#so sorry ive been gone for so long. The Horrors and all. you get it

[appeypie]

a DTIYS for 01_ReihanehDraw on Twitter!! :3 super incredibly late, but I wanted to finish it anyway….

[manicrouge]

Inundate

[𝙰𝚄: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 05/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Sorry is the siren whose selfishness results in carnage.

[𝙲𝚠]: gore, murder, blood, body horror, angst, character deaths (both major and minor), hurt/comfort, smut, possessive!simon, inexperienced!reader, creampie, hurt and NO COMFORT, mention of the loss of a parent.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 18,536

[��/𝙽]: Since so many people liked the first part (ty for ur support btw i am blown away by all the love ive been getting... it's enough to make a grown woman cry) HERE'S PART TWO!!! I hope it's just as entertaining as the first part and a good continuation to the story, although if you dislike it, just pretend this part never happened. Also this took so long because between writing this I have been watching the cat in the hat (best movie of all time btw).

I had a lot of fun writing this and can't wait for more alt aus !! I think the next think i have planned has something to do with everyones favourite ghost so... keep an eye out for that :3

(Pls ignore any typos I am very tired and really wanted to get this done so if I have made any I do apologise)

Comments are always appreciated !!

If you haven't already read it, I advise you read 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 !!

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

There is something in the water.

There's something looking at him. He can sense it, he can feel it, and the feeling of whatever it is makes his blood run cold. Words have been leaving his mouth as he stands upon the ship, his eyes blood red at the very belief that something is there.

Leaning over, he watches as the ship caves into the waves, the village in the distance growing further and further away, the sound of songs and cheers emitting from the belly of the vessel.

Perhaps he's just a little sea sick, that's his excuse for the creeping sense of dread which is climbing up his spine the further he looks into the water, searching for the same set of black eyes that had stared at him that night while he obeyed the Captains orders.

Nausea rumbles his stomach, he feels the urge to grip the side of the ship and expel his guts for he cannot escape the image of that siren. It's as though, even though she is dead and gone (somewhere no one knows), she is still there with him, under his nails, infecting him with a sickly guilt that has caused his pores to ooze, the skin on his lips to crack, and his sleepless eyes to remain bloodshot.

He is rotting from the inside out.

Despite months having gone by, his hands are still slicked with the blood of the bleeding siren. He's scrubbed and scrubbed, and still, the dark red tinge under his nails persists. His hair is wild, flecks of grey sparkling in the daylight as he brings his hands together in an attempt to quell them as they continue to shake.

They're not alone anymore.

They haven't been for a while, yet, they have been none the wiser to it until the discovery of that... thing.

Granted, he's unsure as to whether or not he is grateful for knowing what is in the depths of the sea, or if he would have preferred it to stay a secret.

There is something following the ship, he knows there is something following the ship, whether beside it or under it- it doesn't matter.

He's heard the stories, read too many books in the library to count, and even since the murder of the siren, there has been a different air in the village just as there is at sea. Something is displeased, they are displeased, he knows they are.

'Roland, are you seriously looking for one of those things again?'

A hand is placed in his movement and he jolts, yelping at the sudden contact, his hands wrapping around the beam he has been using to look over the ship. There's a scoff from the man standing behind him as he scratches his beard, looking him up and down before his hands settle on hips hip.

'For fucks sake kid,' he exclaims, shaking his head, 'you're making yourself with the thought of the fuckin' things- have you looked in the mirror recently?'

He’s choking on his words, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth as he gargles out an incoherent mess. Quite frankly, he would have been better throwing up overboard; at least then man would get a proper response from him. His cheeks are red as he concludes he should keep his mouth shut.

'You should have stayed on land,' he sharply states, 'this is our land, they don't have a fucking leg to stand on out here, right?' asks the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, holding his hand out as he points towards the sea with a bright smile on his face. 'One of theirs washed up on our shore, and they didn't stand a fuckin' chance against us.'

Observing the land, he swallows hard at the sight of a small mound of rocks sitting in the distance, tensing in the grip of the man standing beside him.

'She was on land,' he chokes out, resting his forearm against the edge of the ship, resting his head against his arms. The fluid motion of the water slightly rocking the boat side to side worsens his sickness as he sits and attempts to focus on his breathing. 'And she only died 'cause Price fucked up.'

'She only lived for as long as she did because that fuckwit was acting on the orders of the Lord,' says the man beside him, smacking his hand against his back, rendering the other breathless as he heaves for a gasp of air. 'Do I need to go to the Captain and get this boat turned around,' he lowly asks, 'because you're lookin' to be more of a fuckin' burden than anything else.'

Straightening his posture, he lets go of the edge of the shift, rubbing his face with his hands, shaking his head.

Rubbing his eyes, he winces at the dull pain as he does so, 'no, no, you don't... jus' haven't been sleeping recently, that's all,' he explains, 'been worrying about this trip but... I need the money; it's been rough recently.'

'Then get your fucking act together,' snaps the man, 'can't have some stupid mer-freaks scaring you, hey? They've probably left these waters, anyway,' he shrugs, 'they're like spiders; they fear us more than we fear them, and the only thing you've got to be fearful is Donny seeing you in this state, yeah?'

'Yeah,' he nods, noting that they're growing closer and closer to the mound of rocks. 'Need the money for this job.'

'Don't we all,' laughs the man, 'I'm gonna go get a drink, you gonna join me?'

As he looks at the an, he pictures the hot room beneath the deck with one too many bodies crammed into there, all for the sake of getting their hands on some rum. His stomach is burning as bile bubbles. There is nothing worse his mind can conceive at this moment, it's simply a death wish to accept his generous offer.

'No, I'm gonna stay up here; feel a bit sick,' he confesses, 'cause of the long break of voyages.'

Placing both of his hands on his bloated belly, Mike rolls his eyes, letting out a chuckle, 'I will say, strange how trade has been quiet for the past few months, isn't it? Got a village full of hungry people here and they're expecting us to sustain ourselves? That hardly seems culpable.’

'Somethin' to do with the Lords guards. They have more power than good, they do,' snarls Roland, 'think it's okay to demand for cuts of the ships in the water, and for what?'

'To keep you safe it seems,' laughs the man, 'can't have you vomiting into the ocean and angering the big fish, right? Have the village under water in the matter of seconds if you spilled your guts overboard.'

His laughter continues while he keeps his eyes glued on the small island of rocks. Holding his breath, he narrows them as the sun glares down at hm, burning his flesh. Sweat tricks from off of his forehead, chapped lips smacking together as he begins to smile.

'Bet it has something to do with the freak with the skull mask on.... Say, Mike, you ever seen his face before?' he asks with a furrowed brow.

Reflecting for a moment, he rests his hand against his hip, tapping his foot as he looks past Roland, staring into the sea as he contemplates. Resting either elbow on the edge of the ship, he lazily slouches awaiting the answer.

'No, can't say I have, hasn't left the house with that stupid fuckin' thing since he became one of the guards... you reckon it's real?' he asks with a laugh.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Roland laughs, 'tied to the back of his head with pieces of silk, you really think someone like that has the fuckin' balls t’ kill someone and wear their skull as a souvenir?'

Both of them pause, sharing a look with one another.

Then Mike begins to laugh, Roland not too far behind as the pair of them howl.

His sickness abandons him as the pair of them laugh together. Tilting his back, he keeps his eyes screwed shut as he lifts a leg up, unable soothe the joyous ache in his gut.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Mike says, wiping his eyes with his chubby fingers, 'he's doin' arts and crafts at...'

His laughter quells.

Even his sharp gasps for air dissipate.

Roland continues to laugh, only, after a few moments of silence, he clears his throat, his breath clawing at the inside of his throat.

He finds the hairs on his arms stand up, the wrinkles on his sickly face appearing as his peeling lips come together while lifting his head to look at Mike.

The elder man is pale, staring blankly past him into the sea.

'What?' Roland slowly asks, staring at the man, a smile tugging at his lips.

Unmoved by his comment, he turns his head to look in the direction where the man is looking.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he holds his breath as his eyes scan over the area.

There's the depth of the sea, they have passed the rocks he's heard in many account from those who have survived the sirens.

There is nothing there but the sea and the sky.

'Got ya',' chuckles the man behind him, continuing to laugh in the same manner he was laughing in before, 'you really thought I was gonna say that there's a siren there, didn't you? Gotta get them off of your mind, son.'

‘I know,' Roland retorts, 'the skull faced freak really helped... like medicine he is, strange fellow, yet so good for the soul, eh?'

'Good for the soul, but not the wallet,' snorts the latter. 'Wouldn't even say he's medicine, you're givin' him too much credit by sayin' that.'

'Oh?' Roland says, 'then what do you suppose he is then?'

'A witches potion,' he answers.

'Even that seems too nice,' says the spotty man, 'a quacks remedy is more fitting I think.'

The pair of them begin to laugh again, the waves crashing either side of the boat, and with every second they grow further and further from the little pile of rocks, and he finds his aching muscles are soothed.

The bustling cheers of the sailor help to warm his heart and he begins to think that he can stomach some rum.

A drop wouldn't kill a man, that's for sure.

In fact, it'll probably work well to settle his stomach.

'I think I've had a change of heart on the invite,' he says with a smile, 'drop of rum never killed anyone, has it?' he continues on brightly as though he had not been moments away from emptying his guts all of the deck. 'Well, it hasn't yet, at least.'

'That's the spirit,' Mike grins, 'probably help you with that uneasy stomach of yours, know it helps with mine, at least,' he says so while patting his stomach, looking over his shoulder to towards the door beneath the top of the ship where the Captain stands.

The man doesn't even move to address Mike, keeping his eyes set right in front of him, his hat tilted slightly downwards to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Opening his mouth to respond, all air exudes from his lung as he feels an ice cold touch on his shoulder.

Slowly, he turns his head, looking down to the wet patch on his shirt. A short breath escapes him as he notes the webbed hand, nails as sharp as daggers digging through the fabric of his shirt.

'Gonna take more than a quacks remedy to fix your issues,' a soft voice whispers as the hand on his shoulder shifts, and with one fair slash, the skin on his throat is shred as he is pulled overboard.

A gargled scream escapes him.

Writhing against the strong hold, his eyes water as he gasps for air as his body is dragged under the current. Swallowing mouthfuls of blood and water, he chokes out babbled for them to come back, for them to stop as the ship charged through the seas.

Cruelly, the siren holding him keeps him above water as he chokes.

'Don't worry about them,' says the voice behind him, 'water's waitin' for them, a pretty song is too.'

With that, he cries out in agony as your nails are drove into his stomach, the flesh snapping as you drag your fingers through his stomach.

'You helped in her capture,' you seethe, 'you're lucky I haven't flooded the entire fucking town, but if I don't find the man who murdered her, you best believe that entire town is going to drown in the same water as you.'

'T- They'll...' he wretches out, the strength in his kicks calming as his eyes grow heavy, '...kill you,' he firmly states, gritting his teeth.

A loud laugh graces his ears as your grip on him loosens.

'Only if they can swim with a slit throat.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Blood washes off easily with water.

It's the nails it's difficult to remove it from, and he struggles with all his might as he stands at the edge of the shore, scraping his nails into the sand. It doesn't help at all, though, he still insists on doing so; it's the only time the stain of red is obscured.

The beach is bitter to him these days, and even though his mouth is protected from the elements as he keeps his balaclava over his mouth, he still feels a faint tingle on his mouth as he recalls the moment he spent here with you.

You're difficult to avoid, especially whenever he's passing the beach on patrol. Price has made a point to keep him away from it, placing him next to the Lords house during his patrols. He says it's to make it easier on him, so he's not as distracted while doing an important job.

When he's near the Lords house, his ears ring with the sound of your screaming and crying, and the blood under his nails grows darker.

There's a temptation whenever he's nearing the house; one cut to the throat and he would be dealt with.

As easy as that.

Truthfully, the old man has nothing to do with the issues going on within, but he's clamouring for someone to hate, for someone to blame. The old man made the orders, they could have just let her go, but they didn't.

And then you left with her.

In the morning after Serelia's burial, when he woke to an empty bed, his lungs turned to ice. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the feeling of utter despair as he found the pink dress he had bought for you gone along with yourself.

There was no residue of body heat on your side of the bed, he struggled to find anything to even prove you existed as he rushed around the house with wild eyes.

'Sweetheart?' he called, forcing the door to the bathroom open.

The light shined in from the window, though, there was nothing in there aside from the bloody frock he'd helped you remove the night before.

Picking it up off of the ground, he held it out in front of him looking at the drying blood in the fabric. He didn't know why he did it if anything, it only works to worsen his panic.

In the midst of public, eyes are everywhere... what if someone heard your confession to him? What if it was the same someone who hurt Serelia?

He dropped the dress promptly, his hand over his mouth as his face paled at the very thought of you being taken- of you meeting the same fate as the poor siren he'd buried. Only, in the memory, it was your face he was covering with the shabby old white sheet he found in the cabin, and it was your blood on that dress and not hers.

For the next few minutes, he spent them on his knees, gripping the edge of the toilet as he threw up what little he had in his stomach, ridding his body of the last moments he had spent with you.

After the remnants of the pastry he'd eaten before were in the toilet bowl, he suffered through a terrible burning in his throat as his face grew hot as he thought against all urges to throw up anymore. Yet, he failed, a mixture of stomach acid and spit landing in the bowl.

The smell was grotesque, yet, the taste of it was even worse.

His eyes were teary when he eventually forced himself off of the ground, rushing out of the room, quickly changing into his uniform, leaving the skull of his mask in his bedroom, tying the balaclava around his face before rushing out of the door.

People look at him with raised brows, finally able to see the top part of his face, yet, he doesn't care as he sprints through the village, his heart pounding against his chest, hoping that one of the women passing him is you.

The library is closed, you can't be there and he wants to scream as he holds the side of his head, his throat tightening up. How he longed to have the simple luxury of seeing you sat in the library again with a book on your lap. Though, as he peered through the glass of the small building, the space was simply a husk.

Heat climbed up his neck as he heaves out desperate breaths. His skin grew itchy and his blunt nails clawed at the flesh on his neck as he gulped hard attempting to chase after air, to find some form of peace to calm himself.

You left in silence, you left without a goodbye- surely you wouldn't have been so cruel to do so. You would have said something to him, left something for him to let you know that you were okay.

The missing dress is the only form of hope he had, though, the missing dress means nothing; someone could have taken that with you to make it look as though you left on your own accord and not someone else's.

The world is spinning as his breathing quickens, he can hardly make sense of anything around him and he finds himself growing more frustrated by the second. You could be anywhere, he hadn't let you out of his sight for more than a month, and the moment he sleeps with you beside him is the moment you disappear.

After the library, he checked the beach, yet it was clear, not a being in sight, nor a siren.

You were nowhere to be found.

The crashing waves and the grey sky swelled in his head rendering him speechless as he blinks back the tears, clenching his fists as he turned away from ocean, returning back to the village.

When he opened the door to the station, the first face he was greeted with was the both who Price had tasked with the mission of looking after Serelia.

The fool who was sloppy enough to leave her by herself.

'Mornin' Si', you want a tea?' Johnny asked, turning his attention away from Rhys standing beside him.

He doesn't care to respond to the man, instead, he grabbed the throat of the man beside him, slamming him against the wall with gritted teeth.

The man startled in his hold, letting out a loud gasp as Simon's fist around his neck tightens with the intent of only loosening when he felt the bone crunch in his fist.

'You fucking bastard!' he screamed.

Rhys doesn't dare move, weak wretches escaping him as he squirmed in his hold.

A hand grabs his shoulder, 'woah, woah, hey, Simon calm down!' Johnny exclaimed, 'you're gonna kill the fuckin' kid.'

'That' the whole point,' he snapped, 'you let that fuckin' siren die.'

'I- I didn't,' the man managed out.

'You left her alone and she was fucking murdered- this is your fault, Price put you up to it and you left her with no one there to protect her and she died.'

At that point, he could hear the blood in his veins, and had he not been forced off of him by Johnny and Price, he very well would have snapped the kids neck.

Rhys fell to the ground with a harsh gasp while Price stepped in front of him and Johnny kept hold his arms. When Simon stepped forward, Price placed his hand against his chest, shoving him backwards.

'Simon,' warned the man, 'bring it in, I've already got the death of that fucking siren on my case, I don't need another one to account for too.'

His eyes grew blurry as he looked at the man.

'What's wrong?' Johnny asked from behind him, 'whats happened?'

Everything folded in on itself, the cold morning, the absence of you and your dress, the bloody dress on the floor. Everything, every single thing he built with you collapsed, and he was unable to keep it all together as he ripped his arms from out of Johnny's hold.

Looking past Price, he pointed his finger in the direction of the brown-haired man on the floor, clenching his teeth, 'it's your fault she's fuckin' gone,' he seethes, 'all your fucking fault,' he mustered up before storming out the Station, blinking back tears as he returned home, knowing you weren't going to be there.

The beach is bitter now, but the memory is worse.

He doesn't know why he bothers to sit at the beach during the nighttime, perhaps it's in the hope that you'll reappear, or maybe the moon will send him a sign that you're safe somewhere her, and that the only part of you with Serelia is the skirt from the bloody frock he still has in his house.

It's peaceful at night, especially with the waves rolling in gently, and he imagines you're sitting on a rock somewhere, humming a sweet tune, causing trouble as you did so.

Anyone else would have been horrified with the confession, though, as he thinks about the damage that the people in the village have done to you, he wishes you'd flood the entire village and wipe it clean of all the scum in it.

At least then, even if he were to die in the flood, he'd die knowing that it was by your hand and no one else's.

And in his death, the man who he was held back from would also meet the same fate. That's all he's asking for.

Unsheathing the dagger in his belt, he drives it into the ground, dragging it through the grains of sand, taking his eyes from the sea to the deep line he's carved into the sand.

The throat of the Lord or Rhys would be better suited, though, he knows the fate awaiting him if he does something like that.

As he stares at the sand, the crunch of boots against the sand or the creak of a lantern behind him catching his attention though he doesn't turn his head; he knows the walking pattern well... he needs to get lighter on his feet if he's going to attempt to scare him.

'Thought I'd find ya 'ere, Lt,' says the man, walking beside him, not bothering to ask him if he can take a seat beside him. With a grunt, he lands on the ground, exhaling as he looks to the man sitting beside him. 'You've been comin' here since she left.'

'You spying on me?' Simon retorts.

'Seen you while on patrol, actually,' Johnny answers, 'difficult to miss, a big lump of coal you are,' he says with a chuckle, 'ya looked like you needed the company 'cause you've been keeping to yourself for months, and I know ye not typically a man of many words, but you've become a Ghost.'

He doesn't answer him, instead, he drivers his knife further into the sand.

'You gonna tell me what's actually going on, or are you gonna keep it a secret so no one can help you?' he asks, 'I've been thinking about the state of you the morning you nearly broke that kids neck, I've never seen you like that before.'

'You'll never see me like that again.'

'What did the death of that siren have to do with her leaving?'

His knuckles whiten around the knife.

'Kyle told us she was in a right state when Rhys got to the Station that morning. You forced him to keep everyone away from the cabin but the entire village heard her crying,' he explained, 'it was the talk of the town for days after.'

Looking at the man sitting beside him, he fights against the truth.

'The siren was what she was here for, wasn't she?' he asked.

Simon's breath gets caught in his throat.

'I've been goin' over it for weeks whenever I get a spare minute, the carry on out of her, her washing up on the shore out of the blue- not being able to remember the name of where her and her sister were goin' on that ship... none of that was true, was it?'

'No,' Simon answered, 'she told me when we found Serelia, we buried her and in the night she left... or someone took her,' he said.

'You think someone took her?'

'She was screamin' for the entire fuckin' village to hear, Johnny,' he snaps, letting go of the knife as he turns his attention back towards the ocean, 'anyone coulda heard her, including whoever killed Serelia. And I just keep goin' over it.'

He knows he'd never be able to forgive himself if such was confirmed, for what kind of protector would he be if he couldn't have stopped that monster from getting to you?

'What if she just... went back to the water?' he asks, 'that's where she belongs anyway, right? If she got a hold of the girl, she would have went back with her anyway.'

'She didn't say goodbye,' Simon utters.

'Maybe she didn't say goodbye because she knew you wouldn't be able to go,' he shrugs, 'if she woke you in the middle of the night and told you she had to go back home, would you have let her go?'

As he looks out onto the water, he contemplates his question, thinking back to the very night he lost you. He recalls the pair of you lying his bed, how you mumbled one last 'I love you' to him before leaving. Only, this time, you didn't leave without telling him. Instead, you look him dead in the eyes and tell him that you have to go.

Even debating the scenario in his head causes his heart to hurt.

'No...' he begins, his eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes trained on the water.

It's difficult to see in the darkness, though, the light from the moon against the water highlights something bobbing closer and closer to the shore. Raising to his feet, Johnny looks up at him.

'You see that?' he asks, motioning over to the water.

The blob in the sea dips and raises with each wave rolling in, though with his mask and tired eyes, he's unsure if he's seeing something because it's there, or if his imagination is simply willing it to be sign he has been craving for the past couple of months.

'Aye,' he says, raising to his feet.

The pair stand idly staring at the bobbing blob.

'Whatever it is, it isn't alive,' says Johnny, watching as the man beside him shrugs off his cloak, untying the ribbon of his mask and pulling the balaclava off of his face, allowing it all to fall to the floor.

'Keep an eye on it for me, won't you?' Simon asks, looking over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for a response as he rushes into the water, heading directly towards the mysterious mass in the water.

Wading through the water, his pants grow heavier as his boots fill with water, though, he's uncaring as the water reaches his waist. The closer her gets to the body, the darker he finds the water grows.

'You know what it is yet?' calls the man on the shore.

Squinting, he reaches his hand out, placing his hand against the strange mass, pulling it over so he can see what it is.

Hollowed out eyes stare back at him, the sockets devoid of eye balls as he stares at the corpse a float in the water. It's intestines brush against his knee as though they have a life of their own.

The sight is brutal and in the darkness, he can't quite make out the feature of who the body is.

Grabbing the corpse under its armpits, he turns his head back to shore to see Johnny waiting with eager eyes to see what has been uncovered.

'It's a dead body!' Simon says with a grunt as he pulls the body through the water, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he drags it with him.

From behind him there's a slosh of water, the stammering breaths of the man appearing right beside him as he gawks at the corpse. He doesn't say anything, quite reserved for a man who is looking death in the eyes. Instead, he grabs its arm, helping Simon pull it to shore.

The heels of the corpse dig into the sand as he's pulled back to shore, the pair of them dropping him with a huff. Their clothes drip against the land as Johnny grabs the lantern he left beside Simon's masks and cloak, holding it over the body so the pair of them can grasp what it is they're dealing with.

The torso of the corpse is naked, the flesh of its stomach looking as though some sort of wild animal had gotten its hands on him. Only, its the intent of the cuts that tells him otherwise, his throat hangs open, exposing the top of his spine and vocal cords, loose flaps of skin blowing in the wind as the corpse leaks sea water and blood onto the sand.

As Simon moves his eyes up, he lets out a brittle exhale.

'This is one of the fellas who left on the ship today,' Johnny comments, looking to Simon who simply keeps his eyes glued to the chest of the man. 'Roland...' his words trail as he rips his eyes from off of the corpses face, all to see the very thing that Simon is staring at.

Johnny gulps.

'Your girl capable of doing that?' he says with a raised eyebrow.

In the bloody mess of the man, he finds exactly what he has been hoping to fine since he woke up that morning to find you were gone.

Of course, it could have been a shark attack- something other than the work of your hand, only, the confirmation of life is etched into the body as though it's a stone tablet or a tombstone.

Carved into the chest of the dead man is the word 'murderer'.

Simon smiles at the sight of the corpse, looking out onto the water.

'That's her,' he breathes, looking towards the moon, 'she's alive.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The thing is, with humans at least, they're fragile when it comes to pain.

When something seems out of the ordinary, they're inclined to shit themselves and become a crying blubbering mess, begging for mercy as though it is them who are innocent when they acted with the intent of taking another's life.

Even the strongest man cowers when they're forced to encounter something unknown, and you rejoice as you blood at the bloody man on his knees before you.

The curse of the moon never truly left you, still tied to the humans upon leaving the water, and while you have a prolific distaste for you can no longer join the sirens upon the rocks, it works well when the ship is driven into rocks and one of the men manage to scramble to the shore.

He thinks he's safe until you walk from out of the water.

The tides turn and the small smirk on his face disappears as he realises you do indeed have legs and can walk right up to him. Either way, he's a fool to possess such smugness, a song from the water would have drove him right back to you anyway.

'P- Please, please, please, I- I'm sorry, what do you want? I'll give you whatever you want, you want money?' he chokes out, holding his hands out in front of him.

The blood of his friend you plucked from off of the ship mingles with the sea water as he trembles in the cool breeze.

Some dry patches even stick to him, a clump of congealed blood sticking to one of his eyebrows. Trebling hands dig into his pockets as he holds out a handful of golden coins.

You think of Simon briefly, smiling to yourself as you recall the soup you attempted to made with the golden coins he had given you. How you basked in the light of his home eating the slop in the bowl, but none of that mattered because the pair of you had each other.

And then your mind falls to the dress he gifted you.

The dress you left on the bathroom floor, the dress you ripped to leave a piece of yourself with Serelia, the dress stained with her blood.

Raising your hand, you slap the money out of his hands, the coins landing with a hollow thud onto the sand of the a small cove. 'I don't want your money,' you snap, grabbing his shirt, pulling him to you with gritted teeth. 'I want you to answer my question, and if you dance around it, I'll cut you from gut to gullet and let the sharks eat the rest of you body.'

'Of course, o- of course, anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know,' shudders the man, tears flowing freely down his wrinkled face.

Edging closer to him, your face is right in front of his, you can smell the booze on his breath as he sniffles, looking at you doe eyes.

'Who killed the siren you captured?'

He looks at you, opening his mouth as he stumbles and trips over the words leaving his mouth. All attempts to form words are lost to the panic he works himself into as he attempts to think of an answer which will satisfy you, yet keep whoever is guilty safe.

Your grip grows tighter on his hair.

'I- I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry,' he sobs, 'please- please—'

Shoving him back onto the ground, you turn away from him, clenching your fists.

'Bull-fucking-shit.'

His sobs simmer as you look back to the water, taking a moment to contemplate his response. And, you find that you don't like what he has to say, in fact, you fucking despise it because you know for a fact he is full of shit.

Turning sharply on your heel, you look at the man, taking a breath before bringing your hand across his face. He falls with a huff, his face pressing against the sand as he lets out another pitiful cry.

'Wrong answer, try again,' you demand, leaning over, grabbing a fistful of his greasy hair, pulling his head up. Your breath ghosts his ear as you speak through clenched teeth, 'who killed the siren?'

