#you are so right please take my golden coins

[jesuistrestriste]

this is my request for more patrick. dare i say artrick. dare i say them both totally pliable in your hands. i am terribly greedy and want to see sub!artrick and dom!reader written by you. please and thank

love youuuuu

eee hope this is to your liking annie ♥️ muah muah muah !

cw (18+) : sub!art donaldson, sub!patrick zweig, dom!reader, messy handjobs, desperation, dirty talk, patrick and art work for it

“does this feel good?” you breathe out, your voice almost shaky from the feeling of both sets of lips on your neck.

“mmn—yeah, yeah, i’m s’good,” art slurs into your left side, bucking up into your sticky hand, “can i—more—ah, faster—? aah-!”

patrick bites at your right earlobe and whimpers against your skin. his cock throbs in your right fist, dribbling with fluid from his attentive slit. it looks like melting glass pouring down his sensitive flesh.

“please,” he groans, “touch my tip, please.. oh, fuck, please—“

you chuckle and then suck in a soft breath when the blonde nips needily at your shoulder, lathing over it with his tongue after in apology. sometimes when his body starts to ache with arousal, he has to find an outlet for it—and sometimes that means biting, grabbing, sobbing, the like. patrick’s usually only slightly more restrained. they’re like two sides of the same coin, both constantly vying for attention, only in subtly different ways. it’s a good thing that you’ve trained them to stop bickering when you’re playing with their willing bodies. otherwise, they’d be at each other’s throats a bit right now.

“behave.”

that singular word from your mouth snaps them both back into place like rubber bands. art pants, high-pitched and whiny, while patrick grabs at the front of your body. he palms over your chest and squeezes whatever he can cup.

“i’m sorry,” you hear earnestly from the left side, accompanied by a calloused hand rubbing your inner thigh. you fist the back of his golden curls, which elicits a sharp, guttural cry to spring forth. his length twitches, balls drawn up.

“sorry, ungh, sorry,” comes from the right side, but less earnest and more please, just don’t stop. your other hand rubs at his bouncing leg. his eyes roll back under heavy lids, eclipsing his colorful irises.

“who wants to come?”

art smushes himself into your side and accidentally slides his dick through your returned grip, shuddering, “me, me—i wanna—.. please, it hurts—“

he swallows his mouthful of drool and buries his face into your neck. whines like a newborn puppy. grabs at your bicep.

patrick tugs roughly at the waistband of your bottoms, desperately wanting to slide his hand down and make you feel good. you can practically feel the waves of heat radiating off of his dazed body.

“i’m ready to come for you, feel me,” he takes his other hand and wraps it around your hand that’s holding his length, urging you to squeeze him a bit more and feel how much he needs it, “i’m so close.. so close, s’ close, i feel it coming..”

you slide your hands off of them at the same time. they crumple forward and moan brokenly at nearly the exact same moment, both feeling the swell of their peaks taper off painfully when your curled fingers caress the undersides. they pout and look up to your eyes.

“are you both going to be good for me?”

simultaneous nods follow the question. unsurprising. they share a look between themselves, then back to you.

you place a hand on the back of art’s neck first, then patrick’s. a soft smirk creeping over your lips as you urge them both forward in front of your eyeline.

they seem to get the hint, their gazes immediately fixating on one another. patrick’s the first to move, reaching his touch from your body to cup art’s ruddy cheek. the blonde leans into the touch like its some sort of lifeline, pleading for any point of contact he can get. he dives in and smushes his lips to the brunette’s, licking at his bottom one to beg for entry. pat obliges.

while you watch them begin to sync up, all broken sounds and lewd smacking and furrowed brows, you spit into your palms and bring them back down to begin pumping them. watching them kiss is like watching them play tennis: they know exactly what to do. it’s almost like they’re doing a dance.

art’s eyes flutter open and roll back, patrick’s squeezing shut tighter. their jaws slack and they lick into each other’s open mouths, gulping each other’s cries down greedily—like they’re consuming one another’s pleasure in the midst of their own. you feel a blurt of warm lubricant seep between your fingers from art’s cock, and a thrum of heat runs through your spine at the realization. he’s always been one to enjoy making-out. thoroughly, actually. he can finish just from it alone. patrick needs a bit more stimulation.

so, expectantly, the brunette chokes on a soft sob against his opposite’s bottom lip and drags his tongue over it. “more,” he murmurs, “aangh, jus’ a bit more—“

you stroke them both faster and they nearly break. pat bites down hard on art’s lip and art yelps, his hips bouncing with your touch.

