreed to let Yoongi call for the runners, the souls lost above wouldn’t have been swept away by the ravaging sea. Even a tiny chance would have been better than watching this catastrophe; no matter how fruitful the spoils might be from the wreckage. But it’s too late now.

The boat's keel ruptures as it runs along one of the bigger jagged points of bedrock, like a sharp knife through kelp. With that surrender of wood to rock, Jimin knows there is no hope for the ship; it’s been ripped open from stern to bow. They can only watch…wait, and maybe catch an unfortunate soul or two and try to help.

Just as the thought passes Jimin’s mind, Namjoon gasps. He thrusts a hand out over Jimin’s shoulder. “Do you see that?”

Jimin shakes his head, eyes frantically searching the dark, murky waters. Suddenly, he sees them, a flailing figure struggling through one of the rip currents. Jimin doesn’t think twice, using his grip on the window's ledge to propel himself forward. Namjoon is a second behind him, his powerful pearlescent tail hurtling him past Jimin.

“Go!” Jimin urges when Namjoon glances back at him. He can see the hesitation in Namjoon’s eyes, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Jimin behind with the waters so turbulent. “Don’t worry about me!”

Namjoon gives him a resolute nod before renewing his efforts upward. Jimin watches, his own tail and muscles straining as he fights the currents, as Namjoon dodges through the debris field where they last saw the figure in the water.

For one harrowing second, Jimin loses sight of Namjoon around a large piece of ship wreckage. A relieved cry catches in Jimin’s throat as Namjoon reappears, his arms cradling a much smaller being.

“A woman,” Namjoon grunts when Jimin reaches him. “I didn’t see any others.”

Jimin uses his arms to push himself backward, trailing slowly after Namjoon, who doubles his efforts to drag the limp woman toward the opening to one of their open-air caves. It’s a short swim, but all the same, Jimin worries for the woman. There is no telling how long she’s been under or when the last time she had a breath of air was.

Worry eats away at the pit of Jimin’s stomach as he watches large swaths of sail and immense sheets of timber sink to litter the bottom of the bay. Something tells him if anyone else was aboard that ship, they’re lost to the sea. With one final sweep of his eyes over the wreckage, he turns and slips into the tunnel, following after Namjoon and the woman he is carrying in his arms with the hope they will be able to help her.

🌊🌊🌊

Chills seep into your body, burrowing all the way down to your bones. Everything aches. You feel like you just went on a two-week bender and fell into the ocean. Your clothes are sodden, and you feel the violent urge to sick up…maybe you had gone on a bender…

The urge becomes too much, and you heave onto your side, emptying briny water and bile from your belly. It burns on the way out, clogging your nose and making your eyes water as you retch onto the sand.

Clarity begins to ebb in, and the fact you’re lying in the sand with the moon and stars twinkling from above makes no sense because the last thing you remember is—Fuck!

You fling yourself up onto your backside, stirring a shower of wet sand into the air, and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth, the sudden movement of sitting up threatening to have you heaving once more.

Swallowing the bile bubbling up, you cough before shouting, “Ollie?!” Your voice is hoarse, the ocean water having stripped your throat raw. “Please, Ollie?!”

The sand shifts beneath your unsteady feet as you struggle to stand. You tilt wildly to the side, your balance off and everything around you showing double. Finally, the shore stops spinning, and you can take in everything around you.

Fat and heavy overhead, the moon illuminates stray bits of what you can only assume is your ship dotting the sand—about thirty feet from the shoreline, a thick jungle stretches in either direction as far as you can see. You wouldn’t have guessed the sky was full of turmoil just…hours ago? Well, you assume it’s only been hours, at least; it’s hard to be sure, but judging by the moon's position, you think you’re right.

You know you should have turned around as soon as the first streak of lightning lit up the horizon. But, with Ollie reassuring you, along with the bolstered attitude from the rest of the crew, you pressed forward, hands tight to the wheel as you steered the bow toward the distant shoreline.

It was with the intent of anchoring just outside the breaker point of the bay, where the reef and lava rock can be seen jutting from the waters. However, the winds were too strong, and the storm tossed the boat about and put you completely off course, right into the path of the old slag tunnels.

You remember how the ship shuddered, the piercing squeal of wood and iron giving in to the relentless power of the rock. Ollie’s alarmed face was the last thing you remember seeing before the whole boat rocked hard to the side, and you were ripped from the helm by the force and sent tumbling into the dark waters of the bay.

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from ahead of you—from the jungle. You stop and listen, holding your breath before exhaling in a rush. “Ollie!” you call, scrambling toward the tree line. “Ollie! Jameson! Red! Anyone?”

Darkness swallows you as you stumble ahead, arms wheeling to keep yourself upright. You shove against trees, using their rough, wet trunks for support as you propel yourself through the underbrush.

“Captain.”

The word shivers down your spine, seeming to come from all directions. You spin in a circle, wet greenery whipping you in the face. The deep emerald greens and rich browns of the jungle are barely perceptible, with the meager moonlight filtering through the dense overhead canopy.

“Ollie!” you scream, the name echoing around you ten-fold. “Where are you? Ollie, can you hear me!?”

“Captain of the shining sea.”

“Looking here, looking there; come to find me.”

“Ollie, this isn’t funny,” you croak. The silence that follows is deafening. Not even insect noise or the hum of wildlife greets you. “Please.” The word falls in a whisper from your trembling lips.

“Captain, Captain of the shining sea. Looking here, looking there; come to find me.”

The words repeat, only this time there is a distinct lilting quality that makes your blood run cold. Ollie isn’t a singer. More so, the entire crew would rather shove nails under their fingernails than belt any sea shanty.

Only one thing comes to mind: a singular possibility as to who—what—it could be.

Sirens. Luring you to your death, enticing the next meal that will fill their bellies.

Foolish, so foolish. And you want legendary songs written about you. You scoff to yourself. The only songs they’ll be writing about you will be the tragic or humorous kind. Everyone will have a good laugh after they toast your memory. No wonder everyone thinks women are bad luck aboard pirate ships. Here you are proving them right.

Turning on your toes, you do your best to hurry back the way you came. Only it’s impossible to tell which way is which in the dark. Everything looks the same. The words continue to haunt you, nipping at your heels no matter how far you manage to go.

“Captain, Captain of the shining sea…”

“Stop! Stop it! Leave me—”

The rest of your plea turns into a shriek as you hurtle down a steep incline. Pain races through your limbs as they smack into trees and bushes, your descent an uncontrollable plummet.

The ground rises to meet you, the stark reality of your situation flashing before your eyes right before your head meets the unforgiving surface of a rock, and everything goes black.

🌊🌊🌊

Namjoon

“Where did she go? She was right here! You said you’d look after her while I got the stew going.”

Jimin scowls at Namjoon, gesturing to the space where the human woman was just moments ago.

“Simmer down. I’ll go look for her. She can’t have gone far.” In fact, Namjoon is relatively sure he knows exactly where she went.

“No harm better come to her, Namjoon. I mean it!” Jimin’s sour attitude follows Namjoon as he shuffles out into the jungle. It would be better if the sun were out, but as it is, his vision is only mildly impacted by the dark of night. If he were able to assume his mer-form, he’d have no issues at all. Being on two legs only serves as a minor hindrance, mainly in things like hearing and sight.

It’s not like Namjoon intended for the female to wake up and immediately seek to escape. Granted, Namjoon’s knowledge of human females is nearly as limited as Jimin’s, but he at least thought she might wait around to listen to him. He had only stepped away for a second, seeking to put on some acceptable clothing and then bring her some fresh water to drink so it might help clear her head.

“Oh,” Namjoon startles. “What do we have here?” He crouches down next to the crumpled form of a woman. The clothing is similar enough, but the woman is not the same one he rescued from the wreckage.

“Namjoon!” a familiar voice calls a moment before the sound of crunching leaves and soft grunts enters the small clearing at the foot of the incline leading into the heart of the jungle.

“Hoseok? What are you—oh, you found her.”

“Put me down, ya fish-eyed freak! Put me…fuck! Captain, oh seven seas, Captain! Put me down, for salt's sake!”

The small woman Namjoon rescued from the wreckage tumbles from Hoseok’s arms. She scrambles forward on her hands and knees to kneel beside the prone woman at Namjoon’s feet.

“You shouldn’t have wandered off,” Namjoon begins, only to be cut off by the murderous glare thrown up at him.

“What did ya do to ‘er?! I swear to the goddess below, if ya so much as put your slimy hands on ‘er, I’ll gut ya like the fish ya are!”

Namjoon backs away, his very not slimy hands in the air before him. “I only just found her. She was already like that.”

Hoseok shuffles his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It was probably the others. I heard them singing earlier. I was coming to get you when I stumbled upon this one,” he says, gesturing with his other hand at the small woman with freckled cheeks and short blond curls, “trying to climb the cliffs. Nearly went over back into the ocean.”

“You have to help ‘er,” the blond woman says, all the fiery ire gone from her voice. She gently brushes sand from the other woman’s cheeks and hair, her fingers coming away sticky with blood. “Please.”

Namjoon had no intention of not helping the woman from the start. But, to placate the small one, he nods his agreement. “I will do what I can. But I need to pick her up.”

The blond one gives him a lingering look, clearly judging his merit, before sliding back on her knees to provide Namjoon with the space he needs to kneel beside the prone woman.

“Be careful wi’ ‘er head.”

Namjoon’s lips purse into a frown, his brain trying desperately to place the woman’s accent. It’s a mixed jumble, consisting of influence seemingly from multiple places. When the woman waves a frantic hand in Namjoon’s face, he blinks, startling back to the task at hand. There will be plenty of time later to figure out where the humans have come from.

Doing just as instructed, with careful ease, Namjoon takes the unconscious woman into his arms, letting her head rest against his naked chest. The linen trousers he pulled on earlier only come to mid-calf, his feet bare of the shoes he knows humans are partial to. The short pants were the only thing he found in Jimin’s chest of human treasures that remotely fit. It’s been so long since either of them had the company of someone other than their own kind that it hadn’t dawned on Namjoon that greeting the young woman in nothing but his skin wouldn’t be proper.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon says, dismissing his inner thoughts about human propriety surrounding clothing, and nods toward the opening to the cave system where Jimin should be waiting.

Hoseok, who is one of Namjoon’s closest friends, trails his eyes over the blond woman before offering her his hand. “Would you like to come with her?”