'I- I heard whispers around the village!' he blurts, 'they said that whoever it was was smart and no one suspects them of it... b- but I know it wasn't the man you murdered.'

You let go of his hair.

The only people who knew where Serelia was were the Guards of the village and you know Simon would never have done something so brutal. Price cares too much about his duty to do something so horrible, even though to him, you're sure her death was much more of an inconvenience then it was a heartbreak.

Your mind aches as you go down to Johnny and Gaz. Why would they do something so cruel? As much as you despise their kind, you struggle to see why they would bring harm to her. It wouldn't make sense- even Gaz told you he would have freed her if their hands were

And then your heart stops.

Confirmation is the one thing you have longed for since returning to the sea, the one thing your sisters have wanted for the longest time. You looks at you with wide eyes, stammering out whispers as you release your hold on him.

The entire time you thought she was safe, she was in the hands of her murderer.

Your self indulgence and brief romance cost her her life.

Placing your hand against your forehead, you pace back and forwards in front of the man.

'The boy who Price hired to make sure she was safe,' you mumble to yourself, wiping your face with your hand. How could you have been so blind? Word never got out about her being anywhere, he never went home that night... he disappeared and Gaz couldn't find him that morning.

He was getting rid of the evidence of his crime and he succeeded.

Walking down the sand, you ignore the calls of the man as you return to the water. There's nothing around, no land, no safety, simply just a small cove a lot of soldiers don't account for until it is, fortunately, too late.

'Hey! Hey! You can't leave me here!' screams the man as you walk further into the water. 'I'm going to die out here! There's nothing around here, please, I told you what you wanted, how some mercy.'

Stopping in your tracks, you exhale, peering over your shoulder.

'This is mercy,' you briefly answer before walking into the water, disappearing out of his view for good.

Even under the water his screams travel though you don't care to show any form of kindness as you move away.

He deserves his death for his attempted lie, and you also find anger bubbling for you know what you have to do because of his confession- something you have been escaping for a while.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

They work well on the side of the law, they stick to it as much as they can, though, when the pair of them shared a look while on the beach, they both knew what they had to do.

The breeze is gentle as the move the body further up the beach, occasionally turning their heads to look upwards in the direction for any sign of life as they do so.

Roland's intestines drag along the shore, his body leaking blood and water, leaving a gruesome trail behind the pair of them. Fortunately, the water will wash any trace of gore away and it will be as though he never existed in the first place.

'Why has she decided to pop up now?'

'First ship at sea for months,' he states, 'I'm surprised she hasn't tried to drag the entire village underwater with how torn she was.'

'What did you do with the girls body?' he asked, 'had Price choked up as he tried to explain to the Lord where the body disappeared off to, as far as he's concerned, there's no such thing as sirens cause he hasn't seen it with his own eyes.'

The old Lord is stubborn in his ways, that the pair of them know well enough not to bother questioning his reasonings. Upon his return, Simon recalls the look of upset when Price had to inform the man that they, as the guards of the village, failed at their duties. The body of the siren was nowhere to be seen, and he had to stand and watch as the Captain was subject to a brutal scolding, knowing well where the sirens body had disappeared off to.

It was unfair of him to do that, risking John's position all to keep the burial ground sacred and untouched, but he was still bruised and bleeding from the events that had taken place that night and the morning following.

All he can think about while standing in the room was the look on your face, how your bottom lip wobbled as you laid the fabric of your cherished dress upon the deceased girl, not bothering to consider your love for the item on your body, rather, the love you had for the woman lying in the ground.

Nothing was worth destroying that moment. Nothing.

'Buried it,' Simon answers, 'she's buried at the top of the cliff, just past the Lords house,' he says, setting the man down on the ground as they edge closer and closer to a small cove beneath the cliff, looking up at it.

'Lookin' over her home, ey?' Johnny asks with a small smile, 'her idea, I'm guessing.'

'It was mine, actually.'

'Didn't know y' were the sentimental type, Lt,' he comments with a smile, 'didn't know y' even had a heart.'

'I do,' Simon retorts.

'Really?'

'Yeah... a cold one.'

He doesn't miss the way the latter rolls his eyes.

'Wouldn't be sayin' that if she was here with you right now though, would ya?' he laughs, taking a breath before the pair of them continue to move the body. 'No, I can imagine y' now, all loved up. Thought of it makes me sick.'

Simon fights off the urge to scoff.

'Just say y' jealous, Johnny.'

'Oh, I am so jealous. I wish I had you to fall asleep to every night,' he whispers, his eyes moving from Simon to the body in their arms, 'cause, if that were the case, we'd be in bed right now, not carryin' a dead body, which your siren girlfriend mutilated, to hide it in a fuckin' cave,' he huffs, the darkness of the small cove swallowing the pair as they walked into it.

'These are typical activities for couples. We'd still be doin' it.'

Johnny doesn't bother to respond as the pair of them move further and further into the beast belly. 'Y' sure no kids gonna stumble across this corpse; he's gonna start to smell.'

'Tides rolling in tomorrow morning, not goin' back out until night,' Simon says, 'he'll be dragged back out to sea before anyone else gets to him.'

'Well, I hope y' right; if not, your girlfriends gonna be in a lot of trouble when the people in the village find out about this,' he says, finally relieving himself of the duty when he feels Simons hands slipping off of the body.

It lands in the wet sand of the cove with a wet splat, and the pair of them stare through the darkness, Johnny lifting his foot to find where exactly they placed the body.

'You think she's gonna come back?'

'Didn't dig her nails into him to for fun, Lt,' he answers, 'I reckon she'll show her face soon.'

Whether it is a few days, or even weeks, he doesn't care.

'I hope so.'

As long as you find your way back to him, the knowledge of you living is enough to soothe his weary eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The sisters of a siren are fierce and loyal, even when your tongue burns as you speak to them of the events which had happened during your time on land.

You suffered similar hardships to Serelia, at least, they're convinced you did.

So, as you address the group with blown eyes drawn to the surface, explaining your reasoning as to why you should tread the land, to go back into that village, you're hardly surprised when their looks change as they address you.

Motive is of importance and you wish to solve the case, to bring justice to the woman buried on the cliff edge.

But, selfishly, you're also wishing to bring justice to a man who you wronged.

'Return to land?' a voice barks, 'you will do no such thing; the last time one of us went on Land, her life was taken from her cruelly, I'm not allowing that to happen to you, not at all,' she continues.

You stare at her, looking around at the other disapproving faces which surround you. There's still a void where she would have sat and you feel your lips pulling down into a frown as you stare blankly at the space beside the woman who holds her pointer finger up at you.

'It's irresponsible, you'll get yourself killed if you do that.'

'I finally have confirmation of which human killed Serelia, Raithe,' you respond, rubbing your face as you turn your eyes from the empty space to the angered siren. 'I can kill him, I will kill him, but I need to be on land in order to do so.'

There's a brief silence between yourself and the ground and you feel your chest tightening as you observe all their faces. While stoic, you feel as though the sea is pressing all its weight down onto you in an unlawful attempt to drown you.

Though, in the eyes of unhappiness, you find that you would be thankful if the sea had such a mercy on you.

'I don't understand why we never lead the entire village into the sea,' another siren says, batting her blonde eyelashes as she looks at you, 'would've have gotten this over in a second. We kept our silence up in the first place because they never got as far as killing one of our own, but they captured her and held her as a prisoner- they held you as a prisoner too,' she continues, 'why are you showing them mercy? They deserve to drown for their crimes.'

You pale at the thought of committing such an act against the village.

'Because...' your words trail as you take a harsh breath, sinking further into the current, 'there are children in the village- that's not who we are.'

All of them raise their eyebrows in your direction and you feel small as they do so. Your shoulders touch the lobes of your ears as your entire body tenses.

'That not who you are, not anymore at least,' Raithe scoffs, narrowing her black eyes. 'You've gone soft.'

'No I haven't,' you refute, 'I- I just—'

'She's in love she is,' another speaks, pushing through the water, moving behind you to grab your shoulders. Pushing you closer to the group, her grip tightenings as she forces your neck to the side, the base of her nose ghosting your flesh as inhales your scent.

You freeze as she does so, the only saving thought being the fact that you haven't been held by Simon in months.

Her sharp nails press against the flesh on your stomach, her eyes narrowing as grabs your face, forcing you to look at her.

'Tainted, you are,' she says, 'look in her eyes, look how she moves, you're protecting the very humans that killed our sister,' she accuses, the looks on the others faces hardening in your direction.

'You don't want to go on land for revenge, you want to go and see whoever you were with during the time you were supposed to be searching for Serelia,' Raithe exclaims, 'you are just as much of a monster as those humans are, you wicked little witch!'

'No, no I'm not,' you quickly blurt.

'Then we flood the village; they're all guilty of murder because they helped take her in the first place,' answers the black-haired woman simply.

With beady eyes you look at her, and when a tight-lipped smile appears on her face, you feel the sudden urge to vomit.

You sense betrayal burning in their beings and have an overwhelming desperation to be away from them despite the ties of blood that keep you bound as sisters.

You're released from the hold of the siren behind you all for your face to be caught with the hand of Raithe. Keeping her webbed hand against your face, her grip tightens on you, nails digging into your cheeks as she grits her dagger-like teeth at you.

You squirm in an attempt to escape her hold, yet the only thing you achieve as you do such is forcing her nails deeper.

'You chose your side even before this meeting,' Raithe seethes, 'you chose it when you let Serelia die, you chose it when you lied to us because you are in love, Amalise is right,' she laughs, shaking her head. 'You love a human, how can you be so sure they wouldn't do what they did to you what their kind did to Serelia?'

'B- Because he isn't like that,' you cry, 'he isn't like that, he took care of me, he did everything he could to make me happy and he helped me bury Serelia.'

Your eyes grow wide as you realise the confession that accidentally slipped past your lips.

You don't miss the collective gasp, nor do you miss the feeling of Raithe's hold on you loosening, pulling away from you completely.

'You buried her?' Amalise asks, 'you buried her on land?' her tone raises as she clenches your fist.

'I couldn't have—'

You're struck with a razor sharp hand.

Her claws tear the flesh of your face as you're thrown through the current.

For a moment, you're much too dazed to realise what has happened until your grabbed by the throat.

'How fucking dare you!' Raithe screams, 'you lied to us a- and you buried her on land away from us so we cannot visit her? You are no siren, you are just as monstrous as those humans.'

Her fist tightens around your throat, specks of darkness appearing in your eyes as you attempt to pull her hand off of you. Your nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn't budge.

'You wish to be a human so bad, right? That's what you want, you're burdened by being one of us because if they knew, they would kill you because that's who they are.'

'N- No,' you choke out.

She edges closer to you.

'I don't believe you,' she utters, looking over her shoulder, 'I say she returns to the land, let her human have her,' she suggests, addressing the other sirens.

Much to your horror, they nod in agreement.

Raithe turns back to you, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her black eyes. 'You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea,' she firmly says as you weakly writhe, blood pouring from the slash on your face, a tingling washing your entire body as your hands on her wrists falter and the world begins to grow dark.

'See if he still loves you with a ruined face.'

A final wretch escapes you before you're forced into darkness, leaving the world behind with the disapproving look of Raithe being the very last thing you see.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Patrol around the village these is quiet, and while he enjoys the silence most of the time, he can't help but hate the silence he's plagued with as he's walking around the dark streets.

No matter where he walks he can never escape the sound of the crashing waves. Typically, he enjoys the sound of the water, of the gulls squawking as he passes by the beach, only, ever since uncovering the body of that sailor, he's found the sound only takes him back to the leaking body parts and hollow eyes.

In his time he has seen a lot, yet, that truly takes the cake.

It's for a good cause, Simon knows the implications of the siren attacks and if word got out to the village folk, it will sure be difficult to fix. Their silence has been in their favour as he hardly hears mentions of Serelia in the village anymore, yet, he knows the fear is still there for a lot of people.

Like a criminal, while on patrol, he cannot help but return to the scene of the crime, watchful eyes looking over the shore in search for blots of blood.

It's difficult to know why he is doing so; as far as he's concerned, no one knows what the pair of them did, and truthfully, if someone does stumble across the body, he is fine.

No one suspects a guard, the protector of all.

Sea foam coats the bottom of his boots as he mindlessly wanders further down the beach, his tired eyes looking up towards the moon sitting in the sky. Despite the clouds blocking any stars from his view, the moon makes sure to make her presence known.

If he weren't so tired, maybe he'd acknowledge the red tinge marking her surface.

'Hey you,' a voice hisses.

He stops, snapping his head to look around, his forehead wrinkling as he spies a woman a few meters away from him sitting in the water.

Upon first glance, he straightens his posture, preparing to scold the woman for being so careless, walking out into the water alone in the dead of the night.

Then, the water around her shifts as she lifts her tail up from out of the wind, the moonlight catching the green tinge of her scales.

'Bloody hell,' he blurts out under his breath.

Before him lies a woman with thick, long black hair.

She kicks her tail up, resting her arms around the ground as she stares up at him with wide, black eyes, offering him the best smile she can muster. Her teeth are as sharp as knives and she trails her tongue over the points of them as she grins.

'Come closer,' she requests.

'Ye gonna kill me, lassie,' he responds, 'I know ave got a fun haircut, but am not that stupid.'

The woman scoffs.

'I'm asking you nicely,' she sharply states, 'walk away and you'll be right back in the water with the sound of a song, so I advise you do what I'm asking of you and come closer.'

She grows as cold as the wind as she stares at him, her brows furrowing as she looks in his direction.

Goosebumps form on his skin, and while his head is telling him to do anything else, he relents to her demands, slowly moving closer to her.

The water touches his boots as she sighs, pushing herself off of her stomach, rolling the water with a bright grin, lifting her head to look at the man with a giggle.

'Oh, you listen so well, who would have thought a human would be obedient,' she chuckles, allowing her webbed hands to fall above her head, merely missing the edge of his boots. 'I've got something for you,' she claims.

'A death sentence, perhaps?'

'There was a girl in this village a while back... few months ago now, looked as you did, with your legs and your gill-less necks, but she wasn't true to you, nor your people for she was a siren.'

His eyebrows raise upon her words, and she laughs harder.

'Oh so now I've got your interest now... I don't suppose you're the lover she had while she was on land, are you?'

'Nae.'

'Do you know of the man who she loved?'

'Aye, he's my friend,' he says with a nod, 'you know where she is?'

'I have her with me, some of my friends are keeping hold of her,' she explains, 'but... we've been having a talk, you see, and she no longer views the ocean as her home, nor does she view us as her sisters; she has been tainted by your kind.'

Her face contorts in a horrific manner as she pokes at the tips of his boots. Though, he doesn't move, knowing better than to sacrifice the happiness of Simon for the sake of his own safety.

The man needs this- he needs you back.

'I'm a woman of morality and I am not going to force her to stay where she doesn't want to be, and quite frankly, she is no longer one of our own- rather a traitor to her own kind,' she says, sitting up from off of the ground, looking out at the sea, 'so, you can have her, let her seek out the man who she loves.'

Everything she's saying seems too good to be true.

As he looks away from the woman, two more heads appear above the water, though they are that of shadows as they move forward. As the move closer and closer, the black-haired woman reaches out with greedy hands, and from out of the water, she plucks you, pulling you up the shore with a grunt.

In the moonlight, he catches the brutal gash on your face, how you tale shimmers in the moonlight before it melts into the sand, dissipating in a crude shimmer as you're pushed to him.

'What have y' done to her?' he asks, rushing towards your unconscious form, shrugging his jacket from off of his shoulders, using it to cover you.

'She isn't dead,' answers the black-haired woman, 'that would have been too kind,' she barks out a laugh, watching as Johnny takes you into his arms, staggering backwards from her. 'No need to fear us,' she gently coos, 'at least, not yet.'

He doesn't care to listen a second longer as he looks down to the deep wound across your face, rushing across the beach towards the steps which lead back into the village, the cackle of the siren booming.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nighttime is quiet now.

Whenever he isn't working, he's only plagued with violent desires and ideas, tossing and turning on the sofa, curtains drawn so the moon cannot see him.

His feet hang off of the sofa, a dull ache in his spine as he lies in darkness, unable to sleep.

Tonight is particularly difficult as his heartbeat thumps against his chest and he finds himself tossing and turning at the very fact that, the night before, he got the confirmation he has been longing for for months.

You're alive.

Only, after a while of joy, he finds sadness lurks beneath the realisation as Johnny's point of you returning to the water very well may be true, meaning you left him willingly.

Your absence is cruel in that sense.

He's staring at his skull mask, slowly dozing off as the pounding sound of fists against his door tear him from his dazed state. They're eager, quick and desperate. If they knock any harder, they very well might knock the door down.

With a snarl on his face, he pulls back the thin sheet drawn over his body, marching up to the door. From beyond it, he hears pants for air, not missing a thick accent uttering, 'c'mon bonnie, you're fine, yeah?'

Immediately, he grabs the handle of the door, forcing it open with a hard pull.

The knocking stops as Johnny looks up at him with wild eyes, shoving past him with a body in his arms, rushing into the living room. For a moment, Simon keeps his eyes trained on the now empty spot where he was just standing, a short breath escaping him as he recalls the familiar colour of the hair.

Slowly, he closes the door, listening to the ragged breaths of the man, turning to him with his stomach in knots. He watches as you're placed down onto the couch, air escaping him as he notes the red stain in the mans white shirt as he turns his attention to him.

'It's her, Si',' he says.

Simon doesn't move.

'Some siren was sittin' on the beach, she gave her to me, said she'd betrayed her kind- that she's no better than us,' he explains, moving away from the sofa to the bookshelf, his hand patting along the wood in hopes of uncovering the box of matches he's spied a few times.

Moving over to the sofa, Simon reaches his hand out to you, resting it down on your shoulder. You're cold to the touch, the scent of sea water filling his nose as he hears the scrape of a match and the crackle of a wick.

An orange light is cast over your being as Johnny stands beside him with a candle in his hand.

From out of the darkness appears a crude claw-like mark on your cheek, blood dripping from the harsh gash down onto your bruised neck.

'What the fuck did they do to her?' he asks through gritted teeth, tearing at the fabric of his own shirt, kneeling down beside you, pressing the fabric against the cut on your face.

A noise escapes you when he does so, and he feels a heat bubbling in his stomach.

'You're okay, sweetheart,' he utters gently, keeping a firm pressure on the wound.

'I don't know,' Johnny answers, 'pulled her out of the water and gave 'er to me... said they don't want her anymore.'

Blood soaks into the fabric of his shirt as you stir.

A moan escapes your mouth, and as your eyes slowly open, you're aware of the agonising pain emitting from your cheek. Then follows the feeling of a familiar sofa, the sound of familiar voices and the warmth of a familiar hold.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with the sight of Simon in the candle light.

Despite the bags under his eyes and the addition of a few pink scars on his face, he still looks as glorious as he did the night you left him.

'Simon?' you choke out at the sight of him.

You catch a shift in his eyes as he looks at you.

'I'm here, love,' he gently says, 'you're safe; I've got you.'

You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea.

You hear her voice, her cruel tone, and the coldness of her words flood through your veins, fighting off any ounce of warmness from Simon's reassurances.

I shouldn't be here.

In the blink of an eye, you're sitting up and his hold is removed from off of your face as you scramble to the other side of the couch, wincing as a harsh dizziness floods your senses and the desire to vomit springs upon you.

'N- no, no, no,' you quickly say, lifting your head with narrow eyes, pulling the fabric of Johnny's coat against your bare body as you look at the two men with teary eyes. 'How... why, why am I here? How did you get me here?' you ask in a panicked tone.

Simon looks to Johnny and Johnny looks at you.

'There was a siren on the beach—'

'Who?' you snap, 'what colour was her hair?'

'Black... bonnie, are you okay? What happened?'

'I can't be here,' you ramble, 'they're gonna do something bad, they're gonna do it all because of me and- and I—'

You begin to cry.

'I can't be here, you've got to let me go,' you beg, attempting to raise to your feet, all for the dizziness to keep you down. 'Please, please!'

You feel as though the world is ending.

Unable to escape the horror of the words expressed, you fight against yourself and the urge to spill your guts all over the floor of the living room, your tears seeping into the wound on your face.

Simon moves closer to you, placing his hand against your knee, looking up at you with teary eyes.

Reaching out your hand, you rest it against his cheek as more tears flow freely, letting out a hiccup upon being graced with the warmth of his face.

'I'm sorry,' you cry.

Placing his hand over your own, he shushes you, 'we'll talk about it once you've told us what's happened, alright sweetheart?' he asks gently, 'what happened?'

His calmness in the face of horror is unnerving, and as you look in his eyes, you spy a darkness in his eyes. You wish to be in his arms, but your temper keeps you from fulfilling the urge as you press your trembling lips together, wincing as you swallow.

'They know,' you say, looking at Simon, 'they know about you,' you choke out, 't- they think I'm a traitor and they want you dead- they want to put the entire village to death for what happened to Serelia.'

His hold tightens on your hand.

'Why didn't you want the same as them?' Johnny asks, 'very well could have put the entire village under water if y' willed it.'

'Because there are people here who don't deserve to die,' you sniffle, 'there are innocent people here a- and it isn't fair to punish them for the violence of someone else's hand,' you explain, 'they're blinded by their rage, and if I were without experience, I would be too.'

You curse the part of you which still sympathises with the people who cast you out, though, you know enough to understand who the true villain is. Not the sirens, not the humans, rather, the ignorance of both sides refusing to see the perspective of the others.

And here you are, attempting to piece together a bridge.

The pair before you don't speak and you feel your heart beating quicker as you look into the eyes of the lover you abandoned many moons ago. You spy betrayal in his gaze, though his anger is not directed towards you.

'They're gonna lead the entire village underwater,' you breath, 'I don't know when they're going to do it and I don't know how to stop them when they finally do decide they want to do it,' you say, your eyes welling with tears.

'Oh love,' Simon exhales gently.

'We won't let anythin' happen, lass, y' have my word,' Johnny reassures.

You suppose he wants you to find comfort in his words, yet, his enthusiasm only works to bruise you further; you know there's nothing either of them can do, not against the call of a siren.

'I offered to go back on land,' you whisper, 'I told them I could do it; we finally got the name if the man who killed Serelia.'

'This have somethin' to do with the man y' massacred?' Johnny asks.

'I was following the ship because I recognised him,' you answer, recalling the tone he carried while talking about the man in front of you.

Even if he hadn't been responsible for helping in her capture, you still would have been taken from off of the boat.

'He was one of the people who carried Serelia off of the beach. He deserved what became of him.'

To regret would be to forgive, and you will never forgive a man who did something so terrible.

'We crashed the boat, all but one died, and I asked him if he knew who did it. He told me he didn't know who, but he had an idea of who did it; people around here know that whoever it was is close to the guard.'

Both Johnny and Simon share a look.

'Y' not saying you think it's one of us, are you?' Simon asks, to which you quickly shake your head.

'No, no, I know neither of you would do that- not even Kyle or Price would stoop that low... it's the one who was supposed to look after her, Si'. It was the one who told us she was dead that morning.'

The silence in the room is deafening.

Simon's hand moves away from yours as he slowly begins to stand up, his eyes falling back to the staircase. 'Rhys?' Johnny says, his eyes blown, 'he said he liked her.'

Your eyes stay on Simon's as he clenches his fists, the mellow look which has been on his face since he saw you melting off. Trailing his tongue across the inside of his mouth, you gulp thickly viewing his anger.

'I'm gonna fuckin' kill him,' he coldly says.

It's not a threat, rather, a promise.

Neither you or Johnny say anything, instead, the pair of you share a look before your eyes fall back to Simon who is already making his way out of the living room towards the staircase.

If you speak now, you fear the repercussions of stopping him from doing what he's set his mind on doing; while you never saw anything during your first time on land, you're not unknown to the truth of who he truly is.

'Simon,' you blurt out, unable to fight against your thoughts as you look up the stairs.

He stops in his tracks, heaving out a heavy breath before turning to you. You can hardly make him out in the dim light as he moves, devoid of all the light which makes his so ethereal.

Still, in the light or darkness, he's still the man who holds you heart.

'D- Don't act on that anger now,' you quietly say, 'the only way of saving the village from them is to give them what they want... if they want Rhys, they'll want him alive, and if they don't want me, then I'll stay here,' you say through a laboured breath.

Your heartaches at the thought of leaving your home, leaving the grave of your mother abandoned for all the others to swarm. But, if they so willingly cast you out, then, you suppose they were never truly family in the first place.

'Just... stay with me tonight, yeah?' you ask, 'don't want you to do something harsh when you're not thinking straight; he'll get what he deserves, just not tonight.'

You hear him shift as Johnny sets the lit candle down onto the stand beside the sofa. 'She's right, Lt, can't be doin' something that will keep you away from your bonnie; been away from each other long enough, hey?'

He moves away from the darkness, coming back into the light. You offer him a smile as he places his hand against your shoulder with a short nod. Placing your hand over his, you melt into his hold. Johnny looks at the pair of you with a smile on his face.

'We'll sort out a plan in the morning about what we'll do,' Simon says, 'figure out how we're gonna get him to the sirens, and if they agree with the deal, then we'll offer him up and forget this entire thing ever happened.'

'Aye,' Johnny says with a firm nod, approaching the door, 'make sure y' get her cleaned up, I'll meet the pair of you at the bakery tomorrow,' he continues, pulling the door open, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you.

Simon nods his head. 'Affirmative.'

As the man disappears into the night, the door closes with a click, and for the first time in months, you're finally alone with the man. You don't miss the breath that escapes him, in fact, you grow cold at the sound as his hand leaves your shoulder.

'Si'—'

'Need to get you cleaned up,' he abruptly says, 'we can talk about everything once I know you're okay, yeah? You need to get cleaned up before anything, c'mon.'

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you fight against the urge to defy his request. Though, recalling the grey bags under his eyes, you find you're raising from where you're sitting. As he said, you can talk about it later, and for now, you find yourself thankful that he simply wants to enjoy your company.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'I'm sorry,' you whisper as soon as your head hits the pillow. Oddly, as you watch the man move in the moonlight, it's difficult to even process the fact that you have been gone for so long.

Your hair is slightly damp your bath, and while the wound on your face feels as though it has its own heartbeat, the dressing covering it keeps it from weeping freely.

'I just didn't know what to do, and- and I was so angry with myself and I didn't trust—'

'Your hand was forced, love,' Simon utters, laying on is side to look at you. 'I just wish you would have woke me up or left me a note- something to let me know that you were okay.'

Your heart drops at the thought of the months of misery he has suffered through by your hand.

Even though to you it seemed necessary, you know better than to impose your own views onto the man who was left wandering where you had disappeared off to for months on end.

Your absence was necessary yet cruel.

'I know, I know I should have and I'm sorry for not saying something to you,' you respond, reaching your hand out to grab his much larger one. He grabs your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours with a sigh. 'I wish I never left.'