“gentle, patrick, gentle,” you remind him, thumbing the ridge of his cockhead, the area pulsing and hot to the touch.

art sniffles, kissing his tennis partner deeper despite the sting from the clamp of his teeth. their hands are all over each other now. clawing at forearms and snagging handfuls of hair and gripping over shoulders. it’s a mess.

suddenly, patrick breaks the kiss and whimpers against art’s jaw—low and stuttered. art tries to kiss him again, too lost in the feeling to realize he’s stopped, but misses his lips and mouths at his cheek instead.

“i’m too close,” the brunette shudders, “please, can i come yet? i can’t hold it anymore, it’s gonna come out, gonna come,” he murmurs urgently.

“art, are you ready too?”

he nods, licking over the sweat on pat’s skin depravedly. he kisses him again, finding his lips. “mhmmmn—!”

you slide your hands up to begin rapidly jerking their tips, using their oozing evidence of arousal to work them up to their frayed ends. art squeezes patrick’s arm, mouth open and letting out little sounds that rise in pitch—higher, higher, higher—almost there. patrick tries in vain to fuck into your touch, his pelvis stuttering, his fluids leaking over his happy-trail.

“are you boys going to come now?”

art mewls sharply, patrick swallows thickly around a throaty sob. any more teasing, and you’d never hear the end of it. it’d be cruel, really.. and they’ve been good enough.

you press your thumbs to their tacky frenulums. rubbing quick, successive circles there. just how they like it—just what they need.

“.. let it all go.. show me how obscene and filthy you both look when you break..”

and they do.

they shatter.

their visions white out dizzily as the stimulation reaches the point of no-return; their mouths opening and bodies convulsing in ways that are nothing short of pornographic.

“oh, fuuuck—!” patrick gushes, ropes pouring from him in heavy waves, the paralyzing jabs of pleasure rendering him useless and twitchy as he orgasms. the thick, clotted load spills copiously.

a string of clinging spit bridges their lips as art leans back to pant raggedly. he looks down and watches as his own climax floods the gaps between your fingers and bubbles frothily as your movements refuse to relent. he uses his free hand to grab your wrist, thrusting reflexively as he hiccups and nearly squeals from the overstimulation. “ow—hmmngh—coming, coming, so much—“

you touch both of them until tears spring to the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill down their cheeks as they writhe and squirm in their seats. you suck your inner cheek between your teeth and bite down to resist the desire to torture their parts until they’re too fucked-out to form a thought. you’ve done it before, and it backfired when they weren’t able to stand up afterwards. all limp and shaky. maybe another time.

you slow your movements and slide your fists off of their shafts with a wet squelch, both of them curling inward from the oversensitivity.

“good job,” you croon, “didn’t realize you both were so pent up.. look at my hands..”

you hold up your messy palms to show them what they did. they look up with vacant stares, still breathing heavy and lost in the aftershocks.

“what do you say, hmm? you know what i need to hear.”

art lolls his head to rest on your shoulder and moans lowly, chest rumbling. patrick leans forward to sigh against your neck.

“thank you,” you hear on your left, “thank you so much,” follows on your right.

you smile.

“you’re welcome.”

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Feat: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Lilia Bonus: Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Malleus

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s face was almost as red as his hair, not out of anger but rather…

[Oh my gooodddd, stomp those tiny feet again, Riddle! Give me that pout~]

Really… should he do it again? Out of nowhere? Well, let’s take a walk to where you clicked then…

[Yaahhh!! So cuteeee!!!]

Well at least you didn’t think him badly for being angry out of nowhere… whoops, he wasn’t supposed to idle like that.

Ahh, why are you moving on to another character? Cater? That good for nothing? The naughty ADeuce duo? He's almost turning from red to green in envy!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was supposed to be ticked to the brim but definitely not with you. His ears are red from your nonstop rambling while you keep on poking his avatar right on his ear.

[I wonder how it feels like to play with his ears, ah, maybe I should help you clean it too?]

Don’t. Twitch. Ears. Else the player might notice this and question this one new idle.

[Thinking back, I kinda wanna try stepping on his tail like Yuu too~]

Don’t. Swish. Tail. What? Is he a masochist or what? Well, if it’s for you then he wouldn’t mind it.

Wait wait, why are you checking out Ruggie and Jack now? Hey, what do you mean Ruggie has cuter ears and Jack has a fluffier tail? Why do they look so proud? Are they asking to be minced?