With no outward hesitation other than the slight narrowing of her eyes, the small woman slides her hand into Hoseok’s, and he hauls her to her feet. “I’m Ollie, by the way,” she says, her shorter legs keeping pace with Hoseok’s with little issue. “And, you’re Hoseok?” Namjoon has never seen his friend nervous, but right now, he’s pretty confident that’s exactly the emotion coloring his friend’s cheeks. Hoseok nods. “Well, I have a lot o’ questions, Hoseok. Maybe ya can answer some as we walk.”

🌊🌊🌊

You’ve had your fair share of blackouts in your life. What with how sour ale can fill your belly and the enticing bet to drink someone under the table…you’d be remiss in saying you’ve never awoken a time or two in a strange place with only a small inkling of how you ended up there.

However, doing it twice in a row is something new. Your head aches. Differently than it had before when you awoke on the beach. This is a skull-deep pounding, something that only comes when you catch an errant fist in a fight or take a sail boom to the back of the head.

You want to empty your stomach for a whole different reason now. The sickly feeling swirls in your belly, your eyes fluttering open as you dry retch. “Fuck,” you whisper coarsely.

“Captain!”

The relief at hearing Ollie’s voice is second to the splitting pain that ricochets through your head at her volume. “Softer, Ollie.”

“Oh, right.” Her freckled cheeks plump around the sheepish smile she gives you. “Sorry ‘bout that, Cap. I’m jus’ so happy to see ya awake. Ya plum near ended my days, seein’ ya layin’ there on the ground wi’ your head split open like a melon.”

You tenderly probe at the lump forming over your right temple. It’s warm to the touch, the flesh swollen and aching. You can feel the rough humps of stitching crisscrossing over the edge of the lump. You wince as your fingers map across the seven sutures. “I must look a sight. Did you stitch me up?”

“Beautiful as always, Cap. Would take a wonder stronger than’a rock to change that. And I wish I could take credit for ‘at beautiful jab job, but it wasn’t me.”

Gods love this woman; she’s a treasure you don’t deserve. Your eyes focus enough that you can take her in wholly. She sports her own discolored lump on the side of her jaw, and dark circles rim the soft skin under her eyes. There is a split at the corner of her mouth, and her right arm, you realize, is secured in a burlap sling. You’re so overwhelmed with taking her in that you don’t even register that she said she wasn’t the one to stitch you up. “Oh, Ollie,” you whisper softly. “What did I do to you?”

She jerks upright, indignation written all over her face. “This wasn’t you, Cap. This was that surly sea we love so much. Ain’t nothin’ I’ve never had before.” It’s clear she believes that wholeheartedly with the stern look in her eyes. “Besides, ya ought not worry about me. How’s yar head?”

You sit up slowly, your vision narrowing slightly as your world rights itself. Blinking, you let your eyes slide over your surroundings, taking an account of what’s around you. A soft mat and scattered blankets create a nest of comfort under you.

The walls are smooth stone with tiny carved-out nitches that form shelves holding a mix of books, shells, and other small trinkets. There is a homey feel to the sea cave, with a few chests and other odd bits of furniture lining the walls. You’d almost think you were in a bizarrely themed boarding room if it weren’t for the giant opening in the floor some feet away, the soft lap of water nibbling at the hole's edge.

Lichen sticks to the ceiling, its soft blue and green glow giving enough light that your eyes aren’t straining as you continue your perusal. Aside from the large hole in the floor, a narrow doorway leads into darkness on the other side of the room.

“Where are we?” you ask, choosing to focus on finding answers of your own rather than the incessant pounding of your skull.

Ollie rocks back on her heels, wrapping her good arm around her knees. You notice she’s not wearing the same clothes she wore the last time you saw her on the boat. Ugh, the boat…you don’t even want to think about that right now. The faded green tunic and sandy-colored breeches dwarf her tiny frame, the neck of the top hanging off one of her shoulders. You glance down and see her petite toes, her shoes nowhere to be seen.

She wiggles her toes, giggling softly. “Hoseok says bare feet’re better for walkin’ the tunnels. Less likely to slip and split my own noggin’.” She emphasizes the words with a rap of her knuckles against the side of her blond curl-covered head.

“Hoseok?” you ask, your attention catching on that name. It’s familiar, almost like you heard it in a dream, but far too fuzzy for you to be sure.

“Oh, he’s—”

“He’s right here,” chirps a jovial, masculine voice from the passageway across the room. “Nice to see you awake. Think you could stomach some stew? Would do you well to get something in your body.”

Your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the nearly naked man shuffling into the cavernous space. In his hands is a wide wooden board covered in what looks like chunks of bread, sliced fruit, and a bowl of steaming stew. The smell of the luscious, smoky broth hits your nose as he draws closer, and your stomach gives an appreciative gurgle.

“I promise the food is safe ta’ eat,” Ollie whispers, slanting a hand against her mouth in your direction. “It’s smoked fish stew. I had some earlier and even asked after seconds.”

That captures your attention, your eyes swinging in her direction, an incredulous look overtaking your face. “Ollie—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Rule number one: don’t accept food from blokes ya don’t know. But, Cap, I was starvin’, and I knew ya’d be in need of some food when ya woke. So, really, I did it for ya, had to make sure they wasn’t tryin’ to poison ya.”

You take a moment to assess Ollie’s countenance, realizing that aside from the visible bruises from her toss into the ocean, she seems no worse for wear. Her pallor is rosey, a healthy flush beneath her freckles, and her eyes are bright and clear.

“Just some water,” you say, your gaze flicking towards this Hoseok character.

“But, Cap—”

“For now, Ol. Just to be sure my stomach doesn’t sick up from anything more hearty.”

You hate lying to her. Even though she seems to be of her right mind, she almost seems too eager…too trusting. Which is so far removed from the Olivia Ramsey you know, the one who would turn her nose up in suspicion at even the slightest hint of stink. And this has the ripe stench of three-day-old chum all over it.

“Water then.” Hoseok nods, though his lips kick down in a frown as he sets the tray laden with food beside the tangle of blankets and pillows you woke up on.

“Thank you,” you mutter as Ollie hands you a ceramic cup from the tray. The contents look clear enough and holds no distinct odor as you give it a tentative sniff before putting it to your lips.

The water is crisp and surprisingly cool, tasting faintly earthy like it came directly from a rocky stream. You gulp it down, your aching and raw throat rejoicing with the soothing relief.

Hoseok squats down beside Ollie, your eyes tracking his every movement. His pants are thin, the worn fabric hanging loosely from his frame. It’s clear they’re not new, perhaps aged even further from the constant wear from the briny ocean air. His chest is bare, emphasizing a slender frame with smooth, corded muscles. His trousers might be worse for wear, but his eyes are a clear, beautiful brown, complimenting the shag of black hair on his head…though, there is something off-putting about him…something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I hope those stitches are okay. I tried not to tie them off too tightly, but it has been quite some time since I last performed such a task.”

Your lips twitch, brows furrowing ever so slightly. In all your years, you’ve had your fair share of stitches with everything from catgut wire to medical-grade thread. With just the brief inspection you gave your sutures, you can tell they’re on the better side. You’d maybe even go so far as to say they’re on par with a medical professional. Perhaps this Hoseok character is a sea-lost doctor washed up on shore once upon a time, the same as you and Ollie. “What is this place?” you ask him, your fingers flexing around the empty cup clasped in your hands.

“A sea cave—”

“No. I mean, what is this whole place? Where are we, exactly?” Your eyes flick away from him, darting across the walls as if you tried hard enough that you could see through the dark stone and figure it out yourself.

“I believe your kind calls this place Black Rock Bay. Though, that’s truly a misnomer, considering the rocks in the bay are more of a dark blue than black, but I can see how one might make that mistake.”

You blink at him, the cogs in your mind trying desperately to lock the details into place. Two things stand out above all the others—your kind and Black Rock Bay. So, clearly not a medical professional, and, wait—

“We truly made it?” you whisper, your lips suddenly feeling numb and your tongue thick like molasses.

“Just you n’me.” Ollie’s voice slices through the silence, landing you harshly back into the very stark reality of what happened. Your eyes meet hers for a brief moment, and she winces, an apology already forming on her cracked lips.

You shake your head, addressing her before she can take back her words. “There were no other survivors?”

The question was addressed to Hoseok, but another voice answers you. “None that we’ve found thus far, but we are still searching the shore and the wreckage.”

You’re better than the sound that rips from your throat. Maybe if you hadn’t taken a knock to the head, you’d have been able to hold your ground and have suppressed the surprise. As it is, the unintelligible squawk you emit echoes around the cavernous chamber as your eyes widen on the figure emerging from the lagoon pool on the other side of the room.

Pearlescent scales ripple along strong arms as hands brace against the lip of the lagoon. The shimmery teardrop shapes spread over an impeccably defined chest, blending into the creamy skin of a toned stomach and narrow hips before ending at the ridged blue and green band of a…tail? The long, flowing appendage slides over the stone as the figure pushes themselves completely out of the lagoon opening.

Water slicks off of them, the soft sloshing sending a gentle spray of misted salt water into the air. You watch in abject shock as the scales slowly recede with every drop of moisture that wicks away as the newcomer quickly brushes a length of fabric they grabbed from a nearby shelf over their body.

You want to reach out and finger the wet lengths of hair that swing with their every movement, like scattered moonlight on ocean waves. You’ve never seen hair quite so bright; it’s even lighter than the wheat-colored curls adorning Ollie’s head.

It’s a mesmerizing sight, watching the way the glittering scales disappear, melting away to reveal smooth and supple skin as if they never existed. Slender legs take shape; flexing toes and taut muscles speak of a delicate grace you’d never have associated with the male form before. And male it is…the very breath in your lungs stills as your eyes catch on the faint outline of a very prominent appendage before it’s covered by the now-damp cloth as he wraps it around his waist.

Brilliant mocha-colored eyes meet yours, the center of a controlled, measured look that gives absolutely nothing away. “Easy, Cap,” Ollie whispers a moment before you feel her hand grazing along your jaw.

You firmly snap your gaping mouth shut.

“I wish I had better news to share with you. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the storm you attempted to sail through was not a kind one. You’re fortunate to be alive, the both of you.”

“Holy Shining Seas,” Ollie mumbles, her fingers crossing over her chest in a sign meant to ward off evil. It’s an automatic gesture, one she does without thought, ingrained in her from a young age; well before she met the fates of the streets.

Your fingers itch to make their own sign. The few weeks you spent with Sister Agatha in the convent are ones sorely hard to forget, even at the best of times. You’ve never been religious, far from it. But those two weeks made you feel closer to hell than the deepest trench of the ocean ever could.

Clenching your fingers closed in the quilt beneath you, your mouth pops open instead. “Y-you…wait, you—is that? Was that—you, uh, your—your skin,” the last word comes out barely louder than a whisper.