'You did what you thought was right in the moment an' I'd be a prick for telling you you were in the wrong for doin' it,' mumbles the man, 'y' had to figure stuff out. All that matters now is that you're back.'

'I won't be goin' anywhere anytime soon if you're planning on staying with me,' you say, 'could kick me to the streets for everything I've put you through; I wouldn't blame you for doing it.'

'Wouldn't ever dream about it, sweetheart,' he says.

You watch as he scoffs before moving towards you, letting go of your hand to grasp your waist, pulling you towards him.

Shuffling closer, you smile as you press your lips against you, a flurry of butterflies swirling in your stomach a you feel his hand on your waist tighten.

All the months of pain melt in the matter of moments as the pair of you hold each other. It's as though the pair of you have been apart for multiple lives, plagued with the memory of each other, until eventually meeting again in this life.

Tears pool in your eyes, your hand pressing against the side of his face, snaking around to tug at his hair as he bites down on your bottom lip.

A muffled moan escapes you, trailing off into a whine when he pulls away from you. A trail of saliva keeps the pair of you connected as your eyes flicker from his mouth back to his eyes.

'I've missed you so much,' you confess, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you. 'So fucking much- there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you.'

His hand against your waist loosens as he moves his hand under the white shirt he dressed you in, moving between your thighs.

'Missed you too,' he confesses, his index finger brushing over your clothes cunt with a sigh. 'Wanna show you how much I've missed you,' he utters, pressing the tip of his finger into against your clit.

You comply with a kiss, a small giggle escaping you as he pulls you on top of him. Hands sliding down your waist, you begin to undress, all for one of his hands to catch your wrist. 'Keep it on, sweetheart,' he rasps, 'like seein' you in my clothes.'

Colour rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, hands gripping the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

There's no need for anything, the desire to feel him inside you after so many months obscuring any other sense of yours.

You need him and he needs you.

Tugging down his underwear, goosebumps form on your skin when you hear him grunt as you pull them further down his thighs, freeing his cock from his boxers. You sit for a moment, jumping when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

'Spit in your hand, love,' he instructs.

You feel his eyes on you as you scrunch your nose up at the request.

'What?'

'Listen to me and I'll help you, yeah?' he asks, 'now spit in your hand.'

Your entire face is warm as you hold your hand out in front of your, spitting into it. 'Good girl,' he breaths, 'now wrap your hand around my cock.'

Listening to him, you reach out, wrapping your hand around him. He hisses as you do so, and you pause upon seeing his reaction, fearful that you've done something wrong. 'That's right,' he utters, as precum pools at the top of your fist as you feel him twitch in your hold, 'no more your hand up and down f'r me, love, get me ready for that pretty little cunt of yours.'

A sinful sound emits as you begin to move your hand up and down his cock, your slick hand moving up and down with ease. You feel his thighs tense below you as you move a hand between your legs, your mouth turning dry from the wetness pooling in your underwear.

'That's desperate, princess?' Simon grunts with a smile on his face. You feel the urge to wipe it off of his face, though, you nod your head in agreement, knowing better than to deny something you so desperately want. 'Pull your panties to the side,' he instructs, 'not touchin' that pussy of yours; you're gonna come from my cock an' nothin' else,' he gruffly says.

Letting go of his cock, you do at he asks of you, a small yelp escaping you as he pulls your forward, his cock pressing against you folds as he sighs.

There's a temperament, a desire lingering to keep you on top, though, as he looks at you with your swollen lips and red face, he relents, moving you so you're lying on your bak with him over you.

'Got plenty of time for all that,' he utters, pressing his tip against your hole.

You clench around nothing, shifting beneath him as he presses his lips against yours.

It's different from the last time, you see something different in his eyes as he pushes into you, the delightful sting from many moons ago returning. Arching your back off of the bed, your whimper against his mouth.

'That's it,' he whispers, 'oh fuck.'

Your legs tighten around his waist, a few stray tears escaping from your eyes. It's a mixture of pain, pleasure, and joy. To be back in his arms after so much time a part is a gift in itself, for him to want you back is another. Your mind is racing as you sniffle, pressing another kiss against his mouth.

'Y' okay, yeah, princess? So good f'r me,' he grunts, slowly pulling out of you. More tears fall down your face as you nod your head, your eyes screwed shut as he thrusts back into you. Clicking his tongue, he pushes into you with another grunt, 'eyes on me, sweet girl,' he huffs, 'haven't waited months for you and your pretty little cunt for you to not look at me, have I?'

You open your eyes.

'That's it, there's my pretty girl.'

You clench around him upon hearing his words, legs trembling as he quickens the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock presses against your cervix and your arms home to his back, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

'I- I've missed you,' you choke out, unable to account for any other emotion as he fucks into you.

You're crying at this point, the tears on the right side of your face soaking into the dressing as he continues to his all the right spots, stretching you out perfectly.

He's ruined you for anyone else, though it doesn't matter; you know you'll never need anyone else when you have him.

'Missed you too, love,' he states through clenched to teeth , 'missed waking up to you and seeing you, but you're not gonna go anywhere now, you're mine.'

'I am, I am,' you dumbly cry, 'no one else's, all yours forever and ever.' 'm sorry for ever leaving you.'

Keeping himself steady with one hand, he brings his other hand to grab your forearm, pulling one of your arms away from his back, taking it into his hold. Your legs tighten around his waist as a crude squelch sounds in the room, h

'Fuck,' you gasp, your hole tightening around him.

'That’s right, love,' he groans, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, his words were low and sickeningly needy, 'you’re so fucking tight,' he moans, resulting in a hiccuped moan escaping you.

Both of you greedily take whatever pleasure came from your messy movements, sweat dropping down your forehead as you tighten you hold on his hand, writhing below him as he continues to hit the spot which has you seeing stars.

'Gonna make sure I'm always here,' you whisper letting out another breathy moan.

Simon maintains a pleasurable pace, a crude slapping sounding in his bedroom, though neither of you care, and through stinging eyes and aching muscles, you admire him in the light of the moon, taking into account all the flaws on his face, the remnants of mistreatment and burdens, swearing to yourself you will never left another pale scar appear on his body for as long as the pair of you live.

'Not gonna let you leave me now, sweetheart,' he begins, staring down at you, his fringe wet with sweat, stray strands sticking to his forehead. 'Gonna keep you safe, fuck,' he schemes, a subconscious smile forming on your face, listening to him speak. 'Make sure y' never want for anything, only me.'

He growls such words with intent and possessiveness, and in the heat of the moment, you're convinced you need no one but him.

And as the tension in your stomach grows tighter, the brunet hit a spot which almost makes you scream, you drag your hand down his back, leaving lines of red behind as you do so. 'And you'll let me do all of that f'r you,' he chuckles.

'I would,' you whimper, 'fuck, I'm close, please,' you beg, as your thighs begin to tremble, you grip on his hand tightening as you press your head back against the pillow.

'Go on, sweetheart,' he says, 'cum for me.'

He winces slightly as he feels your nails press crescents into his skin, his pace growing messy and sporadic as he chases after his own release.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob as an orgasm rips through your body.

'Fuck, that's it, sweetheart' he moans, 'I love you,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

You barely compute the words passing his lips, and in the daze of your release, you continue to cry as he fucks you despite you being overstimulated, a dark groan escaping from the back of his throat as you feel strings of cum paint your insides.

'I- I love you too, so much,' you sniffle, your head falling against the pillow in exhaustion, finding joy in his hold of you and the pleasure which has washed over your body, rendering all your sense his.

Little worries find you in the aftermath, the pair of you much too tired to discuss what can wait for you in the morning, and the only thing that matters to you in the wake of your orgasm is his body being pressed against yours as you slowly drift off knowing that, even if it is just for tonight, you're secure in his hold.

Here, you find a single moment is comparable to an eternity of touches.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning, you find yourself sitting outside of the bakery with the ugly green dress you grew to despise during your first time out of the shore, and as you sit beside Simon tugging at the skirt, you startle when he firmly tugs it down, placing his hand down on your thigh, over the skirt to keep in place.

He does so without even turning his attention to you, and even when you turn to offer him a brief look, he doesn't move, keeping his eyes trained on Johnny as he sips from his mug of tea.

'Kyle said he saw another one,' says the man with the mohawk, 'seems they're waiting near the shore for something to happen, or, they're planning on making their move a lot soon than we thought.'

Your face aches as you chew, gulping your pastry down before speaking. 'They wouldn't act so quickly,' you say, 'they want me to get a taste of this before they take it away; when Raithe is angry, she's unforgiving.'

'That's the lass I saw on the beach, right?' Johnny asks, 'the one with the black hair an' teeth as sharp as daggers.'

'Yeah, she's the one who did this to me,' you say, pointing towards the fingerprints around your neck and the clean dressing stuck to your face. Taking a bite out of your pastry, Simon leans further into the table, keeping his hand pressed firmly against your thigh.

'I've put him on patrol tonight,' he says quietly, 'we'll get him alone, call for them to have him and then that will be the end of it.'

'Y' really think it's gonna be that easy?' Johnny asks, 'they seem pretty pissed, don't think they'd really leave us alone that easily.'

'There's nothing else we can do,' you say, 'unless you wanna go into the water and pull them all out one by one and put a knife through their heads, that is.'

Simon's grip on your thigh tightens.

'Cut their tongue out and throw them back into the water if they try anythin',' he cooly states, 'can't sing then, become nothin' but a fish with claws, hardly a threat. They can suffer for all I care.'

Something stirs in your gut as he says so, and while you feel as though you need to keep the women you devoted your life to, you find yourself torn with the desire of seeing the man being so lethal- of seeing how far he would go to keep you safe.

'Sounds like a plan, Lt,' Johnny responds, 'this stayin' between us?'

'Affirmative,' Simon confirms, 'Gaz an' Price don't need to know about it 'cause it'll only cause more trouble if the Captain finds out about it; he won't let us do it.'

'Then we do it tonight, get rid of him and wipe our hands of him,' you say with a grin, 'about time that son of a bitch got what he deserves.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night, you travel down the steps of the shore alone keeping your eyes peeled as you tread down the shore towards the sand. Your hands tremble in the breeze as you feet grace the sand, te rolling of the tide whispering for your return.

You stay unmoved by the moon and her red glow as you push forward towards the sea, holding your hand against your face as it aches.

All the smiling proved to be particularly poor for the placement of the mark on your face, though you push through the pain, you lips drawn together as you peer onto the surface of the water.

'I thought you'd return,' a voice calls.

You freeze.

As a wave washes up shore, the webbed hands of a woman appear, dragging her body out of the water. Her claws dig into the surface, her pointed ears twitching upon seeing you.

'You not bring your boyfriend with you?' she pouts, tilting her head to the side, 'would have been nice, y'know, meeting the family and stuff.'

'I'm not here to make small talk,' you sharply respond.

Raithe looks at you, raising her eyebrows as she looks at you.

'Oh?' she laughs, 'then please enlighten me.'

'I'm here to make a deal with you,' you breath, bringing your trembling hands together.

One shot or you've fucked it.

The woman's laughter booms along the sea as she rolls around on the ground, clapping her hands. 'Oh, you wanna make a deal with me now? It's a real shame what's become of you, y'know? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that boyfriend of yours has some explaining to do.'

Her comments cause your blood to boil, yet, you remain calm, looking her in the eyes. 'We have the boy who killed Serelia,' you say, clenching your fists, keeping your arms firmly placed against your side as the woman hums. 'We'll give you him and you can do what you please, forbid me the pleasure of getting to rip him to shreds for what he did to her and leave this village alone.'

'A generous offer you pose my lovely,' Raithe hums, pressing her finger against her plush bottom lip. 'You got anything else to sweeten the deal or is that it?'

'I'll never return to the ocean,' you say. 'I'll stay away, stay here on land. You can do what you please as long as it remains in the ocean and not beyond it; you know nature did not give us such a gift to act in the manner you intend to act concerning the people in this village.'

You step back from the shore, keeping the water from touching your feet.

'How is that fair?' Raithe asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 'You get to stay here and live out your life with the human you have foolishly devoted your life to while we're kept from Serelia because you buried her on land.'

'By staying here you are keeping me from the grave of my mother, Raithe,' you spit, "I know you're upset, but I have been punished enough. I'm giving you what you want- you want to kill the person who killed Serelia, don't you?'

Raithe's grin disappears from her face.

'You've been scheming so long you forget who the true murderer is. If I wanted to kill the person who killed Serelia, I would have slit your fucking throat,' she snaps, 'a human dealt the final blow but you are just as guilty for permitting it.'

'I was looking for her,' you blurt.

'If you were so committed to finding her, she would be here beside me right now, but she isn't; she's buried on the land, away from her home.'

'Simon helped me bury her on the clifftop!' you yell, chest raising and falling rapidly. 'She overlooking our home and it was him who came up with the idea in the first place- there are good humans—'

'Simon,' she repeats, 'slips off the tongue that name does.'

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the wicked woman in the water. Her mocking grin renders you small, fragile, and you realise your mistake in mentioning the name of the man.

'I must see the man you speak of, see if he's a good match for you or if you could do better. Perhaps he would be a good friend for the water, hm?' she teased, bowing her head as another chuckle escapes her.

The crunch of sand alerts the pair of you, and as you look over your shoulder, you catch both Simon and Johnny walking along the shore, Rhys in the middle of them as he fights against their hold with his hands tied in front of him.

A delighted squeal escapes the woman lying in the sand as she catches sight of the tall man in the skull mask. 'Oh, I've seen you!' she exclaims, 'sitting on the beach a lot, hey? One might say you belong in the water with the amount of time you've spent here.'

'Shut it,' you snap, turning your attention to the three men standing behind you.

When your eyes meet with Rhys' you find you heart urges you to disobey the terms of your own deal, ripping him from the arms of the men, all to have the satisfaction of watching him crying and fight as he drowns in an inch of water.

Yet, even that isn't fitting for him.

His cries are muffled behind the gag in his mouth and Johnny does you the favour of pulling it out of his mouth. As he opens his mouth, he looks at you with wide eyes. 'I- I fuckin' knew it!" he exclaims, 'I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw you run into the sea that night.'

'You killed Serelia,' you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

'Didn't think it was that difficult to figure out,' he says, 'no one else knew where she was... well, not until you had your screaming and crying fit outside the cabin; that was a—'

He's stopped as Simon shoves him to the ground. He lands with a thud, all the air escaping his lung as he moans out in pain. Placing his boot on top of the mans head, his face is pressed into the wet sand as he turns to address the woman in the water.

'We got y' the one you want,' he sharply says, 'you take him and you leave.'

'Or?' the woman asks,.

'I cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs in the village,' he snaps.

Rhys' cries are muffled as Raithe looks Simon in the eyes. Your eye twitches at the prolonged silence, though, when she whistles you find your nerves escaping you.

'A few months ago, you would have had his head for speaking to one of your own like that,' Raithe sneers looking at you, 'but love has your mind warped, my sweet urchin, yes it does,' she scoffs, her eyes narrowing as she turns her attention down towards the water. 'You have yourself a deal, Simon,' she says with a smile.

Relieving his boot from the head of the sobbing man on the ground, Rhys picks his head up, fat tears rolling down his face as he writhes on the ground, attempting to push himself up off of the ground. 'P- Please, I'm sorry,' he sobs, snot trailing down his upper lip as more heads appear from out of the water.

You're far from envious of his position when his shoulders are grabbed. Though, you long to be in the water for what is about to happen.

His screams are hoarse and rough as he's ripped from his home, and as you walk back to stand beside Johnny and Simon. Rhys claws and fights to stay on land as Raithe pulls him further and further towards the water.

Other webbed hands appear and the shrill shriek the man lets out is cut off by a hand covering his mouth as he's dragged into the water.

Upon his disappearance, you allow a breath to escape your mouth as you lean against Simon, rubbing your tired eyes. For months you have dreamt of this very moment, the moment the man who caused so much trouble is finally met with the punishment he deserves, and when his hand breaks the surface of the water again, you grin at the sight of the sea turning red, chunks of his clothing surfacing.

As savage as sharks are the sirens.

'It's done,' you mumble, turning away from the scene.

Simon looks down at you, 'you wanna go home?' he asks.

You nod your head, as the three of you begin to walk up the beach, your blood running cold as a familiar cackle catches your attention, though, you do not turn to address the woman. Instead, you catch Simon's hand in yours pushing further up the beach as Raithe calls out to the three of you.

'Lovely meeting ya, Simon! Hope to see you again some other time!'

His hold on your hand tightens just as it had done during the night before as you walk away from the sea with him by your side, never intending to let go of him ever again.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's as though you never left him, and every waking moment you spend with him is a blessing. How a human can be a home is a strange concept to you, though, its an oddity that you're fond of.

'Are you gonna eat your dinner or are you going to keep staring at me, sweetheart?' asks the man with a laugh.

Dropping your head, you look down at the plate of food you helped him prepare, your cheeks flushing with colour.

The wound left by your absence is but a wilting scab at this point, the skin beneath unmarked by the actions of your past for the pair of you have an understanding of you where your loyalties lie, and as you pick your head back up to look at him, you understand that your loyalties lie with one another.

'I don't know,' you mumble, 'difficult to take my eyes off of you.'

He grunts at your words, picking his fork up from the side of his plate. 'Your foods going to get cold,' he warns.

You pick your fork up, rolling your eyes, 'you're no fun.'

He lets out a short laugh, 'of course not, love. Got a job to stick to after all.'

'Not while you're with me you don't,' you say.

'Once a siren, always a siren,' he comments.

Setting your fork down, you grab a boiled potato off of your plate, throwing it at him. Unfortunately, he's aware of your plot and manages to duck of of the way before it hits him.

A small laugh escapes you as you're quick to push your chair out, raising to your feet as he does the same. A squeal escapes you are you rush out of the kitchen into the living room with him hot on your trail.

Sprinting up the steps to his bedroom, you shriek as he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. 'Let me gooooo,' you whine, writhing in his hold, 'it was an accident, it slipped out of my hand I was literally about to eat it!'

You land on the bed with a thud, continuing to laugh as he looms over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you look up at him with a bright smile on your face.

'You've got to believe me.'

'You picked it up and you threw it at me,' he answers back, 'I know y' clumsy, sweetheart, but fuck me, are you really that bad?' he asks, pressing his forehead against yours.

Bringing your hands up, you hold either side of his face, looking into his eyes with a sigh. 'I love you,' you say, abandoning the joke the pair of you were tangled in. His stoic expression shatters as he smiles down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

'I love you too,' he utters, before placing his lips back on yours.

In the safety of his arms and his home, you live in high spirits as you know, even when the four walls and the roof are not there to shelter you from a storm, the man with his lips against yours and a hand under your skirt will always be there for you whenever you need him.

Selfishly, you hope he's there forever and ever all for you and only you as you cherish every single part of him.

The regrets from your actions in the past remain on you in the form of the scar on your cheek, though, he sees you no different as he watches your naked body dripping with sweat in the confines of your bedroom, even when you're simply sitting in the library reading a book.

All the time his eyes are on you as though you're the only girl in the world and in return, he knows that you're eyes remain on him and only him.

'You're gonna be the death of me,' he breathes, as you shift, feeling his fingers pressed against your hole.

A smirk appears on your lips.

'Only if it's by your hand I die and no one else's.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'Simon.'

In the dead of night he wakes to the faint sound of a whisper.

It's something calling for him, a song which shakes the very vibrations of his home, and as he opens his eyes, he captures you sleeping soundly beside him, though, he doesn't care for you as he pushes himself up and out of bed.

His headaches and he wobbles as he climbs from out of his bed. It's as though his body is on autopilot, permitting whatever strange force is pushing him to proceed with his usual routine as he gets up from out of bed.

He walks as though he's a monster, devoid of all consciousness, his limps sluggish and flimsy as he pulls on his clothes for work. You don't move and inwardly, he's unsure why he's doing so; the moon is out, full and round as she peers through the open window, and he knows it's still going to be a while before he has to leave for work.

Still, the urge pushes him to get ready for the day, and he reaches for the skull mask settled against the table near the window of his bedroom, tying it around his head.

You remain sleeping in bed as he moves downstairs, determined to find the noise which causes his head to pound. It feels as though someone is pressing their fingers into his head all to see which part of the brain bleeds the most.

The answer is all of it, though the voice continues to pick away at his skull with such persistence he's rendered aggravated as he walks through the door.

His entire body is on fire as he treads the streets he was walked so many times, though his feet drag against the roads of the silent village, arms firmly pressed against his sides as he presses on with tired eyes and a dry mouth.

The voice changes its tune, no longer calling his name, istead, speaking words.

'Foolish mortal men.'

In a conscious state he would be questioning the words addressed to him in such a manner, he would be questioning why he walks with the intent of making it to the water, and he would be returning back to his home with an ache in his chest for ever thinking of leaving you alone.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he drags his feet with determination coursing through his veins.

To the ocean he must go; the voice is calling him and he cannot fight against the words bouncing off of the streets of the village.

'Sinking into the watery depths of the...'

It grows tired as he edges closer to the water, the crashing of the water flooding his ears, coaxing his burning mind with a brief cure. t's not enough, however, his mouth is dry and his tongue burns, eyes longing for the fiery thirst to subside.

His entire body feels as though it's on fire, and the sea stares back at him, water washing up the shore as the arms of a human would when offering a friend a hug.

Something else is staring too.

'Sirens den.'

The voice is oh so soft, almost a whisper as he makes it onto the beach. The village seems so puny in comparison to the greatness of the vast ocean and he wonders why he ever bothered living on land when the ocean i right her at his fingertips.

Shrugging his cloak from off of his shoulders, he releases himself from the burden of the confines of that stupid cloak, the balaclava from around his mouth falling to the ground after.

It all feels so freeing, to fall under the command of the great sea, to see the beauty in the very thing he has despised for so long. Such an outlook is a blessing, he finds.

It's necessary. It's constant.

He is nothing in comparison of the ocean and her greatness.

No one is anything but flesh and bone existing in one place at one time while she is there, her arms wrapped around the entirety of the planet.

How foolish he has been.

'For a woman in the sea,'

He thinks of you and all you have done for him, how you have freed him, though he finds you and your existence pale in existence of te water which invites him in with open arms.

At first, you were difficult to deal with, untrusting.

But she isn't, she guides him and she's leading him to safety- to the place he belongs. Such a blessing she presents him with and everything you have done for him is nothing as she cools his burning flesh.

It's better than any orgasm he has reached while in bed with you, so inviting that he proceeds to walk into the water deeper. Nothing is enough, her presence is too little. He needs more of her to settle the dull ache in his head and he wades through the water with the intent of finding such.

'is never just a friend.'

The tune stops.

Suddenly, the sea is no longer in his favour and he's turned away with a cold rush of water covering him.

A sharp gasp escapes him as he looks around him, the water up to his waist, waves crashing against his bulky frame as he looks around with stinging eyes. His blood runs cold as he turns his attention back to the village. Then his eyes fall back onto the water.

He knows better than to trust the situation, wasting no time to turn away from the distant abyss of the water, pushing himself through the water all to make it back to land.

To make it back to you.

The depth of the water is relieved, sinking from his waist to mid thigh.

A grunt escapes him as a surge of agony hits him with the fierce intent of keeping him from getting home and he lands with a splash into the water as razor sharp nails are pulled from out of his his thigh.

'Unfaithful scum,' utters a voice as hands from all angles poke from out the water, grabbing him as he attempts to fight his way from out of their hold.

They're merciless as the hold him and keep him to the water while his heart and mind long to be back in bed beside you. He fights and fights, though in his drowsy state he's far too out of it to do anything.

'She's better off without you, Simon.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake in bed alone, a banging at the door ruining your brain. However, you don't let it distract you as you spend a moment looking at the empty spot in the bed with a frown.

It's miserable to wake without him in the morning as you have grown fond of spending time with him, lying in bed, drawing patterns on his bare chest, listening to his many stories, or simply just basking in the heat of him.

The bed is cold without him and you shiver as you push yourself up, scoffing at the manic knocks against the door. It's persistent, nearly urgent. You pick up the pace, wrapping Simon's shirt around you as you rush down the stairs to the front door.

Grabbing the handle you pull it open, 'about fuckin' time, Si', you're—'

'What?' you blurt out, looking at Johnny and Gaz standing at the door, 'he's at the station, isn't he?'

The pair of them look at each other before looking at you.

'Nae, lass,' Johnny says, his mouth falling as he looks at you. 'We've been looking for him.'

Your blood runs cold.

He's probably with the Lord or something, it wouldn't be the first time he's be asked for a favour by him.

'Where have you checked?' you ask, quickly slipping on your sandals.

'We've been up and down all the streets to his usual spots, we've even checked the Lords house and he hasn't seen him either... this isn't like him,' Kyle explains, 'he's committed to his job, he wouldn't just not show up and—'

'Have you checked the beach?' you blurt.

Both of them shake their heads and with that, you're running out of the house, rushing to towards the beach.

A wave of panic washes over you, and as you rush down the main street of the village with teary eyes, you feel as though you're rushing to Serelia all over again, only, this time, Simon isn't behind you to comfort you.

People blurt out curses as you push yourself through the crowds, bounding towards the beach just as you did when you returned all those months ago.

Your chest burns by the time you make it to the steps, and as you run down, you stop at the sight of a black mound on the shore. Gulping thickly, you rush towards the pile of fabric, reaching down to retrieve it with a trembling hand.

It's his cloak.

Tearing your eyes away from it, you look down the rest of the beach, dropping the fabric as you follow a scattered trail of belongings. You pass by his balaclava which has been covered in sand.

The wind beats against you, pushing your hair back as you fight for your breath. There are pieces of him covering the beach, just as Serelia's scales covered the floor in the room of that dingy little cabin.

All hope is crushed as, right beside the water you spy a small chunk of bone sitting in the sand. You don't wait as you rush towards the water, spying the shape of his skull mask sitting right before the mercy of the water.

It's as though you're in a nightmare you cannot wake from.

You can't breathe.

As the realisation hits you and the skull mask sitting on the shore stares back at you, you fall to your knees, your wide as you look out at the murky sea, falling onto your stomach at your fingertips ghost the skull sitting against the shore.

A jagged breath escapes you as you pull your hand away, unable to catch your breath as you fall backwards onto you bottom, hands pressed against the sand. Rushed steps appear behind you, though you don't budge, nor do you flinch as a firm hand is placed on your shoulder.

Johnny appears in front of you, his mouths muffled as a tear slips from your twitching eye, staring out into the water all to see Raithe staring at you in the distance, a wicked from forming on her face as she pulls a skull mask from out of the water, holding it up by the silk string he used to tie it around his head with.

Your eyes fall back to the skull sitting on the surface, you breathing quickening at you turn your head to the side, heaving as a cold numbness floods your sense. Your tremble as you force out a sob, your throat tightening.