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul might break out of the avatar restraint now. You’ve been talking about how you want to squeeze the kid him, round and plump, you quoted.

Why did you find his past appearance adorable?

[Honestly, I kinda want to lift him and his hiding spot and boil him as a takoyaki filling]

Now that made Floyd and Jade snickered. Azul was internally panicking but his avatar did not show him breaking a single sweat.

[Or maybe gather all his ink whenever he cries]

For your pen?

[But I do think squeezing his plump octomer form is the best~ Oh well, he had lost all those baby fats]

And back to how you ramble about his round self again. This was supposed to be disheartening but why was he blushing?

Wait wait, don't look away from him, no! Why are you going to Floyd? And Jade too? He knew Floyd won your heart but allow him to worm into your heart at the very least. Please let one of his three hearts rest in you!

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was nodding non-stop at your ramblings, or should he say, wishes. He was really happy that you were taking him as your magic lamp!

[And then, I want you to lace my body with lots of glitters, made of gold!]

No hard task, he just had to grind all that gold into some sort of fairy dust for you!

[Oh! And I want to try swimming in a pool of golden coins like Uncle Scrooge! I wonder if it'll hurt and uncomfortable as I think...]

He was in the same boat with you. You'd have to be careful when diving into the pool! But you can try sleeping on it though you should be careful, just in case the coins swallow you whole!

[And a carpet ride every night~]

Roger that! Tell him more of your wish, will you?

Eh? Why do you stop wishing? No! He will guarantee you that he will make it all come true! Please do not doubt him! Ah... it's because you two are in a different dimension? Screw this barrier that separates you two then.

Vil Schoenheit

Yes, he knew he was unworthy of your praises but he couldn't help but enjoy bathing in it!

[Look at your hair... and that make-up! Wow... truly is the fairest one of all!]

Oh please, no matter how much you compliment him, he could never compete with you beauty-wise! You would always be the true fairest one of all!

[Aha! Look at those heels too, contribute a lot to your height, and make you look so pretty!]

Even a prominent actor like him can't cover his natural reaction which was the growing blush on his face!

Eh? Rook? What does he have to do with him? Too in love with his words more than the beauty in front of you right now? No no no, you must look at him only and no one else!

Idia Shroud

If anything, he was glad his hair did not turn pink! From the way you kept on poking his avatar and patting his head, it made his heart tickled. He was no longer stuttering because the system wanted him to, but because he himself was nervous!

[Oh, show me that one illustration... Kyaaa! Why must you be so cute biting on your sleeve??? It's so inviting!!!]

Ah? That one? He couldn't help but feel embarrassed as you zoomed into his face and examined his hair. Truly, this was too much for his heart!

[Oh oh, and your masquerade costume is so pretty! It makes you look so pretty ffs!]

Ah, it was pretty uncomfortable to wear but he's glad he didn't take it off, not like he can do that anyway. The system won't allow that after all.

Everything feels nice so why are you changing character now? Wait wait! Have you checked his other card? No no no, why is that little shortie fae here? Don't close on him, please! He might want to try hacking your phone soon!

Lilia Vanrouge

Oya? You'd like to dress him up? Kukuku, looks like green and pink would work well on him~

[And... I think we can try curling his long hair, can we change the hue from red to pink like a color wheel?]

...Curling his hair didn't sound bad. Maybe he should try it sometimes and see if it suited him.

[Oh! And I'm gonna hang him upside down like the bat he is! My cute little bat, let's fist-fight!]

You really are an enigma huh? One moment is a sweet and docile lamb then the next moment you are a bull. Hm? Malleus? Why talk about him so sudden? Didn't you say he is your number-one favorite from Diasomnia? So why are you looking at someone else now?

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

Floyd Leech

God of Shrimpy~ Keep on poking him, he loves it! Ah, you love his teeth? And his droopy eyes? And his laugh? Hehe, you really love everything about him huh?

So why do you even bother looking at the others? He's going to hug you tight for this silly!

Jade Leech

Ah, he is quite the gentleman, no? Hm? You'd like to keep him as your butler? Why that is quite the generous idea that you allow him to manage your daily life~

With a small dose of love potion in your daily tea every day, he's bound to have you in his arms soon, well, if he ever finds a way to pull you into this twisted wonderland.

Jamil Viper

It truly is an honor to be considered as someone reliable (from babysitting Kalim) and acknowledged as an attendant who could shield you from any danger, truly. He is ready to put his life in line for you so why?