Hoseok stands and crosses the room, snagging a pair of trousers from an open chest. He tosses them at the newcomer, firmly scolding him, “You know better than to skin shift in front of humans. Why didn’t you come in through the central lagoon?”

At that moment another voice filters through the room, coming from the same direction Hoseok had entered through. Your eyes flick away from the first unknown male to the empty doorway, a second before a tall, silver-haired man wearing pants far too short for him, and nothing else appears. In his hands is a worn red cap.

“I told Jimin it was a bad idea. But, you know how he is, a will stronger than the southern currents.”

The stranger with the calculating gaze—Jimin, it seems—rolls his eyes and huffs out an annoyed breath. “Would rather rip it out like an urchin barb, Namjoon, get it over with. Better that way in the long of it, considering our visitors will be here for quite some time.”

Namjoon. Jimin. Hoseok. Your eyes flick between the three strangers, noting the same sense you got from Hoseok earlier also radiates from the other two. As you watch them exchange heated words, the low timbre of their voices making their words hard to discern, Jimin tugs on the trousers Hoseok threw at him, and you realize what that odd feeling is. They’re…perfect. Too perfect, otherworldly.

It’s unnerving.

And now you’re sure you know why. As plain as the pearlescent scales and tail, the truth screams at you from the smooth skin of their foreheads to the perfectly straight, white teeth behind their rose-hued lips. No mere human could be so pristine. Clearly, the bewitching nature of a siren isn’t just exaggerated prose reserved for their voices.

“Is that Red’s cap?” Ollie asks, her voice low, meant only for your ears.

You force your eyes away from studying their faces to the crumpled lump clasped in Namjoon’s hands. It’s a detail your brain registered earlier but clearly was too muddled to fully comprehend.

“Where did you find that?” you ask, but you are only met with silence in response. The three males are still caught up in their soft bickering. You give Ollie a sidelong look, your face pinched in a frown before demanding louder, “Excuse me!”

Your barked words echo through the chamber, rebounding ten-fold and making even you wince at the sharp, biting sound.

“Where did you find that?” Ollie’s voice fills the sudden silence as she nods her head at the red cap in Namjoon’s grip.

Namjoon loosens his hold on the worn red fabric, the once vibrant carmine faded by the salt and sun to a tawny vermilion. An unmistakable blob of golden thread peeks out from one of the edges where Jory ‘Red’ Meander had haphazardly tried to stitch together a hole put there by a disgruntled card companion.

He had a penchant for gambling, not always with honest intentions, either. A scoundrel with a quick smile and charming hazel eyes. Despite being barely old enough to be let loose from his mother’s skirts, Jory joined your crew mere weeks before you got it in your head to chart a course for Black Rock Bay, demanding with a puffed-out chest that everyone refer to him as ‘Red’, like the color of his hat and the blood spilled at the end of his rapier, from here on out. Said it was a better-suited name for a future pirate mogul than Jory.

A few nights into your journey towards Black Roy Back, as you sat with Red in the crow’s nest watching the moon slip through the sky, he confessed that he actually chose the name Red because it reminded him of his mother with her fiery red hair and spit-fire attitude. But he figured that wouldn’t be a very pirate-like reason. He honestly had no business on your ship…but you were desperate for a full crew and, well—

“I-uh, I found it on the beach…I followed your footsteps back through the jungle.” Namjoon clears his throat before stepping close and offering the cap to you. “There was a man…a boy, really. His body—I’m sorry.”

You hesitantly take the hat. The soft fabric flops over the back of your hand, and a memory flashes through your mind. Red screaming at you, the stupid hat he refused to ever take off, sluicing the stinging water into his eyes, hauling you bodily through the turbulent water. Red forcing you above water, pleading with you to hold on…

Tears fill your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. Anger replaces the hurt pounding away in your chest. You will not fall apart now…not when…fuck. You furiously wipe at your eyes, sniffing back the burn welling in your nose. Red would laugh and waggle his brows at you if he knew you were getting choked up over him.

“Have you found others? Bodies, I mean.”

Jimin and Namjoon share a look, an exchange of words without making a sound.

Red. Jameson. McLaughlin. Straub. Okiro.

From the descriptions provided to you by Namjoon and Jimin, you mentally etch their names into your psyche. Men whose loyalty you once questioned are now forever lost to this world because of your petty grievances and selfish desires. And more yet to be confirmed…

You worry the edge of your thumbnail, fisting the red cap in your other hand over and over.

“Maybe ya should eat somethin’, Cap.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at Ollie right now, lest you might not be able to fight back the tears any longer. “I’m fine, Ol.”

“Some rest then,” Jimin says. “Hoseok, if you take Olivia to the storage room, you might be able to find her something a bit more fitting to wear in the alder chest, the one with the iron straps. You know which I mean?”

Hoseok makes an agreeable sound. You snap out of your stupor enough to realize Ollie stands up without so much as a mutterance of protest. In fact, she almost seemed eager as she took Hoseok’s hand, and he pulled her to her feet. There is a look on her face that you’ve never seen there before…it almost looks like longing. But that can’t be because that’s absolutely absurd. However, there she goes, giving you a girlish wave and mumbling, “Later, Cap. Get some rest, ‘k?”, as she allows Hoseok to lead her from the room.

“Wait, Ol—”

But just like that, Ollie walks out without so much as a backward glance before you can get the protest out of your mouth, her focus now solely on the male at her side. She has that same silly, infatuated look on her face.

And now you’re alone—alone with two strange males who are looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing they’ve ever come across. Perhaps you are…but most likely, they’re trying to come up with the best way to pick your bones clean.

You can feel the heat drain from your face, receding from the tips of your fingers and toes, turning into a wash of icy chills down your spine. You’ve heard enough songs about this…you know what happens next, yet you can’t get your body to do what you want it to. All you can do is stare, your eyes moving between the two males, your fingers holding a death grip on Red’s cap.

“Hungry?” Jimin asks, his eyes flicking to Namjoon.

Something is wrong…something is very wrong.

The taller male tilts his head to the side, eyes sliding up and down your seated form. “Yeah, Jimin, I’m hungry.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let the sudden wave of fear curdling in your belly show. Maybe Red should have just let the sea take you…

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-12-31 ColorMePurplex2

#bts fantasy #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x jimin #minimoni #bts sirens #pirate!reader #siren!namjoon #siren!jimin #namjoon smut #jimin smut #namjoon imagines #jimin imagines #bangtanwhq

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authorautumnbanks · 2 months ago

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Accidentally Dating (15)

Summary: A series of accidental dates and meetings between Kagome and Satoru over the years.

Pairing: KagomexGojo

Series Master list

Read Chapter 19 of the Side Stories First!

"Suguru!" Kagome yells, waving a hand in the air as she runs over to him. He stops and watches her with tired eyes. She really does not care for how down Suguru looks. Not that she sees him all that often, but he used to have a little more light to him. A little more umph. "Did you just get done with a mission?"

He presses his lips together and then dips his head. "Yeah, I took care of the curse." He stuffs his hands in his pockets as though he isn't quite sure how to act without Satoru there as a buffer.

This is the first time she has seen Suguru without Satoru.

"So, are you all done, then?"

"Uh..."

"Come on!" Kagome grabs his arm and tugs him along. She sniffs. His cologne is similar to the brand Satoru wears, but cheaper? "Do you like games?" There should be some crane games around the block or maybe Suguru would prefer an arcade?

"Uh..." Suguru coughs. "Yes, I like games, but... uh... Satoru isn't around."

"Hm? Oh yeah, Satoru is still busy with his missions. He texted me not too long ago. InuYasha is with him." Kagome rolls her eyes. Those two are always at each other's throats, but whenever Satoru has a mission—which is all the time these days— and InuYasha is around, then InuYasha insists on going with him because Satoru is allegedly lonely without InuYasha's company.

"And you still want to hang out with me?"

"You're Satoru's best friend," she says, confused by what the problem is.

"Ah, but Satoru doesn't want us hanging out together alone."

He doesn't? Kagome frowns. This is the first she's ever heard of this. Okay, well, Satoru complains a lot about Suguru and other men, but he also complains to complain. Still, Suguru's words don't match what Satoru told her. He's worried about Suguru and with all these missions being thrown at him, Satoru hasn't been spending that much time with Suguru.

"I'll send him a message and let him know we're hanging out. And Satoru is just being silly. He thinks you like me." Kagome laughs. Satoru thinks everyone wants her when that is not true. "Besides, you look like you need a pick me up." Kagome drags Suguru along because he drags his feet when she's not tugging on his arm. Whatever is going on with Suguru needs to be resolved like asap.

When they get to the arcade, Kagome promptly drops her hold on Suguru's arm and sends a quick message to Satoru.

Satoru: ? What do you mean you and Suguru are at an arcade?

Kagome: You can't be serious.

Satoru: Which one? I'll be there after this mission.

Kagome: You're not even in Tokyo. No way we'll gonna stay here that long.

Satoru: I can teleport.

Kagome rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Why is he always like this?

Kagome: Last time you teleported, you crashed into Goshinboku. I'm just trying to cheer Suguru up. He looks really down.

Satoru: That was one time and fine. I guess. But if he starts acting strange, you get out of there. He's my friend, but you're my girl, alright?

His girl.

Kagome bites her lip. Her cheeks flush pink in remembrance of that Satoru. Adult Satoru. She wonders what she looks like in the future. Does she look the same? Taller? As long as she doesn't look more like Kikyo, then it doesn't matter.

Kagome: Let me know when you're done with that mission.

She tucks her phone into her pink and gold Sailor Moon purse. Papa got it for her when he and Mom came back from their trip to Italy. Kagome flashes Suguru a smile bright enough for both of them. He turns his head away and rubs the back of his neck.

"So, when will Satoru be here?"

"He's not," Kagome replies, leading them over to a crane game. These games are soooo addicting. "Well, he wanted to teleport to us, but last time he tried that, he hit one of the trees at the shrine. Besides, he's got InuYasha with him and he can't exactly leave him behind. InuYasha left alone to his own devices here, is a terrible idea." She huffs. Dang it! She wanted that fox plushie for Shippo. "Ugh! I can't get it."

"Here, let me try." Suguru stares at the machine with such attention that it's as if he is staring down a curse and not a crane machine. He moves the control with a precision that gives Kagome a small spark of jealousy, because why does he make it look so easy? It's not fair. "You know these are rigged, right? It's not you." He bends down and pulls the fox, a gray one, plushie from the machine and deposits it into her hands. "So, Satoru is making progress with teleporting, huh? He'll be teleporting around in no time. He's gotten even stronger now."