The skull meters away from you is not his mask.

It's him.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @phantomreadsandreblogs @iizx7y

[ihatedean]

please help my baby get his ear surgery done<3

thank you for clicking read more :)

so after months of testing the vet informed us a few days ago that our cat does, in fact, have skin cancer. to get more specific it's actually squamous-cell carcinoma.

(text is in spanish but im sure google lens can translate pretty well.)

it's affecting the tip/side of his left ear and hasn't spread to his nose or the other ear, so the vet recommended surgery to get the ear removed as soon as we possibly can. this would be on september 2nd, this monday.

exams like x-rays and biopsies have already been pretty expensive so i'm making this post to hopefully offset the cost of his pinnectomy (ARS$180,000->USD$189) even just a little bit. the whole thing has been really stressing and adding to that a messed up family situation where i can't ask them for help, please trust me when i say i wouldn't do this if i didn't need to.

details for the fic commissions:

my ao3 account for reference

right now im working on stuff for supernatural and formula 1 so that's where my brain's at, mostly, but ive done a lot of writing for jojo's bizarre adventure (im Very fluent with jotaro and all part 3-4 characters) and for the argies in the room, i've even written stuff for los simuladores and el marginal. i have no issues writing in spanish (rioplatense).

im also comfortable writing for genshin impact. been playing for years and im familiar with the lore up until fontaine. i've been itching to write something for a while :)

im Very Very familiar with x reader fics and will do OC x Character or OC x OC gladly as long as you provide character art or detailed descriptions to help me capture them best.

im comfortable writing pretty much every ship for the fandoms i named and can do gen, teen, mature and explicit works. im open to all kinks and have a history of doing incest and age-gap pairings. im comfortable with most dark themes— will write dub-con, non-con, cnc, and want to hear your weirdly specific skinks. in general, it's easier to say what i will not do than what i will. no judgement, as long as you respect

what i will not do:

horror

gore

necrophilia

violent non-con or explicit non-con (mentioning it in the story is fine, but i will not write the actual scene)

scat

vore

race play (hateful imagery/racial slurs)

kidfic

for formula 1 im simply inept at doing maxiel and c2. in general, i struggle with max and carlos. won't write anything for lando, sorry. anything else from 2010 to 2024 is fine, and im open to AUs of any kind as well as gender bending :)

pricing

Tier 3 — USD$5 for 500 words. 5 slots open

Tier 2 — USD$10 for 1k to 3k words. 2 slots open

Tier 1 — USD$25 for 4k to 10k words. 2 slots open

if i exceed wordcount in any case, it's on me. i'm a yapper.

contact me here or ask for my gmail in tumblr dms ^^

i can only accept ppal for USD$. if you're in argentina and you're interested, dm me for mercadopago info :)

(if you just want to donate that's totally cool. i just felt weird asking for money without anything to offer. it's a me thing)

ppal link

if you read this whole thing, thank you. here is the boy himself. he's almost 11 years old, incredibly grumpy, manipulative, called ugly by almost all my friends, has already gone through eye surgery so that's why his eyes look Like That, and on the rare occasion he sits on my lap i literally cry.

please put sunscreen on your cats, especially if they have white hair like aki. we didn't know for the longest time that exposure to the sun could cause skin cancer on cats and by the time we knew and started doing it, it was too late.

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iv

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

Masterlist | Taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, fighting/name calling, crying, arguing, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, fluff, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

hi lovelies!! so happy to be back with this. i missed belladonna dearly but needed some time away from it to get my head straight. i hope you like this, and please heed the warnings for this chapter! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

May 9th, 2022 - 3:31 AM

The chime of the bell above the main entrance caused a brief pause in Dylan’s story, the silence hanging heavy over the entire kitchen for a few uncomfortable seconds. You looked across the room, your eyes burning into the girl leaned over the metal countertop. She was focused on a video playing on her phone, completely ignoring the three sets of eyes now settled on her. You took in a long breath, calming your nerves before you spoke, keeping your tone as nice as possible.

“Don’t worry Katie, I’ve got it.” You rolled your eyes, pushing past the two boys standing in your way. Dylan scoffed, just as peeved as you were about Katie’s lack of interest in her job. As your conversation got cut short for the millionth time and you made your way into the dining room, he took the time to send the middle finger to Katie across the kitchen.

You had been running all night to serve customers, and she didn’t seem to care much at all. On top of that, it was exceptionally busy for a Friday graveyard, but you accredited it to the unusually warm and sunny skies during the day. Now that summer was nearing its beginning, the town was bustling with people who were eager to get out of the house after being holed up all winter. Thankfully, that also meant that the Fox’s summer hours for the staff had begun, turning your 6-6’s into 4-4’s. The mornings needed much more staff due to the more demanding crowd, and there wasn’t enough people willing to work the nights. Years ago, John had created the schedule to appease his workers, and now it was second nature.

So far, you were enjoying the opportunity to get off work earlier, usually because Danny had taken to picking you up after your shift and going home with you, or vice versa. Together, you’d sleep away the early morning and wake up side by side. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that you were getting more sun, or if you were just happier because you spent most of your days delicately intertwined with Daniel and his lifestyle. Over the last few days especially, you were beginning to feel like an entirely different person.

Instead of waking up cold and hungry, you were often too warm, which was a problem you’d never known. Your belly was full, but not with an abundance of food. Instead, you were completely full of joy, which was also something you never had much experience with. NA meetings went back to once a month, because the usual horror that followed you was nowhere to be found. Life, including all of your usual struggle, was not gone completely, but it was much easier to digest now that you had someone to hold your hand along the way.

Danny and Sam had become part of your daily routine, but you still failed to make anything official with the boy you cared so much about. He spent so many hours sitting at the diner, slipping you love notes on recycled paper and crumpled receipts, and nearly every night beside you in bed. Most of your days were devoted to creating new memories with him, yet you were frozen with fear at the idea of putting a label on it. Although sex was plentiful, and so were sweet nothings and date-like activities, the two of you carried on as if you were friends. The idea of the end constantly loomed over your head, and the debilitating feeling of uncertainty never fully fled.

You loved your relationship with Danny, and you loved all of the memories you shared. You loved his company, and nearly every single thing about him, but you could not shake the thought that he might leave if you let him get too close. He already knew so much about your life that you intended to keep hidden from him, and you were committed to knowing him for as long as his stay in New York allowed. By sharing the worst parts of you, you risked scaring him away. By letting him get too close, you risked hurting yourself even more than you were preparing for. By making it official, you would ensure that his departure at the end of the summer would be fatal.

So, you opted to stick to your original plans; enjoy him while you could, and let him go when the time was right. It was the only way to ensure that your heart was properly protected.

As for your current shift at the Fox, it was as normal as it could be. Considering the recent tension between you and Vincent, it was actually pretty good. That night, he was quite amicable about his feelings about your current relationship, and even took the extra step to make small talk with you. Perhaps after days of complete silence from you, he realized he actually had the capability of missing you. Of course, you did not dwell on that thought for too long, because you couldn’t allow yourself to feel special, especially on his behalf. After the three day stretch of working together and avoiding each other at all costs, he seemed fed up with the tension constantly lingering in the air. Since the start of your Sunday night shift, he had presented himself as approachable and even friendly at times. Within a few hours, you were joking around with him the same as you did so long ago, before your relationship turned sour.

It made you realize that despite your dislike of his behavior, you still loved him as a person. Laughing with him was nice, and talking to him was something you missed, so long as the conversation was good. When business was slow, you found yourself caught in constant conversation with Dylan and Vincent in the kitchen, sharing cigarettes and stories you had missed out on due to the lull in friendship. As for Katie, she’d gotten to work (late, of course), and she hadn’t served a single table, including the ones in her section. Only part of you was angry, knowing the tips flowing your way would be generous, yet you couldn’t help but grow more irritated at her with every customer. You were tired, and more than that, you wanted to keep talking to your friends, to hear what they had been up to in your absence.

You pushed your way through the swinging half door, giving it more force than originally intended. It ricocheted off the wall, sending an echoing slam through the room. With a smile on your face, you hoped to cover up the moment of anger with a facade, praying that you could convince the customer the slam of the door was a mistake. When you looked upwards at the front door, your fake smile dropped into an expression of relief.

“What, no smile for me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you continued to walk towards him.

“Sorry, I can go back and try again if you’d like?” You offered, now within arms reach of him. He scoffed at the idea, already stepping forward to greet you.

“No, I think that’s okay.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed into his hold. “Long night?”

“You have no idea.” You muttered, closing your eyes as his cologne surrounded you. If there was one thing Danny was good at, it was making you feel better just by existing. Over the weeks you had spent with him, his arms felt more like home than any building ever had, and the hints of citrus clinging to his skin was more euphoric than any drug you had ever tried.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to start a fight.” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear, already noticing Vincent’s burning stare through the kitchen window.

“Probably a good idea. Things haven’t been too bad with him today.” You nodded, your words muffled from your face pressed to his chest. Then, you realized how utterly ridiculous it was that the two of you were in desperate need of secrecy all in hopes of keeping someone else in good spirits. Vincent was not your boyfriend, and you were not his property. If you wanted to kiss Danny, you were free to do so, and Vincent should not get a say in the matter at all. “Is it bad that I don’t even really care anymore?”

“No, don’t think so.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want the rest of your night to be ruined.”

“But it would make it so good right now.” You were nearly pleading with him. He gave a low chuckle, parting from you just enough to look down at your face. He raised his hand to your cheek, cupping it for a moment as he brushed his thumb over the tired skin. He wanted it just as bad as you did, but he knew better than to put you in such a position.

“If you can survive another,” he paused, looking down at his watch. “Thirty minutes, you can come over and we can do whatever you want.” He offered, subconsciously checking over your shoulder as he continued to worry about pushing boundaries.

Danny was not scared of Vincent, but he knew that if he did as you asked, you would face many more consequences than he would.

It was not an act of cowardice, but rather one of great care.

“Whatever I want?” You raised an eyebrow, smirking at his open-ended offer.

“I’m a man of my word, am I not?”

“So far, yes.” You nodded, grinning softly. “You want something to eat?”

“Not really.” He shook his head, still mindful of the set of eyes burning into him.

“Drink?” You tried again, nodding towards the soda machine behind the front counter.

“Live to please, Utah?” He chuckled, stepping to the side and taking a seat at a booth. While he did so, he did not dare look away from your face, scared to miss a single second of admiring you.

“Only for you.” You shot back, grabbing a bucket of sanitizer and a cloth from the counter to wipe off the tables. You loved when Danny came to visit, mostly because he was excellent company to keep while you puttered about your mind-numbing tasks. That, and he was nice to look at, of course.

“I like the sound of that.” He hummed, watching the sway of your hips as you walked towards the soda dispenser, placing a cup underneath and picking one at random. When the bubbles settled, you grabbed a paper straw between your fingers. Carefully, you walked it over and placed it in front of him. He barely gave the cup a sideways glance, still too busy watching you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, dipping the tip of your finger in the sanitizer water, carefully withdrawing it and flicking the droplet of liquid at him. He barely flinched at the action, grinning up at you as he spoke again.

“You have a guide to middle school insults in your back pocket? Been waiting for a chance to use that one all night, or what?” He teased, watching you as you leaned over the table to swipe away any dirt from the surface. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes trailing down over your collarbones, settling on the exact spot where your shirt pulled away from your chest. Gravity was helping you in keeping his attention, but it wasn’t like you were trying very hard in the first place.

“Yeah, been studying it all day, actually.” You grinned, looking over at him through the corner of your eye. “You want to check what else I have in my back pocket?” You asked, swaying your hips towards him only slightly. It was so miniscule that you weren’t even sure if he noticed it, but you were foolish to think he would miss even the smallest of movements from you.

In the kitchen, Dylan was beside himself with laughter at the sight of your shameless flirting, knowing that in all of his personal efforts, he’d never gotten such a response from you. Vincent, on the other hand, was not as keen on watching.

With a hard-set jaw and a sick stomach, his foot collided with the mop bucket. The filthy water inside sloshed, spilling over the sides onto the grimy tiles of the floor. Dylan looked back over his shoulder, wondering what the commotion was. As his eyes landed on Vincent, green with envy and crimson with rage, a sorrowful grimace crossed his lips.

He did not know because Vincent willingly told him, but it was not hard to piece together the root cause of Vincent’s ill feelings.

“I should go out there and beat his fuckin’—“ Vincent cut himself off, slamming his fist down on the industrial sinks. The sound of the impact lingered in the air, but it did not compare to the sound of Vincent’s breaking heart.

“You should calm the fuck down.” Dylan corrected, placing a firm hand on his shoulder so he could not swing on another inanimate object. Vincent shook him off, the feeling of his touch only furthering his anger.

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.” Vincent seethed through his heavy breaths. “That’s my girl out there.”

“She ain’t nobody’s girl, idiot.” Dylan argued further, the scowl decorating his face telling of his own discontent with Vincent’s actions. “She don’t belong to you, or me, or him. She can do whatever the fuck she wants, and you better not get in her way this time, or I swear to god I’ll kill ya’ myself.”

“Fuck does that mean?” Vincent stepped forward, nose to nose with Dylan in the moment of high tension. Both boys were ready to swing on each other, blinded by their own opinions and unable to reach any common ground.

“That means,” Dylan said, towering over the other boy as he used his size to his advantage. “She’s tryin’ to be happy, and you ain’t helping.” Vincent seemed to freeze at the thought, his anger fleeing him momentarily. At the idea of being exactly what you were trying to get away from, his throat seemed to close on itself and his blood ran cold. “I get that ya love her, man. She’s hard not to love, but you ain’t doin’ her any good. She asked you to clean yourself up, cause she can’t run with that stuff anymore. You want her so bad, do it. If not, let her go.”

“She’s asking too much of me, Dyl. This is all I’ve ever known, and she keeps sayin’ she loves me, but how can she love me if she don’t want me as I am?” Vincent spoke, calmer than he was moments before.

“She’s asking for what she needs, Vin. If that’s too much for you, then don’t do it, but you don’t get to stay in the middle, mad ‘cause she won’t bend to your rules. If you don’t want to see her with someone else, try.”

Dylan was speaking the truth, but Vincent had never been keen on listening to anyone other than himself.

“Don’t wait until she’s too far gone. Try, Vincent, but don’t you dare go and try breakin’ those two up, ‘cause I won’t be this fuckin’ nice. Get clean, cause she deserves better than this.” Dylan finished, pushing Vincent away from him as he spoke, silently letting him know the conversation was done.

“Fine,” Vincent grumbled, steadying himself on his feet after the harsh shove. “You’ll do it with me?” At that, Dylan let out a laugh, loud and offensive to Vincent’s genuine intentions.

“Fuck no.”

Dylan had used up every bit of common sense he could find, and unlike Vincent, getting clean had not only never been a priority for him, but a thought that never even crossed his mind.

𓇢𓆸

May 9th, 2022 - 4:17 AM

“Shhh,” you whispered, calming Danny down from a fit of laughter caused by a well-timed joke. As he bit his tongue, he closed the front door of the Airbnb behind him. Sam was asleep, long before Danny even left to go to the Fox, and you wanted to be extra cautious to avoid waking him.

“It’s just Sam,” Danny brushed you off, flipping the lock. “He’ll live.”

“I don’t want to give him any reasons to not like me.” You confessed, keeping your tone hushed as you tiptoed towards Danny’s bedroom.

“Are you kidding, Utah? He loves you.” Danny assured you, nearly tripping over himself to open his door for you. You slipped inside the dark room, knowing it better than the back of your hand now. The air was cool, the open window letting the night air in through the mesh screen. Despite the ventilation, the essence of his cologne still lingered around the room, wrapping you in a hug after a long day of being away.

“Exactly why I don’t want to wake him up.” You explained, turning to face the boy hovering by the door. Despite the lack of light, you could still see the definition of his curls, the outline of his nose, and the sharpness of his jaw.

Even in near total darkness, he was stunning.

“Tell me about your day.” He changed the subject, smiling as the glow of the porch light filtered in through the expensive blinds. It hit your face just right, allowing him to admire the softness of your features.

“It was… normal, I guess.” You said, slipping out of your jeans that were filthy from the twelve hour shift. Even as you did so, his gaze never trailed away from your face. You kicked your legs softly, the button scratching against the true wooden floors as they fell away from your ankles. “Very busy.”

“Tell me more.” He pressed further, breaking his attention away from you only for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. His sweatpants sat low on his hips, deliciously tempting as they framed the outline of his hip bones.

“Katie was late.” You shrugged, taking your own shirt off. He threw you the one he had on seconds earlier, knowing not to let it fall to the ground. As it landed in your hands, you noticed the warmth of his body still desperately clinging to the fabric.

“As usual.” He commented, watching as you unclipped your bra and pulled the shirt over your head. Once you were out of your dirty clothes, you sat down on his bed, noticing the softness of the mattress immediately. You would never say it aloud, but you were almost embarrassed to have him stay at your apartment, knowing the springs sticking out of your beaten up mattress could never rival the coziness of his.

“She didn’t serve a single customer all night.” You continued, crawling to the head of the bed and burrowing under the comforter. “So that sucked, but I got wicked tips.” Once you were comfortable, he joined you in the bed, resting his head on the same pillow you were on.

You felt his hand go in search of your thigh under the blanket. The touch was small, and it was innocent, but it felt like a million dollars. His rough fingertips grazed over your cool skin, sending goosebumps over your entire body. You melted into the feeling of him beside you, nudging closer to him until eventually your cheek was pressed to his bicep. Without hesitation, he turned onto his side and lifted his arm, inviting you even closer. You jumped at the opportunity, rolling into him and resting your head on his chest. When his arm dropped, he guided the rest of your body into him with little force.

Although you wanted to keep yourself convinced that the relationship with him was fun and did not come with any strings attached, you knew you were fooling yourself. His arms felt more like home than anything else, and you’d been searching for such comfort since you learned how to walk.

“Vincent actually talked to me tonight.” You added. He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his heart speed at the mention of his name.

“Did he?” Danny asked, trying to remain calm and supportive over the idea. Although he was not Vincent’s biggest fan, he knew that you cared for him. His biggest worry was not a lack of loyalty, but rather your well-being entirely.

“Yeah, but it was just like it used to be. Like it was when we were friends.” You wanted to assure him that he had nothing to worry about, but the connotation of friendship between you and Vincent was not a comfort at all.

You may have been happy to be friends, but Vincent always seemed to want more.

“What did you do while I was gone?” You asked, letting your fingers trail down his bare stomach. The tickle sent a shiver down his spine, and as you traced shapes into his skin, he felt his heart begin to beat for you in that moment.

“Not a whole lot, really.” He admitted, letting his hand fall to the curve of your back. His fingertips rested above the seam of your underwear, threatening to go further but never crossing the boundary. “Think we wrote a new song.”

“That’s not a whole lot?” You chuckled, craning your head up to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked down, meeting your gaze with a small smile stuck on his lips. “I think it’s a whole lot. I’d like to hear it, whenever you want to share.”

“I’m sure we could make that happen.” He whispered, his eyes flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it, you were leaning upwards, desperate to remember what it felt like to kiss him. “I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow, if you’re interested?” He offered, feeling the tip of his nose graze yours as you continued to gravitate towards him.

“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?” You asked, so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“Surprise?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping you would go along with it.

“How do I know if I want to go if I don’t know what we’re doing?” You challenged, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

“You trust me?” He offered the idea as if it were something that had never crossed your mind before. His hand drifted downward, cupping your ass in his palm. The feeling sent a rush of arousal through you, despite him barely doing anything at all.

That was just how fantastic he was; he barely had to look your way to have you swooning over him.

“That’s a lot to ask of me, you know.” You said, finally pausing in place. If you moved any closer, the conversation would come to an abrupt end. He chuckled, letting his fingers dip below the waistband of your underwear. The warmth of his skin against yours sent your stomach twisting into knots.

“Anything I can do to convince you?” He asked, smiling ever so slightly as he watched your face.

“A couple things, yeah.” You nodded, continuing the act. One thing you loved about being around Danny was that everything was playful and rarely serious. His company came with the notion of fun, never a dull moment and always lighthearted. It was so different from everything else in your life, and that made it hard not to love it.

He leaned forward, capturing you in the kiss he’d promised you at the diner. Your eyes fluttered closed, your heart speeding in your chest as your abdomen filled with butterflies. It didn’t matter how integrated he was in your daily routine, or how comfortable you were with his company. Every time you found yourself in the position, it seemed to shock your system in the most pleasant ways.

When he pulled away, you noticed his grip on you had tightened every so slightly, silently telling you he felt the same way.

“How was that? You convinced yet?” You gave a soft shrug, continuing to tease him about the same things. You rolled away from him, settling into the mattress as you stared at the ceiling. He chuckled at your sudden movements, but didn’t complain about you parting ways.

“Tell me about your song.” You hummed, feeling the deadly grip of exhaustion begin to take hold. Your eyes burned as you listened to the sound of his breathing, waiting for him to divulge into the story of his music.

“I guess… it’s part of a bigger story, you know? Like the whole album is this big metaphor for life and death, and love, and we’re just trying to find missing pieces of the puzzle so the story can tell itself. It’s about war and peace, and nature too. It’s about everything, and every song is so different but still important. We don’t really decide what the songs are about, the album does.” He rambled, seemingly falling into the same position as he stared at the ceiling. It was like the entire picture was playing out on the warm beige paint that decorated the room, growing more intense as the words left his lips.

“You can’t tell me the meaning of one without knowing the rest of them.” You whispered, looking over at him, in awe of his passion for his music. You watched him nod, happy you understood his words. As he did, your mind tunneled elsewhere, your thoughts digging down to the deepest parts of your brain in search of something you did not know you needed an answer for. You blinked a few times, swallowing your thoughts as they swirled around, seemingly aimless. “The story tells itself.” You mumbled, blinking a few times to process the idea again.

“Yeah,” he agreed again, glancing over at you as he noticed your change in tone.

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice hushed as you scrambled to sit up. Danny’s eyebrows furrowed, confused about what you were talking about and even more confused about your sudden burst of energy.

You twisted your upper half around, reaching to the nightstand on the bedside. In the dark, you fumbled around to find the familiar leather binding of your notebook. When your fingers touched the surface of the journal, you hauled it over and dropped it in your lap.

“I’ve been stuck on the same stupid part of this story for days now. I keep thinking I need to come up with the perfect scene, and I keep changing it because it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not right because it doesn’t fit the story. I stopped the flow, I tried to change the whole mood because I thought the scene needed to be more interesting, but it doesn’t. The story needs to tell itself.”

Much similar to your fictional world, that realization would have served you well in every aspect of your life, specifically when it came to the boy laying next to you. You were trying so hard to shove your feelings down, to equate your care for him to a love of fun, but you were standing in the way of a story that was bound to tell itself sooner or later.

He watched you, smiling at your revelations, but you weren’t paying attention to him anymore. You had already flipped open the cover, finding the pen stuck between pages, and tried your best to keep writing in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows. As an act of love, he reached over and flipped the switch for the lamp beside the bed, ensuring that you wouldn’t strain too much trying to write in the dark. As if he never moved at all, you did not even register the shift in the atmosphere, nor the movement beside you in bed. Within seconds, you were immersed in the imaginary world unfolding on the paper before you.

Danny bit his tongue, holding back any more words so he did not break your focus. He laid back on the mattress, turning on his side to face you. Carefully, he inched closer to the end of the bed and slung his arm over your legs just below where your journal sat. His head rested on the pillow beside your elbow, and he leaned his head forward to place a gentle kiss to your forearm.

His eyes floated upwards, focusing on your determined expression. He studied the furrow of your brow and the purse of your lips as your hand scribbled words on the lines of your paper. He thought you were the most beautiful thing in the whole world, and he would be happy to sit in silence and watch you write for the rest of his life. Under the blanket, his thumb drifted across the soft skin on your thigh, a gentle reassurance that he was overjoyed he had given you a breath of inspiration.

He wanted to tell you that he was your biggest fan, but something inside of him felt that you already knew it.

Just like everything else in the world, the story of you and Daniel was beginning to tell itself, and neither of you had the ability to change the tale along the way.

May 9th, 2022 - 11:26 AM

“Where are you taking me, Daniel?” You asked, reiterating your question for the millionth time. He had his GPS programmed to the Bronx, but everything else had been kept secret since the minute you stepped outside that morning.

“I told you, it’s a surprise. Do you not know what that means?” He chuckled, squeezing your thigh gently. His hand had been permanently anchored there since you took post in his passenger seat, and you were keen on keeping it that way.

“I do, but it doesn’t mean I like it.” You huffed, looking out the window as you watched traffic pass you by. You had been driving for a while now, and if you had it your way, you would drive all day long with him. The intimacy of being alone together in his car was something you had been craving, considering most of the time you were in the living room with him and Sam both. It wasn’t a problem to spend time with Sam, but you would be lying if you said you preferred it over alone time with Danny. “You know we don’t have to do anything fancy. I’d be happy to just spend the day with you like this.”

“I know you would, Utah.” He said, nodding along with your sentiments. “Have you considered that maybe I want to do this?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And who said it was fancy? Maybe you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“I wouldn’t have to guess if you’d just tell me!” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes at his stubborn nature. When you couldn’t stand the irritating smile he constantly held any longer, you turned to look out the window, wondering if you could piece together the location just by road signs and familiar directions.

The longer you watched, the more you understood that you would never be able to piece it together, because you rarely left the secure bubble of your poverty stricken suburb. Then, your mind wandered elsewhere as you realized Danny had zero familiarity with the area, even less so than yourself. You turned back to face him, a new thought bugging you as you watched his face.

“Does being so far away from home make you nervous?” You asked, unable to hold back your random curiosity. He glanced over at you from the drivers seat, just finishing sipping at the coffee he’d grabbed when you stopped for breakfast. As he placed it in the cup holder, he gave a small shake of his head.

“No, not really. Guess I’m used to it, now. We’ve been all over the place, playing shows and stuff. It’s fun more than it is scary. I miss home a lot, but I’m not nervous when I’m away.” He replied. You gave a slight nod, processing the information before speaking again.

“I guess… I never really realized how foreign this place was to you. Like, I don’t really come to this part of New York much, but probably still more often than you do.” You explained yourself more, hoping that the words made sense to him. Sometimes, you had an awful habit of struggling to relay thought to speech, and your intent often got jumbled on the journey between the two.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded, clicking on his signal light as he pulled into a cutoff lane. “It is all new, but it’s nice, you know? Only thing I don’t like is having to rely on a map or a GPS all of the time. I get lost all of the time, even on the way from my place to yours sometimes.” He chuckled, the thought striking him as funny.

“Really?” You asked, amazed at the comment. To you, it was second nature to navigate the backroads of your tiny little world, and you never would have guessed that someone would find it difficult to catch on to.