Why are you saying that there's someone else who might fit the position as your attendant more than him? And that person being that slimy eel no less!

Rook Hunt

Ah! This is amazing! To be able to charm you with his words and let him worm into your heart is truly a blessing! Would you like him to write you a poem detailing your beauty?

No no, mon chèri, you shouldn't grace those who are unbefitting of it, don't you think it's a waste to spare the other your grace? Allow this hunter to save you from that trouble.

Epel Felmier

H-huh? You want to dress him up? Naturally, he hates being treated as a doll, a girl no less! But... the idea of you helping him dress and helping him with makeup... he can do this. It is your way of gracing him after all...

Huh? You want to dress Lilia up too? Why? Because he's cuter? Oh no, there's no way there's someone who is prettier than him, look at him, look at how pretty he is in this dress!

Malleus Draconia

If anything, he will always hear you compare him and Riddle to the 'Queen of Heart' and 'Maleficient' from your world. You will praise him for being able to stand on the same level as the actress' beauty which makes him feel giddy.

But boy is he sulking when you start rambling about Riddle and the big-headed Queen. You will dote on him and Riddle back and forth.

Can't you just dote on him?

[vienssunshine]

Pay Up

pairing: Sevika x fem!reader nsfw: dom!Sevika, bondage/rope, noncon elements wc: 4k author's note: happy i finally got this posted yay! description: oh no, you don't have the money, however will you pay sevika back~?

“Rotten luck, boys,” Sevika gloats, tossing her cards down on the table. An ace and a king. Royal fucking flush.

The cards twist in your grip. You were watching her so carefully, entirely certain she was bluffing. Damn it, the booze must’ve gotten to your head. Or maybe it was her. You last remember admiring the shimmer-infused scars that crackle up her dark skin rather than searching for tells. 

With pressed lips, you reveal your hand to the table. Only a jack and a nine.

The other men who had folded look pleased with their decision, frustratingly so. The only other player dumb enough to bet against Sevika splays out his cards and brings his cup up to his rat-like snout to soothe the pain of losing. 

Sevika’s mechanical hand sweeps your mountain of chips to her side of the table. What were you thinking, going all in for a jack and a nine? 

One of the men who folded uses his metal cane to stand up and hobble over to the liquor cabinet. It was tradition that after every night of gambling, the final game would be rounded off with a shot of abergin, a mix of Zaun’s best hard liquor and a drop of shimmer. It tastes like battery acid.

The other loser pulls a brown pouch from his coat pocket and counts out ten golden coins. He slides them over the table. 

Sevika recounts the payment as the rest of the group cheer at the arrival of a bottle and complimentary shot glasses. 

Sevika takes the abergin and messily pours all the drinks full. Together, you clink glasses and take the shot down. The hot liquid pours down your throat, burning it, but does little to distract from the anxiety tightening up in your chest. 

“Let’s hit The Last Drop,” one of the players calls out. 

“Or just down the street,” the rat-man slurs, “I could use some special company after tonight.” 

“Hah!” The other one pushes the drunken loser’s shoulder. “And how will you pay with all your money gone?”

“I suppose I’ll have to ask nicely.” 

The group erupts into drunken laughter, smacking each other hard on the back as the abergin floods their system with good feelings.

It doesn’t do the same for you, however. You’re sweating, fingernails digging into your knees as you force a grin to keep up appearances. Maybe if you sit here smiling like everything's fine, Sevika will forget you’re yet to pay her.

What a naive thought. She chuckles along with everyone else, but her gaze soon settles back on you. It’s predatory, like an alligator watching its meal from an inch above the waterline. “Still waiting on you, pretty,” she says, “How else am I going to treat us to a round at The Last Drop?” 

The group whoops at the idea, glasses in the air.

“Right,” you agree, awkwardly laughing. 

You pull out your pouch from your bag and shudder at its light weight. Not bothering to open it, you slide it over to Sevika. “I’m…I’m sorry, but I’ll have the rest later.”

The laughter dies down immediately. 

“You don’t have the money?”

“No, I do, I do have the money. I get paid tomorrow, really.”

Sevika’s mouth twists into a scowl. 

You try again to placate, “I’ll have it all to you by next week. I promise, you have my word.”

“Next week?” she snarls. She turns to the rest of the table, “Have I not beaten it into you all yet?”

The other players are all looking down at their drinks.