Kagome holds the plushie to her chest. Is that what this is about? Satoru getting stronger and Suguru becoming stagnant? Her shoulders droop for a moment. No, this will not do. Kagome reaches out and squeezes his arm. "We don't have to play games if you don't want. I could help you train instead."

He blinks. Once. Twice. Five more times.

"What? You're worried about Satoru getting stronger without you, right? I know how to train." She leans in forward and lowers her voice. "I mainly fight demons, but I can handle curses, too. We can go to the shrine. I'd rather not go to the school if I can help it."

"... You fight demons?" His brows are taunt, but there's a hint of curiosity on his face now. "I can't imagine you fighting anything. Satoru is so..."

"He's always been like that." Kagome leans back and drops her hand. "He didn't tell you how I saved him when we were younger. It was a curse user."

Suguru looks around the arcade and then back to her. "Is there anyone else at the shrine?"

What a weird question. Kagome shrugs. "Maybe. Sometimes Mama spends time at the clan house, but she was at the shrine when I left. Why?"

"No reason," he says slowly. "I... I need to talk to Satoru. Give me a moment." He pulls out his phone and walks away from her.

Why does he need to talk to Satoru? Is it really that big of a deal? OH! Suguru probably wants to train with both of them. She nods to herself. That makes more sense. Kagome clutches the plushie and waits for Suguru to get off the phone.

"Hey there, beautiful," a man says with a slur. He staggers over to her with his jacket unbuttoned and grease stains in the middle of his white shirt. He smells like burgers and beer. Kagome wrinkles her nose and takes a step to the side. "Don't fuckin ignore me!" He darts a hand out and then screams. Suguru twists his hand back until there's an audible crack.

"Fuck off," Suguru says, letting the man's hand go, and then shoves him back. "We're leaving."

Kagome glances at the man with his balding hair and how he cries while cradling his hand with his other. The man would have never hit her, or rather he would have hit the barrier she put up and eventually moved on. He's not the first creep she's dealt with and she doubts he'll be the last.

"Kagome," Suguru says sharply. "Let's go."

Oh right.

"You know, he would have moved on," she points out. "I put a barrier around myself. I wasn't in any danger."

"A barrier? Like what you put up that one time?" Suguru sucks his teeth and then blows out a breath. "Sorry, you had to see that."

"Oh, that's nothing. Quite tame, really. I mean, I've seen InuYasha with a hole in his stomach and guts out. Lots of guts out. It was such a mess." She holds the plushie with one hand and on to the purse strap with her other. "And Satoru would have done way worse. He can be a bit unhinged at times."

"A hole in his stomach? Does he have rct?"

"No," Kagome says slowly. "That's something sorcerers have, but InuYasha is a half-demon, so his healing is pretty good." She assesses him. "Do you have rct?"

"No," he replies sharply. "It's not something I can do."

"Ah, you mean it's not something you know how to do, but you could do it. Maybe you need another life or death situation to really trigger it?" She presses her lips together in contemplation. "I won't kill you, obviously, but maybe training will jump start something for you. Nothing like a couple of arrows to the gut to get you thinking of new ways to survive."

"Uh... maybe I'll just end up dead," he says with a laugh. "If the arrows don't do me in, then Satoru will surely kill me for laying a finger on you."

"He wouldn't kill you."

"It's Satoru."

"I'd tell him not to," Kagome stresses. "He listens to me for the most part." She frowns. Does he listen to her? Kind of. Maybe. Okay, so he doesn't listen to her all that much, but he won't kill Suguru if she begs him not to, and if he tries, then she'll just threaten him with his own subjugation beads. "Don't worry about it. We're just training and besides, even if you come at me with a special grade, it's no problem. They're not much compared to demons." She stops and then gives Suguru a sheepish grin. "Let's keep that between us. Satoru doesn't know I've taken care of some curses here and there."

"A secret between friends, then."

----

Kagome gives Suguru a thumbs up to proceed with training. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and for the sake of training, she's now wearing her priestess outfit instead of a skirt. "Ready when you are," she says when Suguru hesitates. Ookay, guess she's gonna have to start this off since Suguru seems reluctant. No worries, even if she hits Suguru with an arrow, it won't be enough to kill him.

"This feels wrong," Suguru admits. "Like I'm fighting a—shit!" He jumps back. The arrow lies on the ground, but there's smoke coming from the head. Suguru stiffens and stares at her with something she can't quite put her finger on. It doesn't look like fear. Maybe some wariness? Either way, if Suguru wants to catch back up to Satoru, then he needs to take this seriously.

"That was a warning shot. The next one will hit you," Kagome says, notching another arrow.

"W-wait!" He holds his hands out in front of him, takes a step towards her, and then winces when his foot touches the arrow. "I didn't think you were serious about this. I can't—"

Kagome shoots the arrow, hitting Suguru in the leg. She sighs and lowers the bow. Okay, now what? Suguru doesn't want to train... he doesn't want to train with her and the arcade was a dud. How the heck is she supposed to cheer this guy up?

"Don't pull that out," Kagome says, walking over to him. She squats and wraps her fingers around the arrow. "I'm going to pull it out, and I want you to at least try to heal it."

"You shot me!"

"Ready?"

He closes his mouth and nods his head. "You're just as insane as Satoru." His jaw ticks. The only reaction to Kagome pulling the arrow free. "Focus on healing. You make it seem like it's so easy to do," he mutters, holding his leg with both hands.

"I feel my energy in my gut. Concentrate on yours and push it towards your leg."

Suguru huffs. "So, you fight demons, huh? What's the difference between them and a curse?"

"A demon can be born in a number of ways. Like you and me, or you could have someone that offers their body up to several low-level demons, which would create a half-demon. InuYasha is a half-demon, but he has a demon father and a human mother. A curse is born from negative human emotions." Kagome eyes Suguru's leg. How the blood slows down. "Both are another form of the cycle, I guess. Curses prey on humans and sorcerers take out the curses. Demons prey on humans if they want or curses. They're similar to humans in the sense they have their own personalities, wants, and desires. A curse just wants to kill like a bear would in search of food."

Suguru lifts his head. "And what are you?"

"A priestess." Kagome gasps and snaps her fingers. She's been going about this all wrong. "You take in the curses, right? I was half-listening when Satoru was explaining. He tends to geek out on jujutsu and sometimes it's a little overwhelming."

"Uh... yeah. I swallow the curses in order to make them mine. Why?" He drops his hands and stretches his leg out. "That actually worked."

"Of course, it worked." Kagome sniffs. "Come on, I've got another idea. This one will work for sure." She holds out a hand and pulls him up. "Sorry, I didn't think about this before. It's not something I..." she trails off. What she wants to say is that blessing others and purifying them is not something she typically does in the modern world, but it's probably best to leave that can of worms alone. Suguru knows about the multiverse now, but telling him she travels to the past might be too much. She wrinkles her nose. Wait, does he know she can time travel? There was so much going on when that other Satoru dropped in.

"It's not something, you what?" Suguru prompts, following her into the house. He stands awkwardly in the kitchen while Kagome ruffles through the cabinets.

"Aha! Found it." She holds up a bag of suckers. "Okay, this will have to do for now until I can make you some kind of charm to help counteract all that negative energy you are taking in."

"Suckers are going to help me?"

"I'm going to bless them." She rolls her eyes. "Honestly, if you weren't Satoru's best friend." She places the bag on the counter. "Do you mind asking him to bring some more of these when he comes home while I bless this bag?"

"Okay," Suguru says slowly. "Is he on his way back?"

"Last I messaged him; he said he was almost done." Kagome places her hand on the bag and closes her eyes. She doesn't need to close her eyes to bless the bag, but it's easier to drown out everything around her so she can focus on the task at hand.

Crash!

Huh?

She opens her eyes and blinks at the mess on the floor. Dust. So much dust. And the cabinets are gone. Destroyed. There's no amount of glueing that will put them back together. Not to mention the wall. It has a hole in the middle, shaped like Satoru and InuYasha. Kagome pinches the bridge of her nose and counts to ten. Satoru stands and dusts his pants off while InuYasha lies on the floor passed out.

"Yo!" Satoru chuckles. "I was—"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELEPORT HERE!"

Satoru shrinks and then turns his attention to Suguru. "Oi! What are you still doing here? And that's my candy."

Suguru makes a show of looking at the ruined kitchen. At InuYasha, who is still passed out from the trip or maybe from the dust. He opens the bag and pulls out a sucker. "Kagome-chan blessed these for me," he says with a quirk of his lips. He unwraps the sucker and plops it in his mouth. His eyes widen and then dart over to her.

"That's just temporary," Kagome says. "I'm going to make you a proper charm to offset the cons of your curse technique." She turns to Satoru and plants her hands on her hips. "And you! Stop teleporting from far away before you end up hurting yourself."

Satoru pokes out his bottom lip. "Sorry. I wanted to see you." He steps over InuYasha and pulls her into a hug. "Promise to stick to short distances for now." He brushes his lips across her forehead. "Missed you."

She should be mad, but Kagome leans into Satoru. Her fingers clutch the back of his jacket. "Why do you feel harder?"

Suguru coughs loudly. Satoru squeezes Kagome tighter, but his body is shaking. Was it something she said? He does feel harder, like he's been hitting the weights.

"Did Suguru do anything? I can kick his ass."

"No, he didn't—"

"She shot me!"

"Heh. Well, you deserved it." Satoru pulls back but keeps an arm wrapped around her. "Shoot him again so I can laugh."

"You two are insane," Suguru mutters, reaching into the bag for another sucker. There's color to his cheeks now.

Huh, turns out, Suguru needed Satoru to cheer up. Kagome rests her head against Satoru. Everything is going to be fine now...well, at least until Mom and Dad come back and see the kitchen.

----

Suguru looks up at the sky. It's dark out now and Kagome's mom never came back to the house. A shame, since he wanted to see someone else yell at Satoru. He tightens his fingers around the bag of suckers and various other candies. Blessed candy. He laughs. The absurdity of this day is getting to him.

"Oi! Suguru, wait up."

Suguru turns and waits for Satoru. "Walking me down the steps?"

"Yeah, let's have a talk." Satoru takes his shades off and hangs them on his white shirt. "Something different about you."

Different?

Suguru stares at his feet as he takes one step. Two steps. If he counts all the steps and ignores Satoru, maybe Satoru will drop it.

"Oi!"

Or not.

"I figured out how to use rct." He peeks at Satoru from the corner of his eyes. "Kagome helped me. That's why she shot me with an arrow. How long have you known... that she could neutralize cursed energy?"