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling over at you. “I would never be able to find my way to the park we went to on our first date without help.”

“What!?” You exclaimed, laughter mixed in with the shocked question. “Okay, hold on.” You said, reaching down to your bag by your feet, pulling it into your lap as he watched you with curiosity. You pulled your journal out, grabbing at one of the loose pieces of white paper held inside. Then, you grabbed a pen and a highlighter from the very bottom of the bag. You tossed the canvas material of the dollar store tote back on the floor, settling the journal on your lap and the paper atop of it.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, glancing between you and the road as he tried to figure out your next move.

“You’ll see.” You responded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear as you closed your eyes, trying your best to recall the layout of your suburbs from memory. After a moment, you opened your eyes, carefully drawing a few long lines on the paper.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, focusing intently as you mapped out the land as best you could. Eventually, when you were happy with the makeshift roads with the black pen ink, you used the highlighter to draw yellow stars at the most important places. There was a slight shake in your hand, the lines bumpy and messy every time the car made an unexpected move, but you did the best you could with what you had. Once you drew the stars in, you labelled each one, looking it over once before a triumphant smile crossed your lips. You flashed the paper in his direction, knowing he couldn’t focus on it too intently while he drove, but okay with explaining it to him.

“Here’s a map. It’s not a very good map, but it’s a map, nonetheless.” You giggled, throwing the pen and marker back in your bag. He looked up at your gleeful expression, finding his heart swell with affection as he listened to your words. “This is you and Sam,” you pointed to the yellow star in the very top corner of the page. “And if you go down your road and turn onto the highway,” you continued, tracing the long black line with your finger “you get to the Fox.”

“Okay.” He nodded, following along with your words as he remained mindful of the road.

“If you turn up this first street after you pass the Fox, you can go back to the old abandoned school. I haven’t shown you that yet, cause there isn’t much to see.” You explained, tracing your finger carefully so he clearly understood you. “That’s the road before the cutoff to mine.”

“Oh, okay.” He said, genuinely intrigued at your explanation. “If you keep traveling up the highway, you get to the cutoff for my road—it’s the Main Street between both suburbs, so it gets the fancy turnoff from every side.” At that, he laughed. “If you follow the road, you’ll pass the Pony, and then here’s my complex.” You pointed to each respective star. “If you turn up the street between me and the pony, you’ll find the old church they turned into an NA hall.” You failed to explain why you knew the directions to that specific building, but you thought you ought to include it anyway, considering there wasn’t much else to add. “If you keep going past my place, there’s another road, and that’s where the gas station you picked me up from that day.” You said, showing him the next star.

“Huh,” he hummed, a smile growing on his lips as he listened to you talk. As of late, listening to you had become his favourite pastime. “Past that on my road, it’ll lead to a dead end if you’re going straight. If you turn down, in the direction the Fox would be, you can get to those fancy stores we passed, and the antique shop. If you keep going, you get to the park!”

“You are quite the woman, Utah.” He laughed, finding the glee in your face make his heart beat a little faster. “Thank you for drawing that.”

“Hopefully it helps.” You smiled, sticking it in the sun visor above your head.

“You know, if I hadn’t been there before, I wouldn’t understand a word you said, or any part of that map.” He laughed, reaching over and placing a loving hand on your thigh to lessen the blow of his harsh words.

“Hey! I thought it was pretty damn good!” You defended, your eyebrows furrowing together in frustration. Your response only made him laugh harder, and eventually, you couldn’t help but join in. The sound of his happiness was infectious, and you felt like being miserable around him was a waste of time.

“You are an excellent writer,” he began again, slowing as you pulled up to a red light. “But for the love of god, please don’t get into cartography.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t even know where he’s going.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if I had a little more time, it would have been more helpful, but your directionless blundering around town makes me nervous.”

“Nervous, eh? Like you care about me or something?” He raised an eyebrow, his fingers tightening on your thigh ever so slightly.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” You teased, but he knew it was a joke. You were both comfortable with the fact you cared about each other, and even more so with expressing it. Although, the real reason you drew him the map partially was because you didn’t want him getting lost, and more so because you wanted him to memorize where you lived. Selfish, maybe, but you were completely shameless about it.

It wasn’t much longer before Danny pulled off into a crowded lot. You straightened in your seat, filled with excitement at the sight of lush green trees and flowers lining the white building. The architecture of the building was breathtaking, the entrance surrounded by large panel windows and the upper half made nearly completely of glass. He pulled into a parking spot, glancing over at you with a smile on his face.

“Danny,” you breathed, taking in the sight with wonder in your eyes.

“You mentioned it a few weeks ago… said you’d never been. I thought it would be nice if we saw it for the first time… together.” He articulated his words carefully, wondering if maybe it was too much and you were off put by the thought.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” You said, reaching over and placing a gentle hand on his bicep. “Nobody’s ever… remembered, like you do.” You stressed the point, understanding that after 23 years, he was the first person to care enough to listen while you spoke. “You’re the sweetest.” He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, saddened at the sound of your words but touched by your sentiments.

“Good thing I like remembering, and I like you.” He grinned. “Maybe you can write me a poem about it when we get home.”

Home.

Unspecified as to where, but without a doubt including you. He found as much comfort in your company as you did in his, and he was unashamed to admit it.

“I’ll write you all the poems you want, Michigan.” You promised, feeling your heart beat just a little faster as you held his gaze. Little did he know, you’d already been doing that; every stanza seemed to pertain to his heart, and every single word was inspired by his beautiful face. You would write about him until there were no more words left to say, and then you would create your own just to tell the world how much he meant to you.

“That’s a big promise, Utah.” He warned, trying to keep his thoughts in check as your hand lingered on his arm. “If it were up to me, I’d never stop reading your poems.”

“Shut up.” You squeaked, your cheeks burning red as you gave him a slight push. He fell back into the door, a laugh stuck in his throat as he dusted his thumb over your leg.

“Never.” He promised, turning the car off and making sure he had all of his things. “Now let’s go, we have a botanical garden to see.” At that, he jumped out and rushed over to your side of the car, opening the door for you before you had a chance to do it yourself.

With a playful eye roll, you grabbed your bag from the floor and checked inside to make sure you had everything. You had nearly everything, not realizing what you were missing until your fingers landed on the bag of sour candies you always kept close by, noticing it was far too light. Your stomach dropped as you looked inside, realizing it was empty. You rummaged around the bottom of your tote, checking to see if they’d fallen out or if you had eaten them all and forgot to replace them.

“What’s wrong, Utah?” He asked, noticing your panic.

“Nothing.” You assured him, rushing the word out as you tried to cover your momentary panic. They were gone, and you were stupid enough to forget about buying more when you ran out.

“Utah.” He spoke, using a tone of voice that told you he knew better than that.

“It’s just… I’m okay, I just ran out of sour candy.” You said through your teeth, knowing it didn’t seem like a big deal to him, even if it felt like the end of the world to you. “I know, it’s stupid. I’ll be okay.” You breathed, realizing you couldn’t tell him why it was such a problem.

You could make it through a few hours without a fallback, a few amazing and fun hours with your favorite person. You checked not because you needed one, but because you never went anywhere without them. You had been having so many good days that you hadn’t reached for one in a while, and you could keep up the good work for a little while longer.

Issue was, now that you knew you didn’t have a quick distraction if a thought plagued you, it was all you could think about. You weren’t amidst a craving, and you likely never would have been if you didn’t notice that the candy was gone. Now that you did, it was the only thing running through your head.

“Oh,” he laughed, like you had told him a joke. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance, your lungs burning and your stomach sick while he laughed it off.

You couldn’t be mad at him. He didn’t know.

“Here, baby.” He said, reaching over you and popping open the center console. You looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, turning your head to watch as he pulled something from it. At the sight of the familiar green and yellow bag, your entire body relaxed, but instead of just a sense of relief, you felt a wave of adoration join it. “I keep one in here, just for you. I know you always eat them, and I saw them at the store, so I grabbed one. Guess it came in handy after all.” You turned back to face him, your eyes soft and your heart filled with love for him.

Wait—love?

No, that couldn’t be right.

You pushed the thought as far down as you could, swallowing the lump in your throat as you reached for his face. Your palms landed on his cheeks, and you were leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips before either of you could register it. He dropped the bag in your lap as he grabbed your hip, an automatic response to the feeling of your mouth on his.

He had no idea, and that almost made it worse. He had no idea what you needed them for, and he likely thought it was a childish fixation that you could live without, but he didn’t care. Even if he thought that, he still went out of his way to keep them in his car to make you happy.

“You are extraordinary, Michigan.” You whispered, slightly breathless from the kiss, suffocating from the feelings you had for him. “Thank you. You saved the day.” He seemed to do that a lot, but you tried your best not to focus on it.

You wanted to save yourself, but god did it feel good when he did half the work for you.

“I’ll always save the day for you.” You couldn’t help but feel the twinge of pain in your chest, the one that was felt every time he said something like that. It wasn’t because his sweet words weren’t welcomed, but rather that you knew it wasn’t true. Daniel would not always be around, and the relationship between you would cease to exist when he packed up his Airbnb and left for Nashville. You spoke to each other as if the end wasn’t near, like it wasn’t a possibility at all for the two of you to go your separate ways, but you both knew you were lying to yourselves. “Now come on, let’s go see the flowers.”

“Right.” You grinned, shoving the bag of candy in your purse and hopping out with him.

He shut the door behind you, slipping his hand in yours as you walked together. You approached the entrance to the building, where he held the door for you. As you stepped inside, you were overwhelmed with excitement. You had lived in New York for over a year, and you’d never had the chance to visit the main attractions much. You lined up to pay your entry fee, and your eyes fell upon the screen flashing with prices.

Your stomach dropped, the final piece to the puzzle only clicking in for you when you saw the dollar signs. Hastily, you reached for your bag, dropping your hand from Danny’s to grab your wallet. He noticed your sudden withdrawal, his gaze turning to you as he watched you open the clip and search for dollar bills that weren’t there.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hand landing on your lower back to snap you out of the fit of panic. Your eyes met his, your nervousness written all over you as he studied your expression. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Daniel, I can’t let you—“

“I want to.” He corrected, his tone firm and his eyes genuine. “It was my idea to come, so I’ll pay.”

“Baby, you don’t have to do that.” You argued, feeling guilty that your own impoverished lifestyle was affecting him.

“I know I don’t have to.” He said, raising a hand to your face to brush the stray hairs from your eyes. “I’d be a pretty terrible date if I didn’t pay for it.”

“That’s not true—“

“Hey,” he cut you off, showing you he was serious. “Don’t worry about it.” He reiterated his earlier statement. “All you need to worry about is having fun.”

“You’re too good to me.” You hummed, dropping your wallet back into your bag. Such generosity was something you’d never experienced before, but you were slowly getting used to it with his help.

“I love being good to you. You deserve it.” You tried not to focus on his words, finding it so different from the way Vincent normally spoke to you. You didn’t want to make it mean anything more than it did at face value, but it was hard not to latch onto the sentiment behind it.

After he paid for the two of you, he grabbed a map so he could navigate the large area. Hand in hand, the two of you began the journey, walking slowly to soak in the sights around you. The first thing you noticed was the looming cherry blossoms decorating the doorway as you stepped back out into the yard. The light pink hue caught your eye, entrancing you as you walked underneath it. The sweet smell of the petals struck you with force, causing your eyes to flutter closed in bliss. Daniel seemed to be just as immersed in the moment, appreciating the beauty of you amidst such things, rather than the trees themselves.

The sight of the conservatory dome behind the breathtaking landscape was otherworldly, the view ethereal as you tried your best to commit the memory in your mind forever.

“Danny, this is… stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The fresh air around you seemed to pull you into a warm embrace, the greens of the leaves and the pristine shape of the cobblestone walkways below your feet all making you feel undeserving of the gift he had given you.

“It is, huh?” He said, in just as much disbelief as he turned to look at the tree branches billowing behind him. You hugged your bag tighter to your body, the rough fabric of the tote scratching against your exposed side. Choosing to wear Danny’s muscle shirt seemed like the right idea at the moment, but paired with your torn jeans and worn out converse, you now felt completely underdressed. “Where do you want to go first, Utah?” He asked, flicking open the map so you could take your pick. You inched closer to him, leaning forward to get a better look before you decided.

“I want to see the perennial garden… oh, daffodil hill! And the lilac collection! The Rockefeller Rose Garden sounds beautiful, too.” You gushed, unable to contain your excitement. He smiled softly, wrapping his arm around you as he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s do it all, then. We have all day.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling as you admired his face.

“Really, Utah.” He promised, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “But I want to see the meadow and water feature with the native plant garden, and I have to see the tropical pool.” He bargained.

“Deal,” you nodded, knowing you would do anything so long as it meant you could spend time with him. “We better get started.”

Hand in hand, you made your way to the first stop, following the map closely as you walked. He raised the sheet closer to his face, following the path with his eyes as you faced a fork in the road.

“You know, Utah, you could really take some tips from this map. I can actually read it.” He quipped, lowering it as he flashed you a grin. You rolled your eyes, knocking shoulders with him and watching him falter slightly.

“You love my map—don’t pretend to hate it.” He chuckled, knowing that he did love it, but only because it was made by your hand. To him, anything you created was worth loving.

“I do, even if it only confuses me more.”

“Whatever, Michigan.” You scoffed, pulling him in the direction of the tropical pool. He shut up quickly once he realized where you were headed, following along silently as his eyes scanned over the greenery sprouting from the small pond lining the walkway.

“Holy shit.” He breathed, taking in the sight of the lily pads floating on the surface. “Those lily pads are huge!” He exclaimed, clutching the map in his palm as he pointed towards the ones he was referring to. You giggled at his childlike expression, finding it incredibly endearing as you approached the water.

“Do you ever wonder if in another life, we’re two frogs living on lily pads like that?” You asked, posing the ridiculous rhetorical question without thinking twice.

“For sure.” He hummed, gazing out at the still water with greenery sprouting from the surface. “We would have the cutest lily pad ever.” He corrected, making your cheeks turn crimson.

“All the other frogs would be so jealous of us.” You added, noting the reflection of the dome in the water.

“Yeah, cause I’d have the prettiest frog girlfriend.” He said as a matter-of-fact, neither of you paying any mind to the title he graciously placed upon you, even if the intent was in a joking manner. You were too high on life to even consider bursting the bubble, so you enjoyed it for a moment, letting yourself feel the fleeting moment of joy that came with being his.

After a few moments of wandering around, you moved onto the next sight on the list, navigating your way to daffodil hill. As you approached the plot of land, the breath was stolen from your lungs. Thousands of yellow and white flowers lined the ground, busy bees floating around the brightly coloured petals to scavenge the pollen from them. Scattered around, there were a few large trees with pink blossoms lining the branches. The sight was breathtaking, much like everything else you had experienced thus far.

“Danny,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder at him as you guided him through. “This is beautiful.”

“I know.” He nodded, but he wasn’t looking at the plethora of flowers tickling the grass. “Wait, I want a picture.” He said, pulling his phone from his pocket and motioning for you to pose. You stood before the field of flowers, the brightest smile stuck on your lips as you raised your arms above your head. He laughed at your expression, barely able to understand the flurry of emotion taking over his mind as he snapped the photograph. Before he joined you by your side, he set the picture as his screensaver, knowing it was the most precious thing his phone camera ever witnessed.

The lilac collection was just as stunning as the daffodils, which was almost unbelievable to you. You couldn’t believe how much beauty the world held, especially after spending all of your time in the shittiest neighborhood around. It was so easy to think that all of the world was gray and miserable, that the thick cloud of misery that surrounded you at home would follow you no matter where you went, but the longer you walked through the garden with him by your side, the harder it was to believe it.

You looped through the large patch of forest in the middle of the garden, taking your time to meander through the thickets and enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by nature. Living in New York was good, but it made you miss the connection you once had to the mountains and river-eroded canyons. The city was great, but it wasn’t what you hoped it to be, and being stuck in such a beautiful place made you realize that the concrete jungle was not what you wanted after all.

It was hard to place the feeling of need, because it was pulling you in all different directions. It wasn’t tied to a single place or thing, but it all revolved around the same theme; you craved feeling free, to be limitless and without bounds. You came to New York in hopes of finding that, but theathered yourself with another, tighter chain to a life equally as miserable as the last. Until Danny walked into your life, you convinced yourself that you were happy with struggle and that you still had your life in the palm of your hands. Now that he was beside you, showing you a more beautiful, brighter side of things, you wondered if life really had to go back to the way it was before you met him, or if you could continue feeling this way when he decided to leave.

Maybe the feeling of being free had nothing to do with the sights you were seeing, and everything to do with the person you were sharing them with.

You wanted to believe that you weren’t attached to Danny, but as you walked through the forest with your fingers intertwined with his, it was hard to picture life without him by your side. It wasn’t a dependency, not an addiction like you were so used to feeling, but rather a desire and a willingness to be loved. It was a gift, getting to spend your days with him, and it gave you a break from the horrible things you’d grown so used to. It was teaching you that you were capable of being loved, rather than forced to dish it out and never have it be reciprocated.

It made you excited to see tomorrow, rather than staying stagnant in the past while you waited for the next bad thing to happen.

You knew you couldn’t hold on to him, that you had to utilize all he was teaching you and find it in other places, but it was hard. Before him, you didn’t believe good things could happen to you, and the idea of trying to find them without being able to share it with him killed you, but the end of summer would come, and you would be left facing that exact issue whether you wanted to or not.

You had to grieve him before he was gone, and it was incredibly difficult when all you wanted to do was open your heart and your soul to him.

You had to convince yourself his love was meant to fade, that he was a beacon of light only meant to touch your life so you could pick yourself up off the ground. You needed to understand that the two of you weren’t meant for forever, but you could love each other enough to make the few months you had together last a lifetime. It was the only way to survive his absence when it inevitably came, but it was devastating to imagine, especially when he was right beside you and loving you like nobody ever had before.

You made your way through the perennial garden, taking your time to admire the beauty of it all. The greenery was a nice change from the abundance of flowers you’d seen moments before. The shrubs and trees were all different coloured, some burnt oranges and some deep emerald green. There were patches of purples and jades, all forming together to create one picturesque scene.

The rose garden nearly brought you to your knees, the rainbow of colors lining different bushes and the scent of the floral garden invading your senses. You approached a bush of ruby red roses, letting your fingers ever so gently glide over the satin petals.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” You said, reiterating the same sentiment as earlier. You were trying to wrap your mind around the whole thing, floored that he cared about you enough to grant you such a special memory. “Roses are my favorite, I think. Kind of a cop out answer, but it’s true.”

“Your favorite, huh?” Danny hummed, admiring you as you admired the sight before you. “I’ll have to remember that.” Your stomach filled with butterflies at his words, your head snapping upwards and your gaze catching his own.

“You don’t…” you trailed off, shaking your head slightly. You didn’t want him to feel like he had to get you flowers, because it simply wasn’t true. You lived twenty three years without ever receiving them, and you would survive another twenty three without them. You feared if he did, you would never be able to let him go.

“But I will.” He assured you, not willing to take any arguments on the matter. “What color is your favorite?” He asked, stepping closer to you as he placed a hand on your hip. Your eyes scanned the bushes, finding it difficult to choose when all of them were so stunning. That, and it was difficult to think of anything with his touch burning into your skin.

“The pink ones, I think. The really light ones.”

“Mhm?” He hummed, but his eyes weren’t looking at the flowers. They were settled on you, watching you as you came to a decision.

“Yeah, definitely those.” You breathed, turning your head to look at him. Your nose brushed his, and your arms automatically wrapped around his neck.

“Good to know.” He smiled, slipping his arm around your waist as he leaned toward and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. He dipped you backwards ever so slightly, and you pulled him forwards so you didn’t lose contact with him.

When he pulled away your head was spinning and your lungs were burning for air. You needed him more than you ever thought was humanly possible, and you never wanted him to stop holding you like he was in that moment. The chirp of birds overhead made the scene all the more ethereal, and you started to wonder if you were still sleeping, caught up in the perfection of a dream.

“One last stop, Utah. You ready?”

“Yeah.” You whispered, nodding ever so slightly. His face was still close to your own, the taste of his lips on your skin and tempting you further. You leaned toward him again, unable to resist the urge as you pressed a softer, more delicate kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.” You smiled, not straying too far as you turned around and led the way to the meadow.

The last sight was just as awe inspiring as the last ones, and when you reached the end of the path, you felt a sinking disappointment fill your heart. You wished you could stay there with him forever, frolicking amongst the flowers and covered under the shade of the trees. As if he was feeling the same way, he slowed his pace to draw out the last few minutes you had there together.

“Don’t wanna go home.” You mumbled under your breath, taking steps in time with his own.

“We can come back.” He assured you, giving your hand a slight squeeze as you neared the building you entered through. “We can go wherever you want, Utah.”

“Is that a promise?” You smiled, focused only on him despite the swarming crowd of people around you.

“It’s a fact.” He corrected, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you want, Y/N. Wherever you want. You just have to say the word.”

There was one word in mind, but you thought it was a bit too heavy to inflict upon him so early, especially knowing how the two of you would end.

“How about dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.” He grinned, but you couldn’t help but notice a slight disappointment in his eye.

You didn’t want to think too much about it, but you wondered if it was the same disappointment you had bargained with so many times before, disappointed because he couldn’t truly have the one thing he so desperately wanted.

May 13th, 2022 - 1:17 AM

“Hey, beautiful.” Danny smiled, sliding into a booth and greeting you as you walked towards him. Sam was close behind him, taking post across the table from his counterpart.

“Fancy meetin’ you here.” You grinned, motioning for him to scoot over so that you could sit beside him. When your ass touched the bench, he snaked an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “Grabbing something to eat tonight, or just here to bother me?”

“We’re actually here to eat for once.” Sam replied, a tone of surprise even in his voice. “Little late night snack while we pound out some more songs.”

“I see.” You hummed, a smile still lingering on your lips. “Well, if that’s the case, what could I get for the musical prodigies to help them out?”

“Veggie burger.” Sam replied, earning a kick from Daniel under the table. “Please, Utah. Would be greatly appreciated.” He added quickly, wincing at the lingering pain in his shin. You swallowed back a giggle, finding Danny’s protective nature endearing.

“What about you, sweetness?” You asked, turning to the boy beside you. He was in a long sleeve shirt, his jeans worn and form fitting. His hair was falling gently over his shoulders, and you noticed the tiredness in his face.

“Whatever you think, baby.” He said, casting a lingering glance your way. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to swipe your thumb over his cheek until the gentle tickle lulled him to sleep, and you wanted to hold him until he woke on his own, well rested and ready for the day. Instead, you gave him a soft smile, telling him you sympathized with his exhaustion because you were feeling it too, knowing loving him so openly with Vincent in the next room would end in a disaster.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving his knee a gentle squeeze under the table as you made a move to stand.

“Wait.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh to stop you from moving any further. He checked over your shoulder, looking to see if anyone was watching, and when he noticed the coast was clear, he placed a quick peck on your lips. Your stomach twisted with butterflies, your face turning red and your heart speeding.

Damn him and his ability to turn your whole world upside down.

“I’ll be right back.” You promised, sliding from the booth and quickly scurrying away to the kitchen. You pushed through the swinging half door, finding Dylan and Vincent standing by the open door in the back, the smell of cigarette smoke with a skunky undertone flowing in. “Hey,” you caught their attention, your voice timid as you feared Vincent’s volatility. He hadn’t been as bad as of recent, but you could tell there was tension constantly lingering between the two of you.

Vincent looked back over his shoulder, his eyes softening for a brief second at the sight of you, then reverting back to a stony expression. Dylan slowly turned, his eyes landing on you as a goofy smile crossed his lips.

“Want a hit?” He asked, raising his hand to flash the spliff in your direction.

“Yes,” You giggled, stepping towards the two. “But there’s an order, too.” You grabbed the expertly rolled joint from his hand, letting him know that play was over and work was beginning.

“What is it?” He traded places with you, stepping back towards the smoky grill.

“Regular and a veggie platter, please.” You smiled.

“Anything for you, doll.” He said, spraying the top of the stone with the heavily diluted cleaning solution and scraping off any debris. He let the steam flow as he stepped into the freezer in search of the premade burger patties, leaving you and Vincent by yourselves for a moment.

There was an awkwardness between you that you’d never quite felt before, like being so close to him was wrong, like he was upset just by your presence. You didn’t know what to say, instead raising the joint to your lips and inhaling, hoping he would start off the conversation.

“Your boyfriend here with his boyfriend?” He asked, staring out at the blackened sky as he awaited a response. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the night. You rested your head on the doorframe, wondering how you got yourself in such a situation.

“No boyfriends to talk about.” You replied, answering both of his quips with little effort. At that, his eyes flickered to you, almost hopeful as he listened to the words.

“What, you givin’ him the same run around you gave me?” He muttered, reaching for the joint clasped between your fingers.

“Can you cut the shit, Vin?” You scoffed, reluctantly handing it to him. You expected him to explode, to storm away at the thought of being called out for his ridiculous behavior, but he did neither; instead, he leaned back against the door, watching you carefully as he waited for you to continue.

‘Wow, okay.’ You thought to yourself, shocked at his lack of fight.

“I just want… I want you to talk to me, actually have a conversation instead of backhanded comments and insults, please.” He considered your comment carefully, and after an extended bout of silence, he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right.” What? “I’m sorry, doll.” Who the fuck was standing beside you, and what the hell did they do with Vincent? “If you wanna talk, talk.” You waited, stunned at his response and half expecting Dylan to jump out with a camera like they were playing a joke on you.

“I didn’t give you a run-around.” You muttered, snagging the spliff from his hand when he wasn’t paying attention. You gave him a small smile, one that was surprisingly returned. “I gave you a choice, and you didn’t pick me, Vin.”

“You didn’t give me enough time.” He stressed the point, wanting you to see it from his perspective. Unfortunately, you had given him more time than he deserved, even if he didn’t feel the same way.

“I gave you lots of time, honey.” You whispered. “Eighteen months, to be exact.” He was silent, nodding along as you spoke. You could see his cheeks turn red, but he didn’t react with anger. Instead, he looked up at you with sad eyes, swallowing back the million things he wanted to say.

“It’s just hard, you know? I’m so used to waking up next to you, to having you around all the time, and now you don’t even come to the Pony with us after work. Went from all to nothin’ in a day, it seems, and it hurts. I want to be better for you, doll. I’m trying real hard, but you have to cut me some slack, give me some time to show you how good I can be for you. You can’t see it if you’re spending all your time with Mr. Country Club.” He said, keeping a steady head and a calm voice as he spoke. He was terrified you would be willing to see it once he did clean himself, because you would be long past in love with someone else. Your stomach twisted with uncertainty, fearful you had judged Vincent too harshly. He was standing before you, completely calm as he explained how he felt.