"The first day we met, she hit this curse user so hard, his cursed energy vanished. I found him later. Tracked him down, and it's not a permanent effect." Satoru shrugs. "But I wasn't asking about that. I meant you. How are you?"

Suguru nearly trips on the next step. Satoru's words are clumsy, but it sounds as though Satoru is concerned about him?

"I'm fine—"

"Bullshit."

Suguru plasters a smile on his face and stops on the 50th step. "Satoru, I am fine. Better now, really." He holds up the bag of goods and jostles it. "Why doesn't Kagome help Jujutsu? She can bless candy," he says with a laugh. The despair from eating that curse earlier today is gone, replaced with the warm feeling of basking in the sun. "She can disrupt curse energy, so surely she could take out a curse or two."

Satoru's upper lift curls up before smoothing over. It happens so quickly, Suguru doubts Satoru is aware of the reaction.

"It's not about helping Jujutsu. It's about keeping her away from the higher ups. They're a pain and shitty." Satoru crosses his arms and then exhales. "But more importantly, Kagome doesn't want it. She likes that." He motions to the bag. "She reaches more people blessing items for the shrine than if she were to go on a mission."

Suguru nods. "And yet she fights demons."

Satoru shrugs again. "Trust me, you don't want to fight one. Actually, you should fight InuYasha. If Kagome shooting you helped you, then surely fighting InuYasha would do more for you." He punches Suguru's arm. "There's always going to be someone or something stronger than us, so we gotta do what we can and keep pushing ourselves harder."

Stronger than them?

"I can't believe you, of all people, would admit something like that."

"Next mission, either I or InuYasha will come with," Satoru says, ignoring Suguru's last comment. "We're the strongest trio."

"Now we're a trio?" Suguru shakes his head. When they get to the last step, Suguru glances over his shoulder in the direction of Jujutsu high and then back at Satoru.

"InuYasha's party is on Saturday. You should—I want you there."

Satoru must have knocked something loose when he hit the side of the house.

"I have missions all week, Satoru. Like you. There's no guarantee I'll be able to."

"Let me handle that. I want you there." Satoru smiles and then jerks his thumb back at the stairs. "Oh, and Suguru, no more dates with my girl. Got it."

Date?

Suguru huffs. "I was taken as a hostage. It wasn't a date." He waves goodbye and heads back to the school and away from Satoru. It's only when he's alone in his room that his shoulders slump and the bag full of candy drops to the floor. He slides his hands down his face and muffles the sigh.

This is a problem.

***

A/N: If you're confused, please go back and read chapter 19 of the side stories.

"Does that mean Kagome is Benzaiten's priestess?" - I'm not sure if I will introduce any more gods...okay maybe Inari, but other than that there probably won't be any more gods introduced because then it would just be the gods fighting lol.

"Is there a celestial maiden Kagome that falls in love with Satoru?" - Can you imagine the ego on that Satoru? Bragging about how he has a celestial maiden as his girl?

"Have you seen Noein: To Your Other Self?" - I have not, but I bookmarked it so I won't forget.

"Is Naoya invited to that party?" - We just might get a spar between Naoya and InuYasha.

This chapter ended up being a bit longer than I thought. Still working on the next chapter of Brat Tamer. I thought I was going to get way more writing done this week, but I guess my body needed the rest more. Thanks for the honey garlic remedy, I'll have to pick up some garlic the next time I go the store. We've been getting hit hard this year with colds. My kid got a double ear infection this week.

Take care and have a wonderful week ahead! Get plenty of rest and stay hydrated! I'll be back to updating the Christmas Wish since Christmas is next month.

#crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #gojo satoru x kagome #kagome higurashi #gojo x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x jujutsu kaisen

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writing-fanics · 1 year ago

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☽｡⋆cream puffs and roses ☽｡⋆

Endymion/Mamoru Chiba x F!Reader

[summary: a sweet and forbidden romance sweet like cream puffs that ends in tragedy]

'Denizens of the Earth and Moon Kingdom are forbidden to fraternize. That is the god's law.'

"Princess Celeste!" Venus shouted, catching the princess as she snuck down to Earth. Celeste stopped in her tracks and stuck out her tongue. "Princess, I would expect this kind of behavior from Serenity, not you," said Mars. Celeste folded her arms across her chest. "Is it so wrong that I'm merely curious?" asked Celeste. The Sailor Guardians looked at her sternly.

"And it's such curiosity that will get you hurt or worse," said Jupiter, and the princess pursed her lips. "Did anyone see you?" asked Venus, and the princess pursed her lips. "No." She said, lying. "Now, back to your studies," said Mercury, causing the princess' eyes to widen. She slowly backed away, from the guardians and ran down the hallway.

"Celeste!" a voice called out, and she closed the book and placed it on her bed. Romeo and Juliet. She looked out her window and her breathing stopped, "W-What're you doing here?!" asked Celeste, looking down and seeing Endymion looking up at her from her balcony.

"I had to see you again. You dropped this," said Endymion as he reached into his pocket, revealing the bracelet she had dropped. Her cheeks turned red. "How can I trust you?" she asked, unsure.

"I promise I mean no harm," he said, and she gazed down at him. His eyes sparkled like the crystal blue oceans she had seen from above on Earth."

"I'll be right down," she said and quickly left her room. She peeked her head out, looked around to make sure the coast was clear and then made her way down the stairs and outside.

Endymion came out of the bushes and spoke apologetically, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The girl looked at him nervously as he slowly approached her. He held out a bracelet, and she cautiously reached out to take it from his hand.

"Thank you," she said with a soft smile. "I also brought you this," he said, presenting a beautiful red rose as an apology for having frightened her. Her cheeks turned beet red as she looked at him, and she smiled while taking the rose from him. "Thank you," she mumbled under her breath. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other as they sat down on the grass, talking to each other as if they were in a world of their own.

Months went by and a friendship blossomed between the two. The Sailor Senshi and Serenity watched as it unfolded from afar, "She looks so happy," said Serenity, noticing the smile on her cousin's face as she talked with Endymion. Celeste never talked much and was always quiet, whenever she didn't have any studies. She used to stay in her room reading whatever booked peeked her fancy. Until one day, her curiosity to see Earth became far too strong for her to push away. So she snuck down to there.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Mars. Serenity looked at the scout and crossed her arms. "Unfortunately, it is," she replied, smiling as Celeste laughed at something Endymion said. "Please don't mention this to my mother," Serenity added, gesturing towards Endymion and Celeste who seemed very happy together. "They look so happy," she remarked, glancing at Celeste once again.

"And sneaking out more often," Mars mumbled, causing Serenity to chuckle. "Yes, besides, I'm going to fix that silly law when I become queen," said Serenity, happy for her cousins' budding friendship and possible romance with Endymion.

Venus gazed at the young princess and replied, "It's not as easy as you think." Serenity looked back at her and responded, "I don't care. When I become queen, that law will no longer exist." Her determination was evident. Suddenly, Endymion and Celeste intertwined their fingers and gazed down at the Earth, causing Serenity to let out a sharp gasp.

"Love is in the air~" She cooed, giddly. The Sailor Senshi sighed and decided to give the two some space. Yet, the Sailor Senshi stood at a safe distance, their eyes fixated on Endymion and Celeste. They had been watching their friendship grow for months, and now, it had blossomed into something more beautiful and alluring.

"Yeah, I couldn't stop laughing when that happened." Celeste exclaimed, as she looked over at Endymion smiling, as they shared stories. Endymion smiled, as he listened to her stories and about her struggles of loneliness.

"I love Serenity I do and the Scouts but.." She brought her knees to her chest hugging them. "I still can't help but feel lonely." She said sadly, looking out at the Earth.

"So most of the time, I stay in my room reading whenever I have a break from studies." She said. He scooted closer to her, "Or sneaking down to Earth." He adds, and she chuckles softly. "Yeah, that too." She said, looking at him smiling. "There's going to be a morning market tomorrow," He said, looking at her and she looked at him. "Would you like to go?" He asked, and her eyes lit up and she nodded in response. "I'd love to. I'll use Serenity as a distraction." She joked, causing the two to smile at each other.

---⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆-----

Celeste's eyes looked curiously at the various food stands and shops, in the market. The smell of something sweet wafted through her nose, and her stomach growled in response. She started sniffing the air like a dog sniffing for food. Until her nose pointed in the direction of the stand, where the scent was coming from.

She rushed towards it. Endymion could only smile softly in response as he followed after her. Her eyes sparkled like stars seeing the delicious cream puffs, some filled with whipped cream and others custard or pastry cream. Endymion paid for the sweet confectionery.

Her eyes widened, and she placed her hand on the right side of her cheek and hummed in delight. “So good!” She mumbled as she savored the delicious treat.

Her cheeks flushed, “Sorry, I’m being impolite.” She said, embarrassed looking away from him. “No, I’m happy you’re having fun,” He said, and she looked at him and smiled. He noticed the little bit of chocolate on her cheek, he brought his hand to her cheek and with his thumb, wiped away the chocolate on her cheek.

She looked away sheepishly, as her heart pounded against her chest. "I should be heading back," She mumbled. He removed his hand from her cheek understanding but upset that their time together was already ending. "I'll escort you," He said, and she smiled. Her eyes landed on a stand selling necklaces, and couldn’t help but stop to look.

As she walked down the street, her eyes caught sight of a beautiful necklace with a gold chain and a jeweled rose at the bottom. Endymion walked up behind her and noticed her staring at the necklace in awe. Without any hesitation, he paid for the necklace before the young princess could even object. "H-Hey, you didn't need to buy that for me." She said as they walked towards the palace.

He looked at her and smiled, "Why not? You're my guest." He said, and her cheeks turned bright red, "Besides a beautiful necklace should be worn by a beautiful princess such as you." He said, and her cheeks turned beet red. Her heart skipped a beat as her breathing hitched, "I-I um.." She mumbled, under her breath.

Her heart raced as he held her hand, intertwining their fingers. She looked into his blue eyes, which sparkled like crystals in the sunlight. "Celeste" He whispered, her name rolling off his tongue so easily.

‘Dont fall in love’

‘Don’t fall in love’

‘Don-‘

As he leaned in, she could feel his warm breath on her lips. His lips were soft and gentle as they met hers, sending a shiver down her spine. She couldn't help but melt into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching up to caress his cheek. His hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. At that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the intensity of the moment.

‘Too late’

☽｡⋆

She paced her room still able to feel the warmth of his lips, and she couldn't stop touching them with her fingers. She missed the softness and sweetness of his kiss already. As she walked towards her window, she looked longingly at the Earth. "My Endymion," she sighed, placing her hand over her chest.

Celeste was lost in her thoughts when she heard a knock at her door. "It's me," Serenity said from outside the bedroom. Celeste opened the door and pulled her cousin into the room before closing the door behind them. "What happened?" asked Serenity, taking Celeste's hands. "You've been quiet," she continued, and Celeste looked away sheepishly.

"He kissed me," said Celeste. Serenity's eyes widened in shock. "And I kissed him back," Celeste added. Her cousin gasped in shock before smiling and squealing, "Oh, I'm so happy for you!" squealed Serenity, then Celeste placed her hand over her cousin's mouth.

"Celeste!" a voice called out. She walked towards her balcony and saw Endymion looking up at her. "Endymion!" she whisper-shouted, excitedly. "I'll be right down," she said, sending him a smile. Serenity looked at her cousin and smiled, "Go on!" said Serenity, patting her on the back. Celeste had a smile on her face as she gave her a thumbs-up and exclaimed, "Go get 'em!" Serenity shoved her outside of her bedroom door.

"I had to see you again," he confessed. Her smile grew as she ran down the stairs towards him, wrapping her arms around him. "Endymion," she whispered, looking up at him.

☽｡⋆

He gently placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. She smiled softly and said, "When I'm with you, it's like my heart becomes transparent! Energy wells up within me!" She paused for a moment and then looked up into his eyes. "I want to be with you like this forever," she whispered, feeling her heart swelling with emotion as she leaned her head into his chest and felt his strong arms around her. He looked down at her and smiled.

With a gentle sigh, she whispered his name under her breath - "My Endymion." He leaned down towards her and their lips met in a soft and tender kiss, their bodies drawn closer together. As the kiss deepened, he placed his hand on the back of her head, gently pulling her closer to him. With every passing second, the intensity of their embrace grew, their passion burning brighter and brighter until they were both lost in the moment, lost in each other.

๋࣭ ⭑"My Starlight." ๋࣭ ⭑

----------⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆-----------

A dark cloud seemed to loom over the Earth Kingdom, a rebellion seemed to be brewing. Endymion and Celeste, were seeing less and less of each other. She knew for them to be seen together especially now, would mean war and could even make the situation even worse.

She looked down at the countless letters that they've been exchanging during this time, "Oh, Endymion." She whispered. Missing her lover dearly. She heard rustling from outside, and walked towards her balcony. "Serenity, knows not th-" The figure revealed himself, and her eyes widened with joy.

"Endymion!" She whisper shouted, and quickly ran out of her room towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his arms snaked their way around her waist.

"Endymion," She whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him, "I don't mean to sound dark but." She mumbled under her breath, she intertwined her fingers with his. "If anything happens, I hope we find each other in our next life." She said, looking at him biting her lip nervously.

Endymion placed, his hand on her cheek. caressing it with his thumb. "Of course, everything is going to be alright." He said, leaning down to press a kiss onto her lips. "I promise," He said, placing his forehead against hers. "I'll protect you no matter what." He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she placed her hand over his.

"I'll protect you, my Starlight." He whispered. She wrapped her arms around him as if her life depended on it. Tears brimming her eyes and she nuzzled her head into his chest. He pulled back and cupped her cheeks, "Someone like you shouldn't have such tears," He said, gently wiping them away. She placed her hand over his leaning into his touch.

----------⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆-----------

"We will take the Kingdom of the Moon and make it ours!"

"The Legendary Silver Crystal will be mine!"

"Prince, will you be a traitor to Earth?"

"This is all for Earth's prosperity!"

"Stop! Lay down your arms! Stop this futile war!" shouted Endymion, standing in front of his beloved Starlight protectively. Celeste stood behind him scared for her life. Beryl's eyes landed on her eyes filled with hatred and jealousy, "So, this is the wench you betrayed your kingdom for!" shouted Beryl; raising the sword above her head and running towards the princess.

"I'll end you!" shouted Beryl, running towards the princess sword raised; above her head. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her protectively. Followed by a pained scream and blood staining her hands. Her eyes widened in horror seeing her lover protect her from the sword; getting himself impaled in the process.

Celeste let out a blood-curdling scream, "Endymion!" as she watched him fall to the ground his body lying in front of her feet. Falling to her knees in shock, as she brought her hand to her mouth.

She couldn't breathe. Her entire world seemed to crumble around her, "Endymion!" her anguish cries echoed throughout the kingdom Her eyes drifted towards the sword lying on the ground. With eyes devoid of emotion she reached; towards the sword lying on the ground. She couldn't make a wish or pray everything was gone, nothing could fix this nothing could bring him back. Once again she was alone. Alone.

"Princess?" whispered the sailor scouts. Celeste, tears in her eyes and immeasurable grief in her heart gripped the sword with both hands and plunged it between her breasts. Her body fell to the ground lifeless beside Endymion, her beloved. Her hand clasps over his in her final moments. The Sailor Scouts let out a horrified scream, "Princess!" watching as the princess took her own life. Her body lying next to that of her beloved, like Romeo and Juliet.

----------⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆-----------

"I cant seem to stop eating theses for breakfast and lunch." She exclaimed, as she walked down the sidewalk. Just as she was about to take her first bite of her third cream puff. Someone bumped into her, causing her to drop the cream puff on the ground.

"Wahh! My cream puff!" She exclaimed, looking down at her ruined lunch. "Hey!" She exclaimed, her cheeks puffed as she looked up at the guy.

She looked at the guy in front of her his hair was black, and he wore shades and a tuxedo? He almost looked familiar. "You made me drop my lunch." She pouted, looking at him. He looked at her through the shades.

He couldn't help but tease her. "You keep eating like that, and you'll turn into a cream puff," he said with a grin. She looked at him, furrowed her eyebrows, and pursed her lips.

"Excuse me?!" She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. "Hmph, mind your business!" She growled, as she picked up what was once her breakfast and stormed off.

"Pretentious jerk!" She mumbled under her breath, as she turned back to look at him before continuing on her way. Looking down at her watch, causing her to shout and pick up the pace. "Oh, I'm late!" She shouted, and he watched as she ran off in the opposite direction. Running towards, her extracurricular activities. .

a/n: I hoped you enjoyed this! Should I make a part II? Mamoru definetly owes her some fresh cream puffs don't ya think?

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welcome-to-grayspace · 1 year ago

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More Sunny headcanons (that are like half just projection) because I've been thinking about him

- Sometimes he'll be dead quiet for like an hour and then say the most out of pocket shit you've ever heard out of nowhere and then go back to acting like he never said anything

- His favorite color is purple.

- Sometimes he tries to talk and his voice just kinda gives out on him because he hasn't talked in too long and it's not adjusted yet (this happens to me at work regularly. Help). Little voice cracks and accidentally whispering are common occurrences for him.

- He actually really likes cute/bright jfashion aesthetics (fairy kei, decora, sweet lolita, etc.) But mostly just wears simple all black outfits on a day to day basis because it's easier/more comfortable on difficult days for him. (This is partly projection but it's also based on the way a lot of characters in headspace dress. You can't tell me he thought up all those sweetheart outfits without at least hearing about sweet lolita. It even fits the pun naming convention in headspace oh my god I just realized)

- He and Kel used to secretly steal Mari's clothes and makeup when she wasn't around and play dress up. This is entirely based on the item description for high heels in the hikikomori route

- He likes horror and acts unphased while watching/playing/reading it but then when he's alone he checks over his shoulder every 5 minutes and stays up all night like a lil bitch (this is entirely projection I have no basis for this)

- His sneezes sound funny. Idk

- Sometimes he involuntarily spaces out in the middle of talking or doing things (this is barely a headcanon I think this just happens. It's projection too though he just like me fr)

- He enjoyed English/Language Arts when he was in school.

- He has a nice singing voice, but very few people have heard it because he gets nervous about singing in front of people.

- Sunny has a relatively normal voice for a teenage boy (maybe quieter, but that's about it), but Omori sounds like a vocaloid. Maybe Oliver or Len. During the omori fight his voice gets gradually more filtered and distorted.

- He totally watched Sailor Moon with Basil and Aubrey at some point. Kel thought it sounded like a "dumb girl show" at first but then he walked in on an action scene and became a fan too. His favorite character is Pluto. Kel's is Jupiter. Aubrey's is Mars and Basil's is Mercury. Hero doesn't really get it but he's supportive.

I can't think of any more off the top of my head rn but I will keep yall updated lol

#omori #omori game #omori sunny #sunny omori #omori headcanons #sunny headcanons #kel omori #omori kel #omori spoilers

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drowsy-quill · 7 months ago

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Realized I had a whole folder of short stories/writing exercises from a creative writing class last spring so I think I'll start sharing them on here! This one (iirc) was a 20-minute free write that I did as part of my daily practice that I cleaned up for a ConCrit session in class.

The girl thinks she died the moment the tide first laved over her ankles, that she died clad in hot dog print boxers and her father's worn-out hoodie. She thinks she died under the full moon, stars wheeling silently above her. Her pockets were not weighed down by stones, but the girl sank nonetheless as she waded out into the water. She understood then the Greeks and their myths of sirens, of sailors going mad for the call of the sea. The gentle crash of the waves like a soft lullaby calling to her, come it said you will find rest here. The water embraced her wholly–unlike anything she’d known–wholly and entirely.

As the waves crash over the crown of her head, she finds herself swept away by memories. She remembers learning to swim with her brother, two toddlers clad in matching garish orange rash guards in the small community pool. She remembers racing him when they were ten, bet I can beat you to the other side. She remembers long June afternoons spent growing pink under the sun cackling as the waves crashed over his head and he came up spluttering each time. She remembers the way the waves cradled the two of them side by side day in and day out, she remembers how at peace she was. She remembers–

She remembers drowning. The lack of panic and utter silence as the inky depths swallowed her. She remembers gazing back up at the moon as she sunk into the sand. She remembers a voice, warm and ethereal, different from the whispering of the tides. My child of the sun, why are you here? She remembers the fatigue, the atlas burden of each day, she remembers—

She is thirteen, listening to what she thought were her best friend's last words. She is six and watching her cat close its eyes in the vet’s office. She is sixteen and watching her first love laugh at her tear-stained cheeks. She is eight and saying yes to a question no one should have asked her. She is ten and wondering if in death she would be finally loved. She doesn’t remember being a child–young, yes–but never a child. That joy was for luckier girls than she. Memory after memory flows from the girl's lips like a deluge, like a landslide, like a tsunami, into the open embrace of the moonlit expanse.