He was trying, but it would never be enough.

“I can’t be around ‘till you’re better, Vin. It’s too hard for me. I’m not sober enough to be around all of it, and I’m sorry if it came off worse than I intended it to.” You were being nicer than you needed to be in hopes of sparing his feelings, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You were giving him hope for something that would never happen, but you were afraid if you told the truth, he would fly off the handle.

He gave a bleak nod, watching as you took a few puffs from the joint before stealing it back. “So what? Are you two together, or just fuckin’?” He asked, unable to bite his tongue and desperate for an answer.

“Not together, no.” You shook your head, giving him that much truth at least. “He’s only here for the summer. He’ll leave and I’ll still be here, so no point in being together.”

“So just fuckin’ then?” He asked, a smirk on his lips despite the pain in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, giving him a gentle shove. For the briefest moment, things felt okay again, like you two were actually friends and not a mess of high emotion and sexual tension that acted like friends.

“Don’t break your own heart, Vin.” You gave a sad smile, telling him to drop it. He flicked the cherry from the roach and pulled out his tin cigarette case, placing the small bit of weed left inside.

“I don’t have to; you do that for me, sweetness.” He said, placing a lingering touch on your arm as he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

You didn’t understand the wave of sadness washing over you, knowing that you truly didn’t want to be with Vincent, but heartbroken for the mess of a man who stood before you, trying more than he ever had. You tried not to let the sympathy change your opinion, but even so, you felt your heartstrings tug in a direction you didn’t appreciate. Instead of lingering on it, you rushed back to the front of the diner to join Daniel and Sam, begging yourself to understand the implications of letting Vincent wiggle his way into your heart.

𓇢𓆸

May 13th, 2022 - 3:42 AM

“Alright, boys. The front is clean, the floors are mopped, and the tips are counted.” You said, keeping an eye on the front door to watch for the morning staff.

“How much did we make, dollface?” Dylan asked, leaning on the serving window separating the kitchen and the front of the diner. You filled your reusable coffee cup from earlier in the day with a little bit of orange soda, sipping away at it as you passed Dylan’s money to him. “Gross.” He turned up his nose at the bright, artificial orange drink you were enjoying.

“S’good.” You shrugged, knowing anything was good when it was free.

“So, how much is it?” Dylan asked, looking at the bills and coins sat before him.

“Count it.” You said, untying your apron and slipping it over your head.

“You know I’m no good at that stuff.” Dylan laughed, the second joint taking its toll on him the more tired he became. His eyes were red, the lids drooping as he tried his best to focus on your face.

“How are you going to get better if you never try?” You urged, knowing he definitely could count it, but he was much too lazy.

“You got me, sweetheart.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“91.20.” You gave in, giggling as he let out a breath of relief.

“Each?” He raised an eyebrow, surprised that so many people had left a tip. “Must be ‘cause of your little boy-toy and his friend.” You cringed at the sound of his words, shaking your head slightly as he began to regret the nickname he used.

“Never say that again.”

“Yup, never again.” He agreed, sliding the bills from the ledge and into the pocket of his jeans. “You know, I really gotta get a wallet.” He pondered aloud, hearing the change clatter against his leg as he pushed himself upright.

“Would probably make your life easier, yeah.” You smiled, letting your eyes trail over his tired face. Dylan was undoubtedly one of the most attractive boys you’d ever laid eyes on, but the temptation was never really there for you. Perhaps it was because you were tied up with Vincent, or maybe because he made a better friend than you thought he would a lover. No matter, you couldn’t help but admire him every now again, human urge taking over and common sense fleeing you.

“Just seems stupid,” he explained further, the deep tone of his slow voice echoing through the air. You raised an eyebrow at him, begging him to continue. “Paying money for something to hold your money. What a waste.” At that, a powerful laugh shook your shoulders and made the muscles of your stomach ache. It took you a few seconds to calm yourself, the tiredness taking its toll and causing everything to seem funnier than it truly was.

“I love you, Dyl.” You said, letting out a long breath as you wiped a tear from your eye.

“Love you too, baby.” He grinned, proud of the laugh he had pried from you without even trying. At that, the swinging side door opened and Vincent came barreling out from the kitchen, catching both of you off guard as he walked towards you.

“You okay, honey?” You asked, noticing his irate expression.

“Yeah, fan-fuckin’-tastic.” He grumbled, grabbing a disposable coffee cup and filling it with sprite from the fountain. You noticed a slight tremble in his hand as he reached to press the button, twisting your stomach with anxiety.

“You sure? You’re sweating.” You stepped towards him, never able to rid yourself of the compassion you held for him. You raised a hand to his forehead, wondering if he was coming down with a bug. At the feeling of your hand on his skin, he jerked his head away, shooting you daggers with his eyes as he pulled the cup from the soda machine.

“Said I’m fine.” He snapped, the vein in his forehead popping out as he spoke. You shied away, recoiling back at the harsh words.

“Right, okay.” You whispered, cowering under his stare, wondering what happened in the two hours between this conversation and the last. “Sorry, Vin.”

“These mine?” He completely disregarded your timid tone, failing to apologize or acknowledge his own wrongdoings as he pointed at the pile of tips on the counter.

“Yeah.” You nodded, feeling your skin begin to tingle with numbness, the same feeling you always got when he turned volatile towards you. You watched as he reached forward, his trembling hands separating the bills on the counter so he could tally it in his head. You swallowed hard, knowing you should leave it be, but unable to ignore your concerns about him.

Your eyes flickered to Dylan, who was disengaged with the situation, knowing just as well as you how insufferable Vincent was when he was angry. You turned back to Vincent, watching as he counted the change, muttering curses under his breath as he lost count. Your eyes trailed upwards, wanting to catch sight of his face to see if you could decipher what kind of anger he was stuck in, but your eyes got caught on something before you could.

You froze, your skin prickling with a plethora of different emotions as your gaze settled on the point in which his forearm met his bicep. More specifically, a cluster of red dots, irritated and bruised. Your stomach twisted with nausea, your head pounding as a flurry of questions stormed your mind. Without thinking twice, you reached forward and grabbed his wrist, forcefully pulling his arm towards you for a better look.

“The fuck is your problem!?” Vincent shouted, trying to pull away from your grip. Something inhuman took over as you held his wrist in your hand, your fingers locked tightly to hold him in place.

“My problem?” You fumed, looking up at his face. “What the hell is your problem, Vincent? Are these fucking track marks?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you care, doll. We all know that you don’t give a shit about me.” He seethed, giving another rough yank of his arm.

“Care?” You echoed his words, your eyes lethal as you stared a hole into him. “Vincent, I have given everything for you. You’ve nearly cost me my job, my place to live, and my sobriety. Caring about you is all I know how to do, even when it fuckin’ ruins me.”

“There it is, whining like a little bitch again. Was wondering how long the peace n’ fuckin’ quiet would last.” He growled, not backing down from your hostile embrace. “Nobody asked you to do it, sweetheart. You just get off on sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. We don’t need you, and we never have. Why don’t you run back to Utah and find someone else to bitch at, ‘cause I’m gettin’ fuckin’ sick of hearing it.”

You dropped his arm, his words equal to a stab in the stomach. His skin was burning, the heat lingering on your hand even after you cut contact. You knew his volatility was because he was suffering through the violence of withdrawal, but you held little sympathy for the fact, especially after every other injustice he had committed against you. He was suffering, but it did not excuse his mistakes, nor did it make the pain that stemmed from his words hurt any less. He may be sick, being eaten alive by a disease you knew to be the deadliest of all, but it didn’t change the fact he lied. He wasn’t fucking trying at all, and he only said it to gain a sympathy card from you.

Just like always, the only person he ever cared about was himself.

You weren’t sure why it stung so badly, but the damage was done, and you were sickened at the thought of the person who stood before you. He was someone you thought you loved, who you gave everything for, someone who pulled you along by a string but never gave anything in return. You were having a hard time feeling any remorse for what you did to hurt him, because he seemed to make hurting you into his life’s purpose.

“Fine, Vin. I’m done. If that’s what you want to hear, I’ll say it: I��m fucking done.” You felt tears rush your eyes, your chest burning with indignation as you swallowed back his harsh words. “Keep ruining your life, but don’t fuckin’ call me to fix it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay.” He cackled, mocking you as if your breaking point was humorous to him. It was no more than salt in an already lethal wound. “We both know you’ll come whenever I call, no matter who’s in your bed. You know what you fuckin’ deserve, doll, and you’re looking at it. Keep actin’ high and mighty like you aren’t a junkhead too, but we all know it, and you’ll come crawlin’ back to me sooner or later.”

“Fuck you, Vincent.” You spat, feeling the tears fall onto your cheeks. He was so good at ruining you, and even if you believed you’d built yourself back up, it only took him a moment to tear it all down again. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“Quit with the pity party, sunshine. You’re no better. Go cry to your fuckin’ boyfriend—maybe he’ll actually give a shit.” He snatched his money from the table, shoving it in his pocket as he turned on his heel and stormed out the front of the building. You bit back a sob as the door of the diner slammed shut, and listened as his car door did the same. In an instant, he was backing out of his parking space, and not long after he disappeared down the street.

“Come on, doll. You know he doesn’t mean that.” Dylan whispered, joining you in the dining room and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He reached to your face with his other hand, swiping your cheeks clean with the back of his hand. “He’s just in a rough spot right now.”

“God, stop defending him!” You exploded, sickened at the thought of Dylan excusing Vincent’s horrific behavior. It wasn’t Dylan’s fault, but in the moment you were so angry with Vincent that it was bleeding into every aspect of your life. After hearing him say so many horrific things, it hurt to think Dylan was so forgiving of his actions.

“I’m not defending anyone, angel.” Dylan corrected. “What he said was awful, and it’s not true, and you know m’gonna give him shit for it, later.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You let out a shaky sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes to satiate the tears irritating them. The coolness of your skin felt good against your swollen face, the dreaded consequence every time you dared to shed a tear. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be mad at you. I just get so frustrated. He tells me he’s trying to be better, but then he goes and does shit like this! Makes me feel like he doesn’t care at all, like he doesn’t actually want to try.”

“He cares, sunshine, and he wants to be better. Just don't know how.” Dylan shrugged, pulling you into his side a little further. “This is all he’s ever known, all he ever thought he needed, ‘till you came along.” Both you let the words hang heavy in the air, not sure how to continue on from there. “Vin’s always been the heartbreaker, and he doesn’t know how to handle it now that the tables’ turned on him. He loved ya, doll. Still does.”

“If he loved me, why the hell did he let us get here? Why is he so mean, all of the time? Always trying to break me down, to hurt me so I feel stuck with him. I loved him as he was—I just needed him to get sober.”

“That’s like leading a horse to water and telling it not to drink.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he thought of the sad analogy. “Vinny’ll always be this way. Maybe not this fucked up, but it’ll always be a part of him. Got it from his folks n’ they got it from theirs. Do you want to be with him?”

“I did. M’not so sure anymore.” You mumbled, closing your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder. He smelled like cheap cologne and cigarettes, a comforting smell that had become your favorite part of the day. “Even if he changed tomorrow, I don’t think it would take away all the bad he’s already done.”

“Mr. Country Club have anything to do with that?”

“Stop calling him that.” You laughed, lightly jabbing your elbow into his stomach. Dylan faltered slightly at the action, but his own laugh filled the air not long after. “I don’t know… maybe he does. We’re not in love or anything, and he’s leaving at the end of the summer, but it made me realize I wanted more, I guess. More than Vin, more than the life I’ve built for myself here.”

“Then chase it, sweetheart. If he feels the same, don’t stick around for us. You gotta be happy. You gotta take care of you.” Dylan said, more serious than ever before. “You waste your time and energy keeping us alive, then you wonder why you can’t get ahead. We’d be lost without you, but I’m scared we’ll lose you if you stay, too.”

“It’s just a lot, you know? I moved here to make something of myself, and I did the opposite. Now I’m stuck here, and I’m terrified of taking another leap of faith. What if the next one turns out worse? Least I know the shit this life has to give me.” You explained, staring out into the parking lot as you noticed the morning workers begin to pull in. “It’s all scary, Dyl.”

“Sure it is, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and I know you could make it anywhere in the world. If he asks you to go with him, go. I know you worry about us, but you’ve been searching for a ticket out, baby.” He explained. “If this guy really is all that, it’s worth chasing. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“How could I leave you, though? How could I leave Vin, or John. Hell, I’d even miss Liam.”

“That gangly fuck?” Dylan laughed, looking down at you. “Bet there’s a million guys just like him running NA meetings all over the states.”

“It’s too early to tell. I’ll just have to see it through, decide when I get there. Never been a person to plan anything. Chaos is the only thing that makes sense to me.” You frowned, saddened by the truth behind the statement.

“You can make anything make sense if you try, angel.” Dylan gave your arm a squeeze, making sure you understood what he meant. “As for Vin, he’ll tire himself out. I’ve seen him go through this before, and he always pulls himself out of it. You just have to make up your mind, okay? If you don’t wanna be with him, he’s gotta know that he’s never got a chance. If not, you’re both hurting for no reason.”

“It’s hard because I always want to be with him, even if I know I can’t be, or I shouldn’t be.” You explained. “I just want him to try, to show me that he wants me and he means it when he says it.”

“He means it, Y/N.” Dylan assured you. “Drugs aside, he loves you. He might not know how to show it, but he sure as hell feels it for you. I’ve never seen him so pussywhipped for anyone—I knew from the very beginning it had to be more than just some tail. Being caught up on girls was never his thing… ‘cept when that bitch at the Pony gave him the clap. That was for a different reason, though.”

At that, the two of you found yourselves in a fit of giggles.

“Thanks, Dylan. I know it’s always been you two against the world. I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to get between that.” You whispered, grateful for his presence but remorseful for taking him away from Vincent.

“You kidding, doll? You’ll always be my favorite girl, even if you don’t put out for me.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he was joking so you let it slide. “You’re the only name I got saved in my phone, after all.” He reminded you, giving you a gentle pat on the back as the door swung open and the morning crew piled in. “Get home and get some sleep, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to tell him he’s a fuckin’ idiot.” He stepped away from the counter, nodding at the morning staff as they passed by.

“See you tomorrow, Dyl.” You breathed, refilling your cup with soda as you watched him walk towards the door. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He said, backing into the push-door and stepping into the early morning air. You watched as he disappeared into the parking lot, the peek of sunshine on the horizon sending his shadow over the gravel below, growing larger as he approached his car.

“You okay, Y/N?” Betty, an older waitress approached you as she tied her apron around her back. You broke yourself from your thoughts, swiping away the lingering tears under your eyes as you gave her a nod.

“Yeah, f’course.” You assured her, pushing yourself off the counter. “You have a good shift, now. I’ll see you this afternoon.” You offered her a smile, shoving your tips in your pocket as you grabbed your bag from the counter. You felt bad for avoiding her, but talking about Vincent was not something you were keen on doing with someone who would never understand. For some reason, you still felt the need to defend his name, even when he did all he could to trash yours.

You sent a wave over your shoulder, sickened at the memory of the words spat in your direction, but forcing your legs to carry you outside and continue on despite wanting to lie down and give up. The fresh air felt nice, but the vibrations of your phone in your back pocket did not. You fished it out, glancing at the screen to see who was calling. Your lips dipped down into a frown, seeing Danny’s name scrawled across the screen but not having the heart to answer. Instead, you let it ring to voicemail as you walked down the street towards your apartment, pulling a cigarette from behind your ear and lighting it with an almost dead lighter in your pocket. After a few moments, you drafted up a reply for Daniel, apologizing for not answering and letting him know you were much too tired to talk tonight.

You would send it when you got home, when you had peace and quiet so you could truly suffer through and process the wrath of your raging heartbreak. You felt guilty for brushing him off, but you couldn’t let him see you like this over a boy you promised you were well and done with. Danny didn’t deserve silence, especially not after the plethora of goodness he’d granted in your life, but that’s all you could afford to give him in the moment. You thought it was for the best, unwilling to subject him to the pain that you were constantly suffering from, unable to cause a change in the beauty of your relationship with the darkness Vincent carried around with him. Instead, you had a date with the bathroom floor and possibly even a cold shower (if the pipes were willing to grant you water flow, that is), which was the least appealing idea when you knew the comfort of Danny’s arms.

Once again, without even knowing, Vincent managed to wiggle his way through the boundaries you’d set in place, ruining every good thing you’d been working so hard at building up.

Once again, you were letting Vincent ruin your life. Instead of acting to change it, you would go back tomorrow and try to make amends for something that was never your fault to begin with.

This time, your heart was not the only one at stake, and the universe was begging you to realize it before it was too late.

Taglist: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco @aintthatapity @dont-go-home-without-me

[bon-is-gone]

https://www.tumblr.com/bon-is-gone/748757237890170880/fluttershy-so-yeah-i-made-mlp-infection-au?source=share

*perks up* found this trend a while ago and I loved seeing mlp infection aus...idk why but I think mlp horrors are the best horrors! Like human horrors make me feel uncomfortable but replace the humans with colorful ponies and I wanna see it! (My random guess is, not knowing if I'm right or not, because I'm scared of it being transmitted to humans?) Anyway, now I'm curious about it!

What are the stages? How did it begin? You planning to make a bunch of art for it? Write a story via comic or written or as I've seen some do...videos? Or just draw a bunch of ponies infected? Sorry if I'm pushy or nosey...just fluttershy went from 0-100 so fast in your pics of her and looked so good...she looked so cute before infection and terrifying after! You have a great artstyle! I just had to learn if this was a one hit-thing or if it will bloom into a story or something!

AGDHAGDHSGDHAGSHGA I STILL CANT GET USED TO THE FACT THAT PEOPLE LIKE MY STUFF AND IVE BEEN HERE FOR A YEAR NOW HDGAJGXISHDJ THANKYOUTHANKYOYTAHNKYOUTHANKYOU-

Ah yes, my favorite subject

Dying ponies with rabies 😌

Imma try and answer all the questions amigo, however I'm writing this in 2 in the morning with a sh*t ton of adrenaline from the fact that you asked (I'm gonna have a heart attack oh lord) so do forgive me if I missed one-

Oh ehem-

Stages

So the sickness which I took for this au is Rabies! Which I think a lot if you might know what it is. Ofcourse, this is a more messed up type of rabbies. There's only 3 stages since the person transforms quickly(in a 1 day). 1st stage: after the pony gets bit by a subject with rabbies they start feeling weak, tired and nauseous. They also all of a sudden get scared of water 2nd stage: the ponies body starts to hurt, usually specific body parts feel the most pain (for example with fluttershy its her front hooves), which then start to get longer, stretching. 3rd stage the ponies body becomes disfigured, they become extremely aggressive and blood-thirsty, foam will start pouring out of their mouth and completely forget who they were before.

How did it begin?

Some chemist pony probably tried to find a cure for different types of sickness in the mlp world but instead made a potion for the missed up rabbies. He tested on some animals and one of them escaped. The animal got to fluttershy(because she's always with animals so she shall be the first victim) and bit her. The infection would continue on with twilight who wanted to go check up on her but instead got attacked.

You planning to make a bunch of art for it?

Oh buddy. OH BUDDY- I already nade some sketches of how twilight and Pinkie pie are before and after getting infected. I do want to draw some background ponies with those meters (you know those ones with like "hunger: 50%" or something) specifically this guy

SILVER ZOOM 😎 I found him whilst browsing the mlp wiki for background ponies and omg I LOVE HIS DESIGN AJGDHSHDHWHDHDH

Also this fella

Crystal earth gives me "I FELL INLOVE WITH AN EMO GIRL" vibes and I'm DIGGING IT

Write or make a story/comic/video? Or just draw a bunch of ponies infected?

I'm not a writer so hard pass on the story. Comic would LOVE to do that, however I'm not used to drawing ponies like, at all, So it takes me a really long time to get the look right(especially with all the different angles of the head, yikes). Now, the video? Hell f*cking yeah. I planned on making a video 100% doing it like people do on tiktok (or in my case youtube because I am not going to that wretched place, no offense to anyone who goes there) but never made it since I got sidetracked with other stuff lmao. So currently I will stick to just solely making art, but I will make a video about it no doubt. Complete story? Probably not.

Again thank you so much for asking! It makes me super happy when people ask me about my stuff or just opinions on anything. (I did not get held enough as a child God damn-) and no worries about being pushy! (You weren't honestly)

This was Bon, signing out

[okthatsgreat]

that reblog about asking random questions about fics..... hmmmm. ive been curious for a while now - what's your thought process behind opddmh? any particular theme you've had fun exploring, or a potential overarching idea? i love hearing people explain the intricacies of their writing processes

ohhhhh my god oh my god. you have unleashed something within me ohhhhh my god. something cringe is awakening something very cringe is happening to me right now

referring to this post, talking about this fic :]

(im gonna put all of this under read more for the people that dont want to read this LMAO)

OKAY. TIME TO GET SO STUPID. IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LIKE THIS

at the core of this fic is trauma-- it's a story about emerging from indescribable pain and horror, only to walk into a world that treats you as a spectacle and your pain as entertainment. so much of opddmh's themes come from trauma, as every character's pov deals with it in distinct ways, none of which are particularly healthy LMAO. going into each characters pov, my thought process is always concerning how they would react to the situation in front of them, but always keeping that trauma over them as another deciding (often overpowering) factor. makoto at his core is still a caring man, but he has been so deprived by the company that has kept him there for so long that his natural response to unpleasant emotions or thoughts is to bury it in sake of putting on a show. mikan has always been very timid and regretful, but now many of her actions are sincerely doubted as being selfish or secretly evil, a temperament only aggravated by her status as blackened. akane's desire to "be strong" has only worsened to an extreme degree, as her first instinct is to drop anybody that could possibly remind her of weakness or the killing game.

these are killing game participants who are no longer the children they were when all of this started, people who did not sign up for this but have to keep going anyways-- and i LOVE exploring the implication of that postgame it is like a drug to me. theyve gone through unimaginable horror, most of them dont have families they can return to, and everybody in the world knows them as a beloved tv character. the only way for them to survive is to adapt, a strategy that not all of them have mastered. makoto, whose title as ultimate hope has been watered down sooooo so much, is the POSTER child (literally) for adapting, while characters like akane have still been significantly silenced by danganronpa but are unable to adapt entirely. it was important to me that i had povs which were different yet cohesive, and were able to convey the range of survival that these older participants have :] and this includes the secret fifth pov that hasnt been introduced yet >:)

these are no longer people in the public's eyes as much as they are entertainers (which by the way, i love writing this aspect of postgame dr lololol the PERFORMANCE of it all). my friend lily made such a good comment about it at one point and i dont remember her exact words but it was something along the lines of "the audience doesn't want the performer, they want the performance" which is soo true of this universe in particular. so when i write these different people i like to keep in mind the person they are and they person they present themselves as. so many of the older participants are so jaded its insane

but then theres v3!! there are NEW kids here. trauma is so important as a theme when it comes to how these characters interact with each other, and ESPECIALLY how the older characters are able to see themselves in the younger ones. a lot of the character dynamics were chosen deliberately so that the v3 kids mirror the older participants!!!!!!!!!!!!! v3 hasn't been desensitised just yet, they haven't lost touch with their anger and sadness and fear like a lot of the older participants have. i find it important while writing to remember how NEW these kids are, especially when it comes to writing people like miu, who isn't ready to give in to danganronpa conformity just yet and is trying her hardest to be better (or at the very least, not the same miu iruma, ultimate inventor that everybody watched on their television screens). and then of course you have characters like angie and rantaro, who are DEEEEEEEEP in denial and unable to properly move out of that first stage of grief just yet lmao. they are fortunate(????) enough that the journey they go through is a lot more private than some of the other characters can say theirs were. a lot of the time i write about the newer v3 participants i make an effort to refer to them as young or as children/teens because they Are. theyre so Young and it definitely effects how they handle themselves !!!

so much of this fic is about trauma but so much of it is finding strength in others as well, even if its moving slowly towards it lol. it's important to me that there is hope in the fic, that even though it feels like they are very isolated at the moment they arent entirely alone. things get worse before they get better but they do get better and i wanted there to be peace in the relationships they build with each other

also fun fact this story was originally a one shot where miu jumps into makotos car they chat and then he drops her back where she came from lol! would have really cut this story short!

n e ways thank you anonymous i love you <3 so so sorry for being so serious about my own fic ghfdjhgsdjhgkfdjhgdksghfskjghdj </3

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Misty, chapter vi

chapter i | chapter ii | chapter iii | chapter iv | chapter v | chapter vi | chapter vii | chapter viii | chapter ix | chapter x

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit (whole thing)

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Snowman!Ezra x f!reader (monsterfucker au)

Tags: it’s basically monster fucking but with a snowman which could technically be classified as a monster i guess?, gothic horror kind of, sorrow, dementia, anxiety, dog murder, masturbation, Frankie thirst, pet murder, racism mention, huge age gap, implied possible sexual abuse of minor, spookiness, PiV sex with an actual snowman, possible hallucinations.

Chapter warnings in addition to the above mentioned: Hypothermia, Frankie yearning, the spookiness continues.

Summary: Escaping your empty apartment after having been dumped by your fiancé, you rent a cottage at Oakgrove House over Christmas to nurse your wounds. But strange things seem to happen at the estate, where an old woman wanders around in search of old friends long gone, and snowmen appear as if by themselves on the lawn…

Chapter word count: 2,426

A/N: The poem quoted in this chapter is The Garden by Ezra Pound. I noticed that the chapter links were a little out of sorts on the earlier posts + masterlist: sorry about that! I've fixed them now.

Tagging: @harriedandharassedsed @paulalikestuff @pazizz @lovesbiggerthanpride (let me know if you want in)

Your name, carefully called at first, then with rising alarm, and finally spoken with urgency, draws you out of sleep. Warm, rough palms cover your cheek, forehead, neck, before the itchy-soft wool of a heavy blanket is drawn over you.

You move slowly, sleep still threatening to pull you under. The first thing that you notice is that it's wet and cold around and on you. Your muscles seem frozen stiff and protest when you try to sit up, your eyelids are glued shut. With great difficulty, you raise your hand to your face and rub at your eyes.

"Talk to me," you hear a low voice next to you. "Are you okay?"

Forcing your eyes open, you see a blurry figure in front of you. Blinking until it takes shape and becomes clear, you find that it's Frankie. He's watching you closely, his features painted with concern and purpose.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," you croak, and he seems to relax a smidge. You become aware of the surroundings: you're in the bedroom, the window is open, letting in snow that then melts on the floor below it. You're naked under the blanket that Frankie covered you with, and you're shivering.

"What happened? The cottage is cold all through."

You don't know what to say to that as you wrap the blanket around you. Hoping to gain some heat, you lose yourself in Frankie's warm, brown eyes. He gets up from the bedside and closes the window, the melted snow splish-splashing under his boots.