My little ghost, would you not return home? To the sun? To the shore? She is no longer cradled by the sand, now she floats under the surface, suspended with her toes occasionally brushing the sand. I could lift your burden, child of the sun, and you could join me in my waters–in my stars. You could join your sisters underneath the tides or, perhaps, in the cosmic array. The girl stopped to imagine–a life eternal in a joyful waltz with the seasons and the sunrises, one of many lost souls now found under the moon’s light. She read a fairy tale once, with her brother, in a cloth-bound book their father owned, of a girl who refused to marry her brute of a betrothed and instead tried to drown herself. The moon, seeing her sorrow and taking mercy on her, changed her into a star and hung her bright in the sky with all the others who were rescued from their own grim fates. She always liked that idea, of becoming a speck of starlight, eternal.

Or, my little one, you may return home. To the beach and the bay, and the breeze. The girl remembered then her brother, his aggravating 9 inches of height over her and 9 minutes of life before her, she remembered the soft down of her pillows and the whorls of color on the quilt her grandmother made for her, she remembered crooning along to songs on her car’s staticky radio with the windows rolled all the way down her brother laughing in the seat beside her, and the smell of toast in the morning, and the sound of the sea birds outside her window, of long rainy days spent watching reruns mindlessly with feet tucked under her brother’s thighs, the way the wind chimes on the porch sound in a storm, the way her brother would throw popcorn at her when she would solve the mystery before the tv detectives did. Joy after joy after joy, no matter how simple, fell from her lips unbidden.

She heard the smile in the voice’s words as it spoke again, I see you’ve made your choice, my little ghost, the sun awaits you. Her second first breath was sweet, tinged with relief and joy and the chill of pre-dawn air, she could taste seaweed and salt in each lungful, stinging her nose and throat on its way down. The girl rose from the tide with the sunrise, sand and salt encrusted hair plastered to her neck and face, hot dog boxers sticking uncomfortably to her thighs, and hoodie weighed down by the weight of the ocean. She looks like shit. She had never felt lighter. She climbs the steps back up to her house and sits dripping in front of the television to watch Saturday morning cartoons, a cold strawberry pop tart in hand. Her brother comes down a little while later, when the sun no longer embraces the horizon, and sprawls out next to her. He doesn't ask why she looked like a soggy mop, he just kisses her forehead and laughs at the puddle she left on the linoleum floor, stealing her second pop tart with a joke about his sister being replaced with a fish. She laughs with him, damp hair creating a puddle on the shoulder of his sleep shirt where she rests her head as they sit shoulder to shoulder in a patch of sun. Welcome home, the golden-warm light seems to whisper through the windows, welcome home.

#my writing #short story #free write #this one was one of my favs from that semester #and part of the editing process was very much de-personalizing this one bc its first draft was a little too close to actual happenings #and I wasn't gonna roll up to like our 3rd ever concrit session with that

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assortedseaglass · 2 years ago

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Recollections - A Seamstress and the Sailor Story

Request: I was thinking very generally and vaguely about either Billy and Ida or Bess and Tom, something about how the romance started? As in... How the soft feelings and affection built up during their teenage years, the pining, the mutual comfort from one another, just spending time together every day being friendly? Just... I want the sweet teenage romance fluff ya know? The deep friendship, the love that they have for one another when we meet them and how it started. @annoying-leftist-donkey

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

Warnings: Language, one teeny smutty thought, very minor spoilers for The Seamstress and The Sailor if you haven’t read that.

Word Count: 3.9K

Southport, 1925

“We blame it on a tough week at work, or too much going on at home, but children know. They’re more connected to the earth than we are,”

Tom turned in his seat when he heard his father mention children. Next to Douglas, Marie Bennett was repacking the picnic basket.

“They can sense changes in the weather and all that,” Douglas waved to the sky beyond the bus’ dirty windows. “S’why they’re agitated today. Spring tides. The moon,”

“Alright, Papus,” Tom’s mother smiled at her husband and, with delicate touch, biffed Tom’s nose with a napkin. “Nosy,” He stuck his tongue out and turned back to face the front. Albie Vaughn, with his scabbed and spindly legs, sat next to him, busying his hands with the hair of the two girls in front of them. Lois Bennett and Cora Vaughn were ten and too old to engage with their younger siblings. That is, until they got to the beach at least. When Albie finished tying the girls’ pigtails to each other, he nudged Tom in the ribs and they laughed. From a seat across the aisle, a pair of dark eyes watched the boys.

“Bess Vaughn, what have I told you?” Etta swatted at her daughter’s legs from the seat behind her and the little girl swung her legs down, eyes still focussed on her brother and his friend.

“What?” Albie said.

“Nothing,” Bess’ voice was quiet, and Tom stared at her. There was something about Bess Vaughn that gave him the creeps. Before he could ruminate on why, the bus juddered to a stop and Fergal Vaughn jumped from his seat.

“Take the baskets down for you mothers, lads,” Fergal said, hoisting little Dot into his arms. Lois and Cora whinged as Douglas struggled to untie their hair, and Bess followed her mother and Marie towards the beach. She’d overheard Douglas, telling Marie all about the weather, and how people became agitated when it changed. He was right, too, about the spring tide. The faintest slash of silver was visible on the horizon, a barely there strip of receding sea at the edge of miles of sand. The boys instantly dumped the picnic baskets by the sand dunes and sprinted after Cora and Lois, their shrieks rising into the grey April sky. Fergal unfolded a chair and perched upon it, Dot babbling away on his knee. Beside him, Marie, Etta and Douglas lay a blanket, and when the women were seated upon the sand, Douglas made his slow way towards the water, shoes off, trousers rolled up, hands in pockets. Bess watched the boys chase her older sister and Lois, and Douglas strolling towards the horizon. She decided to follow him.

After an hour of chasing the others, Tom ran to the edge of the dunes. Cora was it, and too slow to catch either him or Albie, making do to run after Lois. He plucked an apple from the picnic blanket and blew a raspberry at Dot, making her giggle.

“Where’s dad?” Marie answered with a point at the sea. There, silhouetted against the glistening water, were two figures. One tall, stooping every now and again to point at something, the other small, collecting whatever the other passed to them. Apple in hand, Tom sprinted along the flat sand, dodged Cora’s attempt to tag him, and towards his father. Bess saw him coming before Douglas, and stood still to watch him. Her stare caught Tom off guard and he faltered, his run becoming an awkward walk. They watched each other a moment.

“What are you doing, dad?”

Douglas smiled at him then at Bess. He nodded his head at her, some sort of encouragement to speak. When she didn’t, he answered. “I’m teaching Bess about the shells and the creatures that live in them.”

Bess held out her hand to show Tom the shell in her palm. “Dog whelk,” was all she said.

“Right,” God, she’s weird. “Well, um, do you want to come and play it with the rest of us? It’s getting a bit boring with Lois and Cora, they’re rubbish.” And he’s my dad, not yours.

“No,” Bess went back to staring at the collection of shells Douglas had given her.

“Go on,”

“Leave her alone, Tom,” Douglas’ voice was soft, his eyes back to scouring the sand for treasures.

“But she never plays, I’m just trying to be nice!” He stepped forward.

“And you can’t force people to play with you,” Douglas turned a rock over in his hand. Tom huffed and grabbed Bess’ arm.

“Come on,” he dragged her towards their siblings.

“Tom-” Douglas had no time to admonish his son before Bess did it for him, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his arm. “Bess!” Tom howled, tears pricking his eyes as he lunged at the little girl. Douglas pulled his son away just in time, his hand wrapped around his son’s scrawny arm. With he other, he took Bess by the hand and marched them back up the beach. “You two can sit with your mams for the rest of the day.” Both children made to protest but he cut them off. “And if I see anymore of that behaviour, from either of you, you’ll be on the first bus home.” Behind his back, Tom and Bess scowled at each other.

St Thomas’ Secondary, 1929

The bell rang, and Bess’ heart sank. She’d spent the last hour hiding behind the bicycle rack, leant against the wooden fence that separated the secondary school from the primary. She peered through the wooden slats, and saw Dot running to class, hand in hand with her friends. Bess sighed and stood up; if she timed it just right she could wait for the others to go inside and still be on time for history. At least being V in the alphabet meant she was sat at the back of the class, and the others would forget she was there. They never usually bothered her when Cora was around, just gave her funny looks. But Cora was at home in bed with a head cold, sadly refusing Bess’ pleas to “just get up and try.”

She watched as the other children filtered through the wooden double doors, Mrs Keith ringing the bell in her hand that called them to lessons. Queenie Warren’s golden curls bounced in the afternoon sunlight, and a pang of jealousy prodded Bess’ insides. The last to go were Frank Smith and Walter Watson. Bess saw their eyes dart around the playground before disappearing behind Mrs Keith. With everyone inside, this was her chance. She ran across the playground as quickly as her little legs would take her, ready to join the queue filing into classroom six. The skirt of Queenie’s dress was just fluttering through the classroom doorway when Bess tripped, her face hitting the book she was carrying as she landed on the ground.

“Where’ve you been then?” The boy’s voice wasn’t kind, or curious. It was tight, teasing, smug.

“She’s a witch, Frank. Remember? She can make herself disappear.” Walter stood over her, one leg either side of her torso, preventing her from standing.

“Wish she would. Her and her whole Paddy family.”

“Please,” Bess’ voice quavered as she spoke, trying to push down the skirt that had ridden up in her fall.

“Been saving this for you.” Walter said, producing from his satchel a carton of milk from the canteen. “You Micks always reek of dirt and incense, what’s another bad smell?” And he poured the sour liquid over Bess’ copper hair.

She whimpered, mouth tight to avoid the rotten milk as she struggled to wipe it from her eyes. There was a dull thud as something hit the floor beside her, and whatever it was groaned. Looking tentatively sideways, Bess saw Walter Watson on his side, looking up in nervous apprehension. She followed his gaze. Frank was cowering against the wall and next to him was Tom Bennett. He said nothing, only stared down at the boy on the floor.

Bess rarely saw Tom these days, aside from the back of his head in class. He’d taken to skipping lessons, only appearing for sports or undoubtedly the few days after his dad had caught him skiving. Tom had hardened since Marie’s death, the plucky friend of her brother making way for the rebel stood above her. At just twelve, his face was already sharp, his shoulders beginning to fill out as teenagedom approached, and his piercing eyes already bore signs of that most adult emotion; weariness. His grief had not been gentle. Tom was always popular at school, but now he was intimidating.

The four children stared between each other, Tom’s eyes not once leaving Walter’s. When Frank stood forward to offer an explanation, Tom slammed him into the wall with surprising force.

“It’s ok,” Bess wobbled to her feet and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “I’m ok.” Tom watched her a minute, before releasing Frank and glaring down at Walter.

“You so much as look at her, at any of us, I’ll put you in the Infirmary.”

Walter nodded and scrambled from the floor, Frank in his wake. They ducked into classroom six, and Bess and Tom were alone. She watched the floor, embarrassed of her milk-sodden hair and her rescue by Tom.

“I’d better, you know-” she gestured to her face.

“I’ll tell miss where you are,”

“And don’t tell the others, please.” Tom nodded and watched Bess hurry to the girls’ bathroom. He didn’t see her again until 3 o’clock, when she was leant against the school gates. Somehow, she didn’t seem as nervous as normal and Tom smiled, knowing that he might have something to do with it. Her hair was wrapped in the Miss Abbott’s, the librarian’s, scarf, and she gave a small wave to him as he approached.

“How’s your hair?” he asked, noting only the faintest whiff of dairy about her.

“Washed it in the sink, Miss Abbott said I can keep the scarf.” She beamed, though Tom knew the scarf was less of a gift, more a case of not wanted the ruined garment back. He nodded and began his walk home.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Albie?” Bess called, not moving from her sentinel at the gate.

“His got lines with Mr Hughes,” Tom called over his shoulder. Bess tutted and hurried to meet his steps, standing a step away from him than perhaps was natural. They walked together a while, Bess silent and Tom chatting to friends as they departed for their homes. It wasn’t until they rounded into their street that she found her voice.

“Thank you, for earlier.”

“S’fine.” Tom kicked a stone before laughing. “Why didn’t you bite him?”

“Pardon?” Bess stopped outside her front door.

“Walter. Why didn’t you bite him?”

“I-well-”

“You bit me when you got angry,” he smirked.

“I was eight!”

“Would have come in handy back there,”

“I don’t want to bite Walter Watson, I’ll catch something,” she gravely, wrinkling her nose. With a loud laugh, Tom waved and strolled across the street to his own home.

“See you tomorrow, Bess.”

“Yeah, bye.”

St Thomas’ Cemetery, 1933

“-thinks the sun shines out her arse, and I know you’d hate me saying that but it’s true. She can’t do any bloody wrong in his eyes.”

Tom picked up a branch of fallen yew and thwacked the foxglove looming from the ground of the next grave. He’d been coming down to visit his mother a lot recently. Bess told him about it, how when she was sad or angry, she’d come down and talk to Etta. Sometimes she and her sisters brought picnics and blankets, sat by her grave and spent an hour chatting together. He glanced across the graveyard to where Etta lay. The Vaughn’s last offerings of brandy and flowers were gathering crisp leaves. Looking at the small posey of flowers he’d stolen from other people’s gardens, he swiped the branch of yew through the long grass. Compared to the effort the Vaughn’s gave to Etta, his offering was pitiful.

“FUCK!” Again and again he thrashed the foliage, sending pollen and leaves into the evening air. When there was nothing but tombstones left to hit, Tom launched the branch across the cemetery. “FUCK!” The word tore from his throat, causing it to crack. He flung himself on the ground at the foot of his mother’s grave and wept.

Sometimes, he thought his mum and Albie were the only people that understood him, but with Albie still deep in the grief of losing Etta, Tom found he had no one to turn to. The five years anniversary of Marie’s death hit Douglas hard, and his relationship with his son had been fraught ever since. Tom thought it was his father’s timidity, Lois’ seeming perfection, Tom’s inability to commit to any one thing that caused the friction. What he didn’t realise was that each time Douglas looked at his son, he saw his wife. The same passion, same loyalty, same quick temper. Tom cried and cried, brushing angrily at his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away the traitorous tears. If she’d have been here, his mum would have made a joke about Douglas’ humour bypass and rubbed Tom’s back until he was calm. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. The grass rustled at his side and he looked up.

Bess was wading through the overgrown cemetery towards Etta, a long piece of string stretching between she and him. Attached to the string, glinting in the sunlight, she’d dropped a tin can by his knee. When Tom looked back to Bess, she was already sat at Etta’s grave, holding up her own tin can and smiling. He sniffled and held it to his ear. She said nothing, only smiled.

He watched her while she spoke to Etta and tidied her grave, replacing the flowers and dusting off the brandy bottle. She gave the gravestone a gentle kiss and walked back to Tom. He patted goodbye to his mother and met her in the centre of the cemetery, under the ancient yew. As was always her way, she stared at him before speaking, her way of assessing which step to take in conversation. Bess took in his red eyes and furrowed brow, the fidgeting that always happened when he was angry, like he was fizzing with energy.

“Was it a bad one?”

“Not really,” Tom sniffed and she watched as his lips twitched into a pout. She licked her own. “Just dad being dad, you know. Wishes I was the one gone, not mam-”

“Shut up. You know that’s not true.” Bess’ voice was harsh, a new development in her growing confidence, but one that Tom admired. He watched as she wound the string around the tin cans.

“Thanks for that,” he pointed to them.

“S’ok, wanted you to know you’re not alone. We’ve forgotten, me and the others, just because your grief has been longer, it doesn’t make it easier than ours.” Tom never knew what to say when Bess came out with her moments of profundity. She didn’t say much but when she did, God, she knew what you needed to hear. Bess Vaughn had a knack for rendering him speechless. “I got this done for you, too.” From her dress pocket she pulled a key. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.”

Tom snorted. “What will he say if he catches me having a late-night tryst with his most reliable daughter?”

“We do not have ‘trysts’,” Bess began walking from the graveyard and Tom followed. “’Reliable’? God, how boring. Is that all I am?”

“Dependable, then? How about that?”

“I sound like a piece of furniture,”

“You’ve got the legs for it-” Tom broke off with a laugh as Bess hit his arm. “Violence in the churchyard! Don’t let Father Michael see.”

“Says the one swearing and beating up the plants,”

Longsight Labour Club, 1939

“I heard that Bess is coming back today? She could give me a break on the keys,” Connie shuffled her sheet music and watched as Cora and Dot strung bunting from the light fixtures. Owing to her nights singing at the Labour Club, Lois had secured the small hall for her birthday. A table of cream tea was at its centre, the trestle tables ready to be whipped away for an evening of dancing.

“That she is,” Cora said from atop the ladder as Dot fed her bunting. “Perfect timing for you, Lois.”

“Not just for me,” Lois stood at the bar watching her friends’ handiwork. Little did they know that the comment was not directed at them, but her brother. She winked at him and Tom raised his eyebrows. He and Albie were cleaning glasses behind the bar, laughing occasionally at their sisters as they struggled to reach the rafters.

“She’s had a good time then? At the atelier?” Connie asked them.

“God, yeah,” Dot said, lightly slapped by Cora for her language. “She’s got all these fancy clothes and rich clients. And she gives me her copies of Vogue when she’s done with them.”

Connie looked impressed. “Might have to get her to send me some too.”

“She even makes their patterns now. Promised to sew me a new summer suit.”

“If you pay for the fabric,” Cora cut in.

“Better start saving then, my girl.” Fergal had arrived with some of the older residents of the street. Over the next twenty minutes, people of all walks of life trickled into the hall. Mrs Flaherty and Mrs O’Connell, Mrs Mason and her brood of offspring. Queenie Warren who immediately ran to Albie and Tom. Even Harry Chase and some of his private school chums. Tom and Albie looked at each other pointedly as the group of young men approached the bar.

“If it’s brandy and cigars you’re after, lads, the Con Club’s your best bet. You’d be more welcome there too.” Tom muttered the last sentence under his breath and Albie laughed.

“Tom,” Harry held out a placating hand which Tom shook a little too roughly. From behind them, one of Harry’s friends whistled lowly.

“I might consider voting the other way if the reds attract that kind of woman.” The gaggle of men, Tom included, looked to the door. His mouth ran dry. The light pouring into the hall illuminated perfectly elegant cut of her dress and the sway of her hips. He could see, through the white fabric, the faintest outline of her legs and he swallowed with difficulty.

Each man jolted when a shrill cry rang out through the air. Dot was careening towards her older sister, Cora close behind. Having greeted her siblings, Bess made her way towards Lois, and Tom was absolutely cunt-struck. When she left for her apprenticeship at the atelier, Bess still hid herself from strangers. She kept her eyes averted from others. Now, she moved with graceful purpose and her eyes, though still dark, shone with self-assuredness. She knew the effect she had on the room, and Tom felt his cock twitch at the power she held.

“That’s my sister you’re staring at.”

Tom turned his head slowly towards Albie, his eyes slightly unfocussed. When his friend frowned, Tom smirked.

“Wouldn’t you love me as a brother? Anyway, she could do worse,”

“She could do a lot better and all,” Albie gave him a warning look and turned back to the bar. When Tom looked back across the crowd, momentary terror washed over him. Bess, in all her white-clad and gorgeous glory, was heading towards him. Suddenly he felt underdressed in his shirt and threadbare jacket.

“Hi,” What sort of wet fucking hello was that?

“A glass of white please, barkeep.” Bess smiled at him as she leant against the wooden bar. Behind her, Harry’s friends were agog that she was speaking to him. Confidence bloomed in his chest and Tom stood a little straighter.

“Anything else the lady wishes?” Tom reached overhead for a wine glass, not missing the way Bess’ eyes watched the muscles of his arm.

“You working the bar all night?”

“Depends if my sister lets me off. Perhaps the birthday mood might strike her right.” He poured the wine, still feeling Bess’ eyes on him. If she had become a woman during her time in central Manchester, Tom had become a man. His shoulders were tight in the jacket he wore, its collar open just enough for Bess to see the muscles of his strong neck. She traced it upwards with her eyes. The underside of his jaw was sharp, his pink lips casting a small shadow on his sharp chin. His brow furrowed as he poured her drink, and Bess wanted nothing more than to lean across the bar and kiss the small wrinkle that had formed there.

“I hope so,” she sipped her wine and licked her lips. “We have so much to catch up on.” With a smile and nod to the other young men, Bess strolled towards the table of cream tea, perched next to her siblings and engaged in conversation with the older women, each eager to know about her time at the fashion house. When she looked up to see Tom watching still her, her dark eyes flashed with mischief, and she winked. In his pocket, Tom’s hand thumbed the key to the Vaughn’s house.

“Fuck me,”

Notes: I said I’d wait until Borne & Bound was out there, but my head ran away with me. I’m splitting the request into two so there will be a Billy and Ida follow up.

Each little scene was referenced somewhere in the plot of TSATS, and I enjoyed fleshing them out to show why they were so meaningful to Tom and Bess! Papus, mentioned by Tom’s mum, was a famous mystic. Royal Infirmary was a hospital and asylum in Manchester.

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