"I'm calling an ambulance," he tells you, and those words breathe life in you.

"No!" The volume of your voice startles both of you. "No, I'm f-fine, I don't need the hospital, I j-just need a hot shower and warm clothes."

You cast your eyes down, now embarrassed about your nudity.

"I can't leave you like this," Frankie shakes his head.

"What are you even d-doing here?" you question him, realizing how inappropriate this is. Frankie looks at you like he's not sure what to make of your question.

"I was clearing snow when I saw that the front door was wide open, as was the upstairs bedroom window," he tells you. "It didn't seem right, so I checked it out."

He sits down on the bedside again, chocolate eyes pinning you to the wall.

"What were you doing?"

You're squirming mentally, even if your body is trembling too much for you to physically try to avoid his gaze.

"I must have sleepwalked."

He's not convinced, you can tell, but he helps you up and sends you into the shower.

Confused and disoriented, you stand under the hot spray of water and try to put your thoughts together, understand what is going on. The previous night is vividly remembered in your skin, between your legs, but faint and foggy in your mind. Every inch of you burns with the cold touch of the snowman, of Ezra, but your brain scrambles to reconstruct the unusual tryst. Unable to make any sense of it, you stand in the shower until the water turns cold and you yelp loudly.

Frankie's voice is immediately heard on the other side of the door.

"You okay in there?"

"I'm fine."

You step out and dry yourself before putting on the clothes you brought in with you. A towel turban on your head, you open the door and see Frankie outside. The chill outside the bathroom hits you in the face and makes you shiver immediately. Chills are blooming in your body and you suddenly feel like you're running a fever. Frankie gives you a sceptical look before gestures towards the door.

"I'm taking you to the house," he tells you. You look up at him, alarmed.

"No! It's Christmas, why the hell would I go there and be in their way?"

"I'm not leaving you alone here and I have a job to do and a family to get back to," he tells you a little tartly. There's something in his voice that suggests that he's used to giving as well as receiving brief, to-the-point commands. "Besides, it's going to be a few hours before the whole place is heated again, and you need to stay warm."

Your cheeks are bright red when you sullenly go downstairs with him, sock-wearing feet trying to avoid the wet spots on the stairs. You're starting to feel more awake and with that, less confused but increasingly unwell. Your head is pounding, your cheeks are flushed yet you're freezing. When you bend down to pull on your boots, up changes places with down and you almost fall over. Frankie has you immediately and steers you onto the little bench in the entry. Exhausted, you flop down as gracefully as you can.

"You should go to the hospital," he reminds you grimly, but you shake your head again. He helps you with your boots and offers you his hand when you stand up. Eventually, you're dressed and on your way to the main house.

Denise is the one opening the door and having been explained the situation, she immediately takes you in and has you wrapped in blankets on the couch in the main living-room, where a fire is roaring in the fireplace, and Christmas presents have been opened. Ripped pieces of wrapping paper lie scattered along with bows and strings around the perfectly dark green and fragrant tree, lit by tasteful light strings and decked with silver baubles. Homemade ornaments, clearly made by children, hang on the lower branches where probably the same children have been able to reach.

"It's a bit of a mess in here," Denise apologizes, "but we're just about to have breakfast so it'll be quiet. And it's the warmest room in the house."

“I’m fine, really,” you still maintain, but let yourself sink against the soft cushions. It’s nice to be looked after. Maybe this is what you wanted all along when your asshole ex left you: to be coddled and cared for but without the pity exhibited by everyone who knew you. These people know nothing.

You doze off but stay in the strange liminal space of wakeful dreaming. Your eyes rest on a series of portraits on the wall with the William Morris wallpaper. They are four, all of them depicting a person, two of them women and two of them men. The women bear a clear resemblance to Denise and her daughter Anna, whom you met during your walk the other day. You realize that it must be Olga and her mother. The other two are probably Olga’s father and brother, given the similarities between them. Your eyes narrow as you try to focus your gaze on Olga’s portrait. She looks young but you can’t guess on an age. Teenagers looked so old in the 1950’s, dressed as they were in the same fashion as their mothers, hair done in the same way. Anything from 15 to 22, given the childish air of naivety but heavy, weary eyes.

This is after the Ezra scandal, you realize. What secrets is she carrying behind those eyes that seem to be older than her years?

The door to the living-room opens, and Denise comes in, carrying a tray. She walks on soft feet but when she sees that you are awake, she comes up to the couch.

“Wasn’t sure you were awake. I hope we haven’t disturbed you.”

“Oh no, I haven’t heard anything,” you reassure her as you sit up and accept the tray. “Thank you so much, you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I hope you don’t mind tea? We’re a family of tea drinkers, and there’s nothing like some really strong, sweet tea when you’ve had a bit of a shock. But I can make some coffee too, if you prefer that.”

You shake your head. “Tea is perfect, thank you.”

There is toast and jam on a little vintage plate, and a couple of Christmas cookies, and Denise offers to bring you bacon and eggs.

“Wasn’t sure if you’re a vegetarian.”

“I’m not, but this is enough, thank you.”

You take a sip of the tea and although you don’t know much about different kinds of tea, you can tell this is a good, black one. The honey takes the edge of its astringency and makes you feel invigorated.

“It’s really good,” you assure Denise, who smiles a little.

“I’ll let you eat.” She walks up to the fireplace and puts another log on the fire. “Take your time, and have a nap after. Frankie is warming up the cabin and we’re going out as soon as we’ve eaten. You won’t be distubed.”

Once again you express your gratitude, and once again Denise tells you that it’s quite allright.

“You should be thanking Frankie, really,” she muses. “We’re so happy to have him. He works hard and is very detail-oriented. He immediately notices when something doesn’t seem right. If he hadn’t, who knows how this would’ve ended.”

She shrugs. “I guess it’s his training.”

“What training is that?” you ask, a little chill running down your spine at the thought of what could have happened.

“He was in the military,” Denise discloses. “Some kind of special ops, I think.”

“Really?” you gape at her. “He… doesn’t seem the type.”

“That’s what I thought,” the slightly older woman agrees. “But he retired, got married, had a baby. They live nearby, the kid’s a couple of years old now, I think. Really cute family. Always nice when somebody makes it, isn’t it?”

You don’t reply to that but cast your eyes down as you sip some more tea. A crash and a wail are heard from outside the door, and Denise sighs.

“Speaking of families… I have three kids, two of them are already here, they have five between them. My other daughter is on her way with her family, that’s four more kids. Yikes.”

“Big family,” you smile politely, unsure of your feelings about it.

“Yeah. Mom always wanted a big family but I guess it skips a generation. Or two. I’m an only child.”

“Is that her in that picture?” you ask, nodding to the wall of portraits. Denise nods.

“And her parents, and brother.”

“Did he have a big family?”

Something in Denise’s face changes, closes. You realize that you’ve overstepped.

“No,” she answers curtly. “He died young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was before my time. I have to go now, help with the children.”

With brisk steps, Denise leaves you to your breakfast. The chaotic sounds of family life spill in through the door as she opens it, but are muffled just as quickly as she closes it behind her. You close your fingers around the mug of tea, warming your hands as you listen to the sounds of children being ushered away through the halls of the big house. When the noises disappear somewhere further into the house or maybe outside of it, you eat the toast and finish the tea. Despite the caffeine, the tea makes you drowsy, so you put the tray away and slide back down under the blankets. Your eyes close before you’ve even settled.

You dream of a blooming garden in the height of summer. The fragrances of flowers fill the air, the sun is warm on your skin, the grass soft under your bare feet. You see a young woman sit in the shade of a vine-covered arch. Butterflies flutter lazily around her as she reads out loud from a book:

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall

She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,

 And she is dying piece-meal

of a sort of emotional anemia.

And round about there is a rabble

Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.

They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.

Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.

She would like some one to speak to her,

And is almost afraid that I

will commit that indiscretion.

When you come closer, you realize that she’s not alone: there is someone sitting on the other side of the arch. Instead of walking straight towards her, you instead veer to the right and circle around the perfect tableau.

On the other side of the arch sits Ezra, and he is looking straight at you.

Snow begins to fall as he rises and starts to walk towards you.

You jerk awake. Your mouth is dry and for a moment you’re completely disoriented, not knowing where you are or how you got there. The fire has died down and the lack of sunlight from the high windows renders the room gloomy despite the lit, cheerful Christmas tree.

“He came to you, didn’t he?”

Your heart gets caught in your throat and panic rises in you before you realize that it’s Olga’s voice you’re hearing. She sits in one of the armchairs across the coffee table, watching you intently. Slowly, you sit up, trying to find words.

“Ezra came to you,” Olga repeats matter-of-factly, like she knew it would happen and has made peace with it. “I knew he would.”

“How?” You want to know so many things, but figure this is a good start.

“Because he said he would.” The old woman is looking at you as if you were simple-minded. “He promised me he’d be back for Christmas. We would build a snowman together, just like we did that time, and we would fill the house with children.”

“What happened?” you breathe, as if afraid to break some kind of spell if you spoke with your normal volume. Olga lifts her chin and turns her gaze to the wall with the portraits. When you do the same, you find that all the portraits have changed: the parents have turned their faces away, young Olga’s eyes are filled with tears that glitter their way down her pale cheeks, and her brother’s features are distorted in hatred.

“He did.” Olga’s voice is but a whisper and there is something so tragic about it that it brings tears to your eyes. You raise your hands and wipe them, sniffle a little, and when you look at Olga again, she’s no longer in the armchair, but shuffling along the wide, old floorboards to the door. She leaves it open as she walks on, into the past or the present you don’t know, but after a moment, you get up from the couch, and follow her.

[gayspock]

ok im lbing this bc we're not gonna get more for a long time

ok initial thoughts: zombies by the cranberries sent me a little loopy. im sorry. its a heartbreaking song, its a heartbreaking scene. but playing those both together is the funniest fucking thing you could do ever. heavens

second thoughts: i know there was a lotof, like, backlash abt the last ep regarding the present day girlies "giving in to lottie so easily" so its funny to see them ppl owned so early. LOL. although this cant end well and i have already been spoiled and i will say i saw that coming sort of but thought "no they wouldnt do that... tht sucks" but anyways

THIRD thoughts and last time im gonna open a thought with that: literally i said all that, but i know last week ppl also complaine saying they didnt "explain the game well enough" which i thought was stupid bc if they sat there and did thatd be clunky and dumb and ruin the horror of it so now misty is just exposition dumping to lottie im like for gods sake. and in some ways i do kinda get what theyre trying to do with it (misty would be frank about it and clear and etc) but i still think its just a bit alrighhttt alrighttt to watch

this is making me feel sick...

SHAUNA BEING THE DESIGNATED BUTCHER TOO... heavens and a bit.

TH

NOT THE DESIGNATED T...

this is so fucking crazy

HER COVERING HER EYES. I AM SICK. YOU KNOW WHEN THE WET, BIG BROWN PUPPY DOG EYES ARE GONE THE WORLD IS DARK AND CRUEL

ok but seeing trav crying over havi like that . meanwhile shauna was fucking sobbing with jackies corpse holding it for months. everything in the world mental

UGHHH FUCKING WALTERRRRR

SORRY IVE MADE MY FEELINGS CLEAR. I DO NOT LIKE HIS FUNCTION AS A CHARACTER. I THINK MISTY'S ARC WOULD BE SO MUCH FUCKING STRONGER WITHOUT HIM. GET MORE CREATIVE. YOU DONT NEED HIM . and its like hes not bad hes fine but its so annoying that they give him more FUCKING ATTENTION THAN FUCKING NAT AT THIS POINT

plus her dynamic with nat is so much better

i love adult shauna scheming. always gets them into a bit of a pickle. classic!

COACH BEN COMING BACK TO STIUATIONS IS FUCKING UNFATHOMABLY F- NATALIE WHAT HAPPENED

I FIGURED OUT WHERE HAVI WAS HIDING

DOES ANYONE HEAR HIM

YOURE N

I FEEL SICK

his little gorgeous babygirl tear.

coach ben your gay ass needs to move fast before the second most homophobic fast food chain after chick fil a opens up in the canadian wilderness with a limited menu of #1 fucking d

FUCK OFF ELIJAH WOODFUCK OFF KEVYN THIS IS SICK. UGHHHH YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST.

UGH

THIS WHOLE CONVO IS SO BORING IM ASLEEP WORST GUYS IN THE WORLD FUCK OFF THERES NO WAY WE'RE WASTING TIME ON THESE GUYS WHEN THERE'S LITERAL GIRLS EATING GIRLS

"A COVEN OF THEM ALL UP TO NO GOOD" OK that kinda ruled

JEFF WIN JEFF WIN JEFF WIN HIS BIGGG JEFFING COCK FUCKING RULES . NO JEFFING ABOUT.

YOU KILLED HIM?

OKAY jeff is raising the bar here im happy with jeff and walter jeffing and waltering and jaltering and weffing

is weffing something sexual it sounds sexual i hope to god not

shauna is so mother making a meal for the family 😊

THE WOBBLY HEART . MY GOD. DONT- DONT GIVE IT TO TRAVIS. DONT FUCKING LOOK AT HIM WITH THE WOBBLY HEART. COME ON BRO.

hes

um

raw.....

this is a little um

god the crazy parallels of lottie in the past fucking ruined over the ritual and lottie of the present being the most caught up in it. hellaur

IF YOU MAKE CALLIE DEAL WITH THAT ROTTEN COP I'LL KILL US ALL

SHAUNA DRAWING THE CARD?

"IT WAS JUST US!" "is there a difference?" EXACTLY. SAY THAT AT THE FUCKING C- SORRY BUT THEIR SLOW ASS RUNNING MADE ME LOSE IT

TH

THE TRUNK OF THE FUCKING CAR HELP THATS SO FUNNYYYY KEVYNNNNNN

CALLIE WITH A GUN

HI... OK. BUT THE ... OK IS ANYONE GOING CRAZY RIGHT NOW

i mean other than the girlies in animal masks in th e woods

lottie: everybo-

SHUT UP ITS CRAZY EVERY TIME THEY CUT FROM A FUTURE SCENE TO A PAST SCENE I GO STUPID IN THE HEAD

lottie: can you fucking kill me

lottie: can you fucking kill me and can i also elect the next girl president

ANTLER QUEEN?

NATALIE?

YOU MAKE ME SICK

YOU MAKE ME SICK THERES NOWAYYYYYYY

NATALIE NO MY SEET SWEETBABYGIRL

HEY

HI

AND HELLO

LISA....

LISA. NO. SURELY NOT.

OH MY GOD

NATALIE YOU ARE SO....

the nattielot stocks are literall crazy the nattielot stocks are literally in turmoil its like a rollercoaster its literally a thrillride they blow your brain right out up and down and round and round til your FUCKING BRAIN COMES OUT YOUR NOSE AS DINNER SURPRISE

travis......................

my god natalie atalie no NA QUEEN CA RD QU

NM

M

M

M

M

M

HI AND HELLO AND HI

SORRY . THATS TISTE DTHIS IS TWISTED THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING THING EVER IM ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS EVERYBODY VETTER FUCKING KILL

STOP PLAYING RADIOHEAD AND SLOWMOING HER FUCKING DEATH IS THERE NO FUCKING DIGNIT

NO THIS IS

YOU ALL.... ARE THE WORST.....

I HATE MY STUPID FUCKING EXISTENCE

ITS NOT EVIL ITS JUST HU

THE NATLOTTIE STOCKS JUST BURST

I FEEL ILL I HATE MY ST- NOT THE DRUG OVERDOSE. COME ON . I JSUT WANT TO FUCKING CRY THIS ALL FUCKING SUCCKS.

walter: um...... >_<

you guys fucking suck sending her there i know i know theres so few options but fu- VAN. PUT THOSE BIG WET EYES AWAY. PUT THAT AWE-INDUCED WET SMILE AWAY. COME ON GIRL. PULL IT TOGETHER

hey shauna

most normal girl in the world

coach ben said FUCK women. WOW. ALRIGHT. i mean it was... RIGHT LIKE HE?

HE SERIOUSLY JUST DECIDED FUCK THESE GIRLS OH MY GOD YES TYHIS IS THE FUCKING ENDING I WANTED

van being the last out vantler queen when?

THIS IS FUCKING NUTS

altrnateively the wilderness being like :/ you didnt need to do that to havi guys....

ANYWAYS GOD WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

[kidfoundonstreets]

BESTIE WHY ARE YOU REBLOGGING ALL OF THIS I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING (its ok you're absolutely allowed to)

daisy do you know hit game zeno. ive been telling you abt thisalready but im so normal about kuro. i think hes the normalest guy ever and hes one of the main characters. he loves going on long walks on the beach (red braid not invited) and commits crimes and killings and horrors. im just wondering about how kuro is doing right now. is he ok. does he love life. has he gone online. why did he make an askblog. dont let the tumblr girlies get to him. i hope he never finds love. kuro is my favorite character.btw. sorry i dont think im really ever clear about what i say but ive been thinking about kuro a lot. i sit down in my comfy bed and think about kuro. everyday of my life. twelve years counting. kuro is fine right now how is he doing. this is probably off topic but do you like kuro from zeno. kuro is so neat. i think his character is very interesting and appealing to study with one of those fancy microscopes. he should have an entire lab. kuro is on my brain processing like a shitty printer. do you understand. is there any content with kuro you have. if so can i have it please. i love kuro i hope he has the worst time of his life. i hope he dies. i want him to climb out of the grave and deliver a child. kuro reference i think. its all zeno. apologies i dont think ive really talked about him. kuros a guy. he loves books like a nerd. and meat. meat.

[myfriendofmiseryyy]

Frankie's girl: a Frankie Morales x plus sized oc story.

MINORS DNI. PART ONE MENTONS OF PTSD.PAST ABUSE. PAST SMUT (she is Frankie's old best friend) war, insecurities. suggestive convos. drug abuse, Frankie deserving better

summery: Frankie has just returned from his 10 year deployment in Iraq, he left behind his old high school friend Daisy who he had always secretly liked, could he make it work with them?

Daisys pov

Daisy waits at the airport for Frankie and Santi, her two oldest friends, they have been gone on and off for around 10 years now in the delta force. they have been based all over the Middle East but most recently Iraq. Frankie has always been her best friend, they even hooked up in their early 20s, Frankie being the person to take her virginity when she was 21.

she is snapped out of her daydream by a tired looking Frankie and Santi coming through arrivals. "Frankie,santi!!" she calls out.

Frankie's pov:

He could tell that voice from anywhere,his Daisy,his oldest friend apart from Santi, his "hermosa" as he always called her a teenager.

he quickly walks though arrivals and finds her, he could spot her in a sea of a million people. she was always so beautiful. her chestnut brown hair which always had ringlocks, her curvaceous body which she always hated but Frankie found the most attrative thing ever, her smile that lit up any room she went into.

Frankies immediately wraps daisy In the biggest hug. "I've missed you so much" he says trying to hold back tears. "I've missed you too Frankie" she says sofly.

DAISYS r pov: as soon as Frankie comes into view it's like you are 15 again, he is still just as handsome as before, if not even more handsome. his angler nose and deep brown eyes are now joined by a slightly Aged face with a look of sadness, you always hated seeing Frankie sad but now you are just happy to see him alive and well. when he hugs you its like all the wieght and sadness of the past ten years had disappeared you had your Frankie back.

TWO WEEKS LATER.

DAISYS POV...

You are watching tv after a long day when there is a sudden knock on the door, “it’s 10pm who is knocking at my door at 10pm” you honestly feel anxious and your guard is completely up,the reality of being a woman in society. You look through the peephole to see a very sad and possibly drunk Frankie,you last saw him yesterday and he seemed very on edge but didn’t speak about it. You open the door and he nearly falls through it,he is most definitely drunk. “Hermosa” he slurs “Frankie,you’re freezing” it’s around 5 degrees outside and is out there in a tshirt. “Wtf” you hiss at him. “I’m sorry cariño,your place was the only place I thought of” “of course” you think to yourself.

“Stay here,I’ll go get you some clean clothes.” Frankie slumps down on the sofa and groans,he didn’t want you to see him like this. Weak,drunk,and sad. He is a shell of the man he once was,his brain constantly replaying the horrors that he been through the last 8 years. He puts his hands over his face and sighs.

“Here” you say softly, “bathroom is on the right”

Frankie stumbles to his feet and you help him to the bathroom where you wait outside for him,not fully trusting him alone. “You ok in there ciso?” You use the nickname you always called him as kids,you met in 7th grade and were best friends for 10 years and then Frankie wrote to you every single month. “Uh huh” Frankie says quietly. When he returns from the bathroom you’ve already got a blanket and pillow from your bedroom “I’ve got the sofa ok? You’ve got the bed,you need it” you softly say and smile at him. “Hermosa,you don’t have to give up your bed for me. I come into your house drunk and soaking wet and you give me clean clothes,medicine and then give up your own bed for me... I'm a junkie daisy the last two years ive been abusing coke" Frankie chokes back tears. “Look at me frankie,you have been my best friend since I was 12 years old,you always took care of me through everything. Now it’s my turn to take care of you ok,I can see how much you are struggling right now sweetheart, I know about the drugs, Santi told me its not your fault I am going to get you into rehab as soon as you feel strong enough until then ,just let me take care of you ok?” He pulls you into a hug,although he smells like cheap beer there is still an element of your Frankie,a musky smell that has always been Frankie. You rub his back softly and kiss his forehead. “We will talk tomorrow I promise” Frankie says sleeply”

“Get some sleep cariño” you say.

Frankie’s pov:

“I can’t do this anymore” Frankie thinks to himself after his forth beer he takes one big swig of water then stumbles outside to walk to her place. His mind is a minefield (quite literally) and his breathing is laboured. He stops for a moment to look at the mess he had become,the beer,the coke no wonder no one wants him. Its become a coping mechanism,the drugs the alcohol,now he’s back home,this isn’t training camp anymore this isn’t the trenches either,or a empty helicopter bay he can drown himself in coke in. He’s home,in his hometown. You’re here and he wants to make things right again…”like turning up at her house unannounced at 10pm high of my tits will help” he mutters to himself as he comes to your street. He meant to knock on your door quietly but he ends up being very heavy handed with it, and nearly falling through the door when you open it. he is soaking wet and freezing "mi hermosa" Frankie slurs, "wtf" you hiss at him as he stumbles into your house "I'm sorry carino your place was the only place I could think of." he can see right through you, he can see that you are confused and angry and he doesnt blame you, he would be too. "ill get you some clean clothes,you stay here ok" you say softly, Frankie slumps on to the sofa and puts his head in his hands, "I've really fucked up" he says to himself.

'here" you say handing him the soft warm clothes, "bathroom is on the right, ill be here if you need anything"

Frankie sleepily gets up and goes to the bathroom to put the fresh clothes on, the smell like you, the soft linen smell mixed with the faint smell of your perfume the you haven't had the heart to change since you were a teenager. Frankie inhales it as he puts the sweater over his head, he loves the fact your clothes are oversized on him, you were always so embarrassed as a teenager saying it should be the other way around but Frankie had none of it, he insisted that you were beautiful and shouldn't change for anyone. he is snapped out of his daydream by you shouting if he was ok, you used his nickname "Cisco" which gave him goosebumps, no one has ever called him that apart from you, he is either "catfish" or "Francisco" to everyone else

"uh huh" he says back quietly before opening the door to see you've made a make shift bed for him on the couch which he smiles at. "here, have some water and medicine, it shoukd make you sober up quicker. also you take the bed ill take the couch, you need it."

"hermosa you don't have to give up your own bed for me, I've turned up to your house unannounced and you give me clean clothes medicine and a bed? I don't deserve any of this, the last two years have been hell, I'm addicted to coke daisy, I don't deserve a friend like you"

" look Frankie you have been my best friend since I was 12, you've helped me through such tough times now its my turn to take care of you, I know about the coke, Santi told me. I am going to be there every single step of the way I promise, I will get you into rehab when you are ready but until then I'm taking care of you ok?

Frankie is overwhemed with emotion and the only thing he can do is pull you into the tightest hug. he feels you rub his back softly, he wants to break down there and then but he knows he cant. " we will talk tomorrow I promise" he says into your hair.

[nineliabilityrisk]

⭐ ( @ladyseidr )

[ send a " ⭐ " and i will list muses i would be interested in throwing at yours ]

[ asked by @ladyseidr ]

lets just go down the list here. theres gonna be a damn good few i have SO MANY muses i havent even gotten to play yet. this is going to be so fucking incoherent because i have so many thoughts in my brain. also i KNOW we have stuff pending im working on it i promise im just so all over the place im. yeah 👍

putting my answer under the cut bc this is gonna get LONG

[formatting is "your muse - my muse(s) i would like to see with them"]

funtime foxy - funtime freddy [+ bon-bon] or lolbit ofc!! my muses for them have been inconsistent as fuck lately but i WILL corral them into place eventually

henry emily - literally any of the animatronics. ive hardly gotten to play any of them i want to know how he would treat them. heavy HEAVY emphasis on the rockstars + lefty bc those are HIS bots and his kid and my versions of them are absolute sweethearts. or like. the puppet. or the original bonnie + freddy models. literally any of them. PLEASE god i need someone to come say hi to my fucked up little robots. (/nf) also of course i am shoving mikey and ciar at him thats a given, henry isnt mikes stepdad hes the dad who stepped up i need more content of them. and henry is also not immune to the curse that is ciarán dempsey. he WILL get a hold of him one day. its gonna happen (/lh)

roxanne wolf - cassie. are you kidding. i am picking cassie up and SHOVING her into roxys arms i need more of them literally always i dont care where or when or how. also "secret muse number 2" aka glambonnie who i never bothered to write a bio for. literally my only other actual sb muse because i wasnt interested in sb at ALL until ruin 😭 but i do have a sb verse for michael now too if you wanna have roxy pester him! scare the shit outta that cynical bastard! put some healthy fear of god into him that boy has none left after dying and being brought back to life twice! also if ur willing to wait i am actively working on a sideblog for birdie, my help wanted / sb era oc... i feel like she would get along with roxy REALLY well

michael afton - jeremy jeremy jeremy jeremy i will NEVER pass up a chance to play jeremy. also my henry is always here <3 ive stated this so many times before (including earlier in this post) but michael and henrys dynamic can be something SO personal. pizza sim era or pre-everything or what have you i dont CARE what it is i just want michael to have the caring father figure he was missing and for henry to have the chance to care for a child that he never thought he would have again. i want them to bond over what william did to them. they are everything to me i cannot state this enough. also im dangling all my animatronics in front of ur mikey ooooooh you wanna subject him to the Horrors so so bad. also i think he would like my oc josh theyre both tired minimum wage fazbear employees. also i would be offering evan but that little fuckers muse is GONE atm i dont know where he ran off to im so sorry

[therealpontius]

Are you dunn yet?

This is the only other series ive done, ive wrote a few chapters but i abandoned the end so i hope i can pick it up again.

Warnings: drug misuse

It was a normal saturday. You woke up at 7, got changed, watched the news then headed to aldi for your weekly shopping. You were only 23 but acted 53.

When you parked your car you headed for the shop getting milk, soup, veg, fruit and eventually icecream incase of surprise periods or down days.

"Oh piss off" you heard from behind you, making you turn round. A group of 5 men stood, looking at a bag of potatoes , they all looked around your age. One of the boys noticed you had turned around, he was shirtless with patchwork tattoos and a shaved head "hey, lady. Sure potatoes where the first food to grow in space?" The five men turned to look at you, waiting for your response. Unfortunately you knew the answer "yeah...?" The group of men look at each other "bull shit, steve-o payed her to say that. Im calling it" a smaller man with curly hair spoke to the rest "i can confirm he didnt" you laughed as you walked to go pick up your icecream. Aldi only done one you liked and that was cheeky monkey, if you didnt get it it was the end of the world.

You managed to spot it but it was on the top shelf, shit. "Okay ill jump" you whispered under your breath. Didnt work "just stand on your tiptoes" you encourage yourself. Didnt work. You look around, no ones there. "AASAHDHWJEJE" screaming into your hands in frustration "hello? Everything alright?" You freeze in horror and embarrassment as someone tapped your sholder from behind, you slowly turn round and it was one of the men from earlier, curly blonde hair and was probably around 6ft with beautiful eyes, he noticed you staring at himFor too long "hello? Lady?" You snapped out of it "um yes sorry im fine" you turned round again to hide your red face "well alright" his voice faded.

Once he had gone you continued trying to reach it when you felt an arm brush pass yours and grab the ice cream, you turn round to face who it was when you realise how close he is, practically hugging you close . Sure enough it was the beautiful stranger "here you go, im getting one aswell anyways" you raise your eyebrow since youve never heard anyone else actually liking it "you like this one?" He nods "its the only good one" a laugh escapes your lips as you relate to him, you took the cold ice cream and thank him going to walk off "hey lady wait one more thing!" You turn round and see him writing his number onto a bingo ticket, he gives you the paper and mouths "call me" before walking off. Strange.

After buying your items and walking out the shop, you took the number out your pocket

"845 747-" "hey watch where your going!" The older man you bumped into shouted and you noticed you had dropped the paper "sorry!" You chased the pink bingo paper in the middle of the carpark, everyones eyes where on you as you ran -ass in the air- after a soaking wet bingo paper but looked away once you had finally caught it

You checked  the number incase it had been damaged, it had, the black ink on your hands and smudged down "shit!" You exclaim earning a "cover your ears Tommy, she clearly isnt one with god" from an elder woman near by.

The sky got dark and you still held the peice of paper in your hand. Sitting on the couch, tv on in the background and the plasticity paper slotted between your fingers as if it had been cemented. No matter how hard you tried you couldnt make sense of it

"And for tonights bingo! Number one.... 45 Number two... 12...."

Wait. You look at the bingo ticket again.

'45  12  66   70  06'

"Number three 66"

Yes.

"Number four 70"

Okay.

"And for the last number of the night..... six!!!"

You jump up and celebrate as if you where sat with your friends, fists flung in the air and the pure look of joy on your face. "Fuck it" you say calling your friends "fancy a drink?"

5 friends and 5 excuses later you where left alone, the joy of wining far gone. Might aswell go drinking yourself?

You arive at a small pub to have a few ciders and go home, no intention of getting shit faced. The bar desk was sticky, it stank of beer and peanuts "hello lady, what can i do you for?" The bartender, jamie asked. He was a nice man, quite old and could not remember names for the life of him "just two cans of cider please jamie" he nodded and walked to get you your cans.

"Hey potato lady!" Your hopes got high, you turned feeling your face already blushed "hey! Oh.. hey" it was the guy with the shaved head and he sat with a girl with medium curly hair that had her face down onto the table, probably too drunk to stay awake. "What you doing here all alone?" You shrugged "didnt have anyone to come with" jamie placed your cider cans down and took in the change you had placed beforehand "thankyou my love" you nodded him off as you lifed your cans to the table the man was sitting at.

As you sat down you realised how drunk or high or whatever the man was, was. "The names o, steve-o" you tried to hide your cringe as much as you could, his face resembling a smoulder "my names y/n, nice to meet you" you put out your hand for him to shake but he couldnt manage to touch it, his hand swinging and swiping at anything but your hand "whos your lady friend?" You point to the strangely muscular woman who lay in her arms, raising your eyebrows. He goes silent and his eyes searched your face before a husky laughed escaped his lips "what? Is it your sister?" His laugh only grew stronger waking up the woma- wait "dude what" oh shes a man...

"Potato lady thinks your a girl!" The man looked around confused at who this 'potato lady' is "im so sorry!" You laughed out an apology making him smile too, his smile much more friendlier than

steve-os "hello mrs potato, my names chris. Now steve if you wouldnt mind im really sleepy" steve-o wiped the tears from his eyes and patted chris on the back .

"So back to business" he brought his nose up to a tissue and inhaled causing you to look at him in disgust.  He just looked you up and down "now my friend, ryan, was telling us he scored with a hottie and gave her his number. Why didnt you call him? I mean like.. like..." he zoned out and lay back in his chair leaving you to look around, confused. "Steve-o? Steve-o?" You nudged him and he sat up "what dude?" He looked more pissed "take my number and give it to ryan" he pulled out his phone and started stairing at it like it was changing shape "what the fuck dude, you do it" you slowly type your number into his phone and return it to him.

When you finally headed home you could barley sleep thinking about how eventful today had been...

[yoditorian]

Gone

from the Lacuniverse

@the-force-awakens and @thevoiceinyourheadx you guys are gluttons for punishment, so pls consider yourselves punished - to everyone who loves Shara Bey i’m so sorry.

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 1.1k // warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, this whole post is under a cut for a reason, if ur looking for din he’s not here

Bloodburn.

Rare, brutal, fatal.

You don’t believe Kes when he calls, not at first, Shara hadn’t even wanted him to tell you. But he can’t keep it from you, he knows you’d never forgive him and he needs you.

“How long?”

“Two weeks, she wouldn’t let me say anything.”

And you drop everything.

Everything, you don’t lock up the shop, you don’t even cut off the comm - you just leave it lying on the desk in the back office, Kes can probably hear you scrambling on the other end. Shara told you she was visiting her dad. She’d told you she was visiting her dad, and instead she’s been slowly succumbing to the fever that plagues every pilots’ nightmares. For two weeks, she’s been a twenty minute speeder ride away. Dying. So, of course, you drop everything.

You don't have enough fingers to count the number of times you've thought you would lose Shara over the years. But whenever things looked like they were coming down to the wire, there was always something you could do about it. Shoot a TIE on her tail, or jump in front of a blaster bolt, or take a mission with bad odds so she might have a chance of getting back to her son. Not this time. Kes sounded so hollow, so helpless, so unlike the man you know him to be.

She’s sick, and she’d lied to you about it. When had you ever known Shara Bey to lie to you?

Bloodburn is a horror story, something trainers use to scare the cadets into keeping up their spacer exercises when they’re in orbit for months at a time. It’s happened to people, sure. But it’s rare, it doesn’t happen to people like you, like Shara. The thing she used to love most in the galaxy, the thing that brought you together, can’t be the thing that takes her from you.

And Din, he’s not even here. You can’t call him home, you can’t send a message across the galaxy to tell him that half of your heart is dying, because he’ll come running. And he has to be redeemed in the eyes of his covert, the only thing he might ever have done for himself. But he’ll give it up for you, you know he will. You won’t ask him to do that.

The track ahead of you is blurry, from the dust kicked up by the speeder, or the tears in your eyes you’re not sure. But you’ve got to be breaking every traffic law on Yavin IV with the way you’re ignoring the brake pedal.

You’re still not quick enough.

You’re not sure how you know, but something deep inside of your chest just snaps.

She’s already gone.

Poe sprints out of the front door the moment you hop out of the speeder, you don't think he can even see you as he barrels down the dusty driveway. But you catch him anyway, as you always have, hold him against you and let him feel every sharp angle of his loss. The way his head presses into your stomach threatens to knock you over, but you stay upright. Your own body feels too small to contain your grief, you can't imagine how his little bones aren't cracking under the weight of it.

How can she do this? How can she leave this little boy behind? How dare she go where none of the people who love her can follow?

Little Poe Dameron, who’ll have to live the rest of his life without his mother. Kes, and you, and Din, and Lu’lo, you’ll all try. But none of you will ever be her, not for him.

You don't complain when he sags sleepily against you, when he clambers up your body even though he's been too big to carry for a while now. Keeping a hold on Poe is just about the only thing that's keeping you tethered to the ground when you notice Kes standing in the open doorway. Your legs shake as you carry Poe back to the house, back to his father - Kes looks older than you’ve ever seen him, the pain in his face so obvious you can’t think of a single word to say to him. He crumbles when you’re close enough to touch. Close enough to press his face into his son’s curls atop your shoulder, and shake with silent sobs. You stand there until the sun disappears behind the red giant in the sky, until it’s dark and you start to shiver.

Kes takes Poe’s sleeping body from you, so small in his father’s arms, and trembles as he pads through the little house towards the boy’s bedroom. His and Shara’s door is firmly shut, the only barrier between you and your worst fear.

Just open the fucking door, chicken.

She’s taunting you now, the little voice in your head that sounds exactly like her. The voice that’ll never tease you again. That’ll never reassure you or go over a plan with you, or laugh, or sing, or shout, or cry. You don’t give yourself time to think about it before you’re crossing the modest living room and shoving the door open.

If you didn’t know better, at first glance you might say she was sleeping. Except, Shara has never been a back sleeper. A side sleeper, a fidgety sleeper, an on her face upside down in the bed sleeper, sure. But never on her back. She says back sleepers look dead, it freaks her out. But her chest isn’t moving with the breath that should be there and the closer you get, the clearer it is.

She’s not in there.

There’s no colour in the body that lies in the bed, nothing left to indicate that she was ever in there in the first place. Just cold skin and dull hair and eyes that’ll never open again.

You don’t realise what you’re doing, not really, when you find the comb from her bedside table in your hands. Her dark curls spread out on the pillow like a halo are knotted, tangled from her bed bound last days. The days that you didn’t even know would be her last. But while your fury bubbles up violently under your skin, now is not the time for anger. There is no place for rage at the bedside of your dead best friend. So you quietly comb the hair you can reach, leaving her curls soft for the doctor you’re sure Kes hasn’t called yet. You’ll do that for him too, just as soon as you’re finished. Because just like him, you’re not ready to admit to what you know is true. What you wished would never be true.

Shara, your Shara, is gone.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

QUICK GAME OF THE YEAR REACTION POST:

sorry for anyone who follows me for ofmd(ive been ofline due to work+school+writing 2 ofmd fic due Dec 15th), but really quick, here's my general thoughts about my Other unhealthy habit besides writing about gay pirates!! I love gaming and this year was STRONG, so I have THOUGHTS. This is my superbowl.

Rants first:

Pizza Tower was robbed for breakout indie. By a Mile. It had 40k community reviews compared to the winners 2k. The winners were an offshoot indie company that made fuckimg LIMBO. One of the games that started the indie scene vs. a passion project between friends. All the music is being written by 1 guy with 2 developers on the game. Pizza Tower released in the first few months of 2023 to a huge breakout fandom vs. Cacoon that just came out a few months ago. I think indie needs to be more community vs. reviewer based, as the community is selling the game to future fams vs. Games Journalists. I loved Pizza Tower, but it's not a pretty game the journalists choose. I loved it, from its fast-paced music to 90s cartoon art to challenging gameplay, and it sucks that this fan community will be the people that review bombed cacoon. To me, it feels like the last of us 2 winning everything a few years ago. No hate to the devs. But damn.

-I fucking hate Hideo Kojima. I generally dispise his work as it feels like he's afraid to create 'lesser' art and uses his influence to hang out with celebrities. I think death stranding is sloppy, and most of HIS work in the Metal Gear series is dumb. His action feels slow, and his plots vaguely empty. So when I saw a more psychological horror game with his studio slapped on it(a genra you need to be VERY careful with), i wasn't happy. HOWEVER. I admire the fuck out of Jordan Peele and his version of a more sociological horror. Of systems and society and PEOPLE influencing our horror. Of what being an outcast means. So we're combining a successful studio with money and a writer who hopefully can toe the line between offensive mental health tropes and the fiction of the universe. I was fucking SQUEALING when Peele came out. (If he's a shit head, I apologize in advance). This could be a story based game that grabs me.

-please limit all announcers to a standard time frame. They should be as pressured in their speeches as the winners.

-E3 is gone. This is why there are so many announcements and adds for games va time for awards. Can we please create a separate indie vs. AAA show to highlight indie general beyond farmlife/pretry games. I want indie horror and other smaller genre to get recognized.

(Also fuck Neil druckmann for being a POS)

BG3 getting Game of the Year: spent 300+ hours playing BG3. Replaying acts 1/2 with around 5 different Tavs who never beat act 3(thanks to anxiety of finally ending a story). Romancing Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion(dark urge). As a dragon age fan, this is the best RPG in that style I can ask for. I am delighted with every award it got, and will cherish this game for years. The dark urge 'good' playthrough featuring a plot that inspires me to this day.

Games I need to play right now apparently.

I thought Alan Wake 1 had a bad story but apparently Alan Wake 2 is right up my alley. A better horror game with better story and unreality and pushing the medium of video games. Which is my shit. I also need to understamd that dance montage. (I want to see why this won story over BG3, BG3 takes into account player action. Why did this win over 100s of hours of story content?)

The Finals. I can't stand battle royal/rainbow 6 esk games in general, but the attitude and destruction looks fun, and it's free. So fuck it.

Hi-fi rush! No clue what it is but it looked lovely and up my alley!

New stuff to look out for

That game based on Journey to the West. I was freaking out the entire trailer. I feel a long form game is the perfect way to adapt the legend. I loved watching Ellen ring and can see this become a comfort streaming game to watch.

'BLADE'- GAME???? FUCK YEAH! I was so hyped when I put the pieces together. I'm thankful for my time in the marvel fandom but I'm happy Blade was mostly ignored and we'll get a passionate team creating what will likely be a game with Batman Arkham style combat.

Free God of War DLC looks amazing, and as a rogue lite fan, I'll love to watch the story unfold online

Lost Records- from the life is strange people, is my shit. I will play it.

I finally get to play my dad's favorite Sega games with this remaster!!! All 5 look amazing.

Any Syardew Valley, Elden Ring or Hades like game. Love that shit.

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[whaleofatjme1920]

EJ SIMPS RISE 😤😤💪💪💪

may i please request a scenario for yandere ej x fem reader where ej is punishing the reader for escaping ? feel free to go DARK dark with this one <3

Cream Colored Ceiling

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFW - but not for sexual content, just violence, what isn't a warning in this one, mentions of cannibalism (but there is no described cannibalism, just allusions to it), EJ physically harms the reader, amputation, violence of all kinds, throw up, look this is just,,,, it's dark. I repeat, there is no sexual content in here, it's just physically violent]

[AN: yeah. This was uh, yeah.]

Hazy, your mind is hazy. You wake and open your eyes to see that same fucking cream colored ceiling with water damage leaking through the top and dangerously close to your bed, if you’d even want to call it your bed.

You raise one of your hands that feels heavier than stones and wipe quietly at your eyes, dusting them from the sleep. Your body feels heavy, oh so heavy.

You sit up. Nothing strange so far.

Has he really been that gracious with you?

You yawn and stretch, joints and bones popping as you look out the window. There’s that cursed forest. It looks dark, shadowy, misty. The fog is rolling in and you know with it comes the rain. You’re going to be stuck here forever, aren’t you?

The sunlight doesn’t filter through the window, but there’s light regardless. You’re deep into mid Autumn and with it will come winter. It’ll be the third winter you’ve been trapped with this monster.

Your mouth feels dry, much too dry. You smack your lips together a few times, wondering where your saiva has gone and decide to go to the kitchen. It seems like Jack isn’t home right now, which is probably for the best. Alongside him being out, so too is your natural fear of him. You swing your legs over the side of your bed, wondering why you feel so physically exhausted before attempting to stand up.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knees buckle beneath you, your body cascading like a pile of bricks to the floor. Your knees and palms blank onto the hardwood, digging into you most uncomfortably. Tears well in your eyes as you struggle to get off the floor. You continue to curse under your breath as you glance back at your ankles where large surgical wounds lay, covered in stitches and gauze. What the fuck? When did that happen?

Your heart begins to race when you slow, calculated steps padding on the floor. You’re all too familiar with the sound of those combat boots knocking on the floor, pacing back and forth and keeping you awake at all hours of the night. Panic sears itself into your heart as you attempt to get up, pathetically crawling along the floor and reaching for your bedpost.

Jack stands in your doorway, his large form casting a shadow on your throw rug. He tsks, and you can already tell he’s more than disappointed with you. “What did I tell you about getting up?” He asks, voice smooth and clinical, once again padding towards you.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you curl as tightly into a ball as you can.

Jack breathes out with slight disappointment before crouching down and seeing your sorry form. “You knew this was going to happen,” he says, half lidded eyes watching you curiously before he reaches his large, gloved hand out. “Did you pop any of your sutures?” He tilts his head to the side and looks over your swollen, still bloodied ankles. “I think you might’ve.” He reaches to pick you up and you begin to panic, blubbering your apologies.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me-” you begin to babble, your remaining strength trying their hardest to push the behemoth away. Tears well in your eyes as Jack grips your calves, sending pain holting like lightning strikes up and down your lower body, making you cry out in pain.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs, his claws pinching into your skin before he lifts you. A glance of annoyance passes over his face before he yanks your grip from the bed.

You struggle against him as you pound your fists into his broad chest, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks.

The tall demon moves without budging. He doesn’t care, you barely feel like a scratch to him.

You watch your surroundings, still fighting against him and feel your heart sink when you realize he’s taking you down the hall that he’s deemed forbidden. The energy you feel from this specific hallway makes you cry out in fear.

Jack eats it up, his own heart beating just a little faster. You won’t ever do what you pulled last night again. He juggles you into one his arms and uses his free hand to unlock the door, the slight beeps of numbers being added into a keypad making your attention shift ever so slightly.

The inside of this room is like a horror scene to you. You see an operating table, and stainless steel tables, cabinets and countertops. There’s a large trash bin filled with bloody gauze and other things, such as discarded clothes, clumps of hair, things you don’t want to think of. Is this it? Is he finally going to kill you?

Fear overtakes your system again and renders you to nothing but silent sobs as Jack pulls off a turquoise colored sheet from the operating table, placing you down.

You try to get off, wiggling and clawing at him. “Let me go!” You cry out like a broken record of a mantra, your eyes wild and feral.

Jack simply shrugs you off, tying large leather brown straps over your waist and your chest, rendering you immobile. “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt you,” he hums, his clawed hands moving across your chest to your wrists. He quickly ties you down there as well, your legs numbly kicking at him through the pain due to severed Achilles tendons. He flicks the wound on your left leg, grinning at your pain. “Won’t be needing these anymore,” he chuckles.

“What?” You say in shock, pupils restricting to the size of pim points.

He takes a seat on his wheeled stool and begins setting you up with an IV drip. “Gonna sedate you, and when you wake up?” He warmly smiles, pricking the vein on your right arm with the needle, making you weakly thrash once more. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pumping some sedatives into your bloodstream.

You feel more tears welling in your eyes as your conscience begins to wean. The world becomes more shapes and colors, merging into brightness and shadows before you finally slip into your dreams.

You haven’t been able to trick Jack like this in the history of well, ever. Almost three years with this nightmare and you’ve finally gained enough of his trust to ask him for some time out.

“Don’t stay in there for too long,” he says, large hand gripping your thigh as you swallow down the feeling of hitting him from where you remain seated in the passenger seat. “I want you back safely,” he murmurs, his other hand gently letting go of the wheel to cup your face.

You do your best to show love and admiration in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s just an hour or so, okay?” You hum, your hand gently holding his and burying your face deeper into his warmth.

“I don’t know why you need anyone else’s company,” he says, a slight acrid venom seeping into his tone. “You don’t need anyone else but me.” It’s almost cute how offended he sounds.

You play the part of loving him. “I know, I know,” you coo, taking his hand from your face and pressing your lips into a pucker. You raise his hand to them, planting a kiss on his palm. “I love you. I won’t be that long.”

Jack’s heart flutters. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He says, watching you as you unbuckle yourself, his hand reluctantly leaving your thigh.

You flash him a warm smile and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. You try not to spit at the scent of blood and taste of rot before pulling away. You then open up his car, sliding from the passenger seat and to the rinky dink little bar you’d managed to convince him to let you go to. Just an hour - that’s all it was. Just an hour. You’d be in and out, get some drinks, and come straight back to his car.

Due to Jack’s appearance, he had told you he couldn’t go in. They’d know something was wrong with him immediately, and you’d gained enough of his trust for you to be away for just an hour. Come straight back to the car when it reaches 10 PM. You promised him. And he fucking believed you.

It wasn’t that hard finding some idiot down on his luck with the ladies. You cozied up next to him, getting to sit with him at the bar and start talking. He was so attentive and sweet, so receptive to the story you had made up to him.

“That sounds awful,” he says, voice low and sweet. His deep blue eyes look at you with nothing but gentleness and fondness. His hand reaches for yours across the bar and you smile, allowing him to take it.

“I just wanna get away from that brute,” you admit. “I just wanna go home.”

He squeezes you just a little tighter. “Why don’t we go back to my car and call the cops?” He offers.

“Where did you park?” You ask, hoping it’s not in the front lot where Jack remains waiting for you.

“In the back.”

What a relief.

A slight smile blooms on your face as you nod. “Yeah, let’s go,” you finally answer. You hop off the barstool and then grip his hand, letting him lead you through the bar and the sea of people. It smells like sweat, alcohol, and regret - you love it. It smells like the beginning of freedom, something better. Maybe, just maybe…

He opens the backdoor to you, allowing you out first. The crisp night air of autumn greets you with her beauty. You can smell maple leaves and pumpkins out in the distance, the atmosphere is incredible. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing to his car a little ways down in the parking lot under one of the yellow lights. He continues holding your hand as the two of you walk through the parking lot.

You watch as he unlocks the car door, walking around the side to let you in. You accompany him and slide into the passenger seat. Putting this seat belt on feels almost liberating. You giggle when the short man closes the door before walking around the front of his car.

And then he pauses.

Fear seeps into his eyes and leans forward, his abdomen cutting into the hood of the hunk of metal that can barely be called a car before sweat beads and rolls down his forehead. He begins to cough, violently.

Your eyes widen in shock as he begins to cough up blood, and tears well in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, fat and crystalline like the beads of sweat. He reaches out to you, mouthing for you to run before finally slumping forwards.

You see him, the behemoth that’s held you captive for three years, a sapphire colored mask boring into your soul and searing into your mind with what you can understand is pure, unadulterated rage. You scramble, panicking as you notice the large blade that’s wedged itself into the man’s back as he seizes on the car, his thick body rolling off from the hood and landing with a large ‘thump!’ as he does so. Foam and the smell of something unpleasant wafts upwards and you palm the handle of the car, attempting to release yourself.

Jack takes slow, calculated steps forwards, his shadow growing larger as he gears up to catch you and claim you as his.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, the panic overtaking your system as you finally get the car open. You shoot out of the metal cage like a bat from hell and stumble onto the asphalt, hissing as the black tar digs into your knees and palms. No time for registering your pain, you need to run! Like a freshly born faun, you hobble up and begin to run, wondering if you can make it back to the bar and the safety of other people when Jack’s steps grow quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s going to catch you and he’s going to kill you!

“You’re such a stupid little rabbit,” he hums, watching as you sorely sprint towards the door. “Look what you’ve done,” he taunts, hand gesturing to the man. “You made me kill him and I’m not even hungry,” he hums. “Maybe I should make you eat it instead,” he muses.

The thought alone makes your stomach retch. You stumble once more, body feeling violently ill as you cave. The alcohol paired with his words has you emptying your stomach of its contents that splash to the asphalt, the sickly acrid and saccharine taste overtaking your mouth.

Jack’s giant form finally overtakes you. He stands with his hands behind his back, peering down at you with disdain. “Fucking disgusting,” he coos in a tone that reminds you of a condescending father. He grips the back of your neck and forces you down.

You screech and fight him, not wanting to touch what came out of you.

“No? No,” he grins. “Fine. Let’s go see your date.” His claws dig into your neck as he drags you back to the man’s car where he’s finally gone still. He’s left a puddle of blood. Jack laughs quietly at your struggling before forcing you to your knees. “Are you hungry?”

“No-”

“I think you mean yes.”

The taste of blood still lingers in your mouth, and it remains even in your slumber.

Of course, you passed out due to your traumatic experience, and threw up again as well. Jack took advantage of your fragile state and brought you back to your home, the place you belonged - with him. He cut your Achilles tendons, just a warm up, really.

“Time to wake up.” Jack’s voice permeates your head, rousing you from your slumber. His gloved hands are snapping in front of you.

It’s bright, much too bright. Your body feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. Where are you? You see that you’re now looking into an operating light, and it’s super uncomfortable. “What did you do to me?” You ask drowsily.

Jack ignores your question and instead picks you up. His footsteps begin to lull you into sleep.

Exhausted, you fall back in again, and this time? This time, it’s dreamless.

It’s that fucking cream colored ceiling again that you open your eyes to. The water damage is still the same, and you realize you’re still stuck. You’re about to get up when you hear your door opening.

“Nice to see you up,” Jack says, watching as you slowly come to. “Did you dream about anything?”

You narrow your eyes recoiling as he reaches his hand out to pet you.

Jack glares at you for a moment, his hand straightening before he slaps you. “Don’t get testy, I’ll take your arms next,” he murmurs.

You’re about to bite back when you take in his words. What? Your heart begins to sink, deeper and deeper as your hand shakily reaches to the edge of your bed sheets. No. No. NO. You hold your breath as you rip the sheets off. Your flesh is swollen, puffy and looks like it’s crying out in its own form of pain. Large, manila colored casts and bandages surround your thighs and what remains of your knees.

You begin to hyperventilate. Your chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster - your body feels like a prison.

Jack only coos. “Stop that,” he says lovingly, hand petting your head as you fall deeper and deeper into despair. He removes the black glove from his hand and grabs your face, his dark, eyeless sockets boring into your own eyes. He looks at you with such adoration that acts as a front for the betrayal and anger he feels for you deep down inside. He draws closer to your tear stained face, a small smile bearing shark-like teeth at you before parting his lips to speak to you. “You’re being hysterical.”