“Debts are always repaid the night of,” she states, her mouth in a hard line.

“I know, Sevika, I know…and I’m sorry.”

Sevika pushes her chair back away from the table. “Everyone, out.” She walks around the table to your chair, placing a heavy hand on the back of it. Your fingers tightly grip the bottom of the wooden seat. 

The rat-like man grins, tilting his head. “Aww, c'mon Sevika, you’ll let us watch, won't ya?”

Sadistic freak.

Though, it was typical that Sevika beats the shit out of anyone who owes her money right then and there. It’s meant to make an example out of those who tried to fuck over Silco’s people. 

Yet, Sevika denies his request. “Go get a table at The Last Drop. I’ll be there soon.” She leans down next to you, her face close to yours, “Depending on how stubborn this one will be.” 

The men file out, and as they pass, you don’t fail to notice how each one has a scar, wound, or bruise staining their skin, all from gambling, betting, and promising money they didn’t have. Those marks are supposed to be a lesson, and it’s clear you’re about to learn it. 

Sevika drags you out of the room, down a hallway, and through a door you’ve never been past before. It’s a bedroom, evidenced by the cot with unmade sheets piled atop of it sitting in the corner of the room. There’s an armchair with a side table and a light in the other corner, and right by the entrance, next to a coat rack, is a wooden desk filled with paperwork. Sevika pulls off her red cloak, revealing a tight black tank that hugs her upper body, and drapes the fabric over the coat rack. It’s Sevika’s bedroom.

One step and she’s reaching for the chair under the desk, spinning it around, and pushing you down into it. The door slams behind you. 

“Sevika–” you start, but then she’s rummaging around in one of the desk drawers and pulling out rope. “What are you–”

She gets behind your chair and pulls your arms back, bonding your wrists together with the coil of rope.

“Hey! Not so tight,” you complain, but she finishes the second knot anyway. Then, she begins going through the drawers again. 

“Sevika, I really think we can talk this out, okay? This isn’t necessary.”

Sevika finds what’s she’s looking for and sits down in the arm chair diagonal to you. It’s a small case, and from it she pulls out a stone and a knife. 

A knife? Sure, you can take a few punches, but what the fuck was she planning for with a knife? She’s really that mad?

Sevika runs the knife along the whetstone in slow, rhythmic movements, sharpening it to a finer point. Each grind of the knife sinks your heart deeper into your stomach. 

“Come on, Sevika. You don’t need to do this.” 

She doesn’t look up.

“I thought we were friends,” you try. That’s one way to describe it, though it leaves out the crush you’ve developed since you started running in Silco’s circles. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika responds, “You know the rules.”

Her uncloaked bicep flexes as she moves the knife over the stone. It’s almost fully sharpened. Crush or not, you’re not letting this woman slice you up. 

“Yes, I know, but I will pay you! I just need more time.” 

She brings the knife up off the stone and runs her finger along its edge. Satisfied with her work, she puts the whetstone back in the case and closes it. 

“I need to be repaid tonight.”

Sevika walks to the desk and opens the drawer. The knife remains in her mechanical hand.

Fuck, you’re so fucked. You got caught up in the drinks, the gambling, your idea of a night out on the town with Sevika. You should be partying with the rest of the group at The Last Drop, not strapped to a chair and cut til you bleed out all over Sevika's floor.

She places the case in the drawer. 

That’s if they even made it to The Last Drop, usually the snouted drunk and Sevika get side-tracked at the brothel. 

The drawer slams shut. 

An idea pops into your head. There’s another angle you could try.

“I can pay you tonight,” you blurt out.

“Yeah? With what money?”

“I’d be paying you…in another way.” 

With her back to you, she stills. Then, she scoffs. 

“You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” She turns around and leans back onto her desk, palms flat on its surface, fingertips brushing the handle of the knife. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” you respond, looking up at her. You don’t let your eye contact waver, you can’t.

“No, you don’t. You’re—you’re not like that, sweetheart.”

“What, you don’t think I would be good?” You frown. “Am I not pretty enough?”

“No, no, you’re plenty pretty. I just don’t think you know what you’re doing, offering your body up like this. To me.” 

“I know what sex is, Sevika.” You roll your eyes. 

Sevika crosses her arms, leaning back on the desk. “Sure, but you don’t know what sex with me is like.”

“Well, I’ve thought about it before,” you quip.

That might’ve tipped your hand too much; this deal doesn't work if you get something out of it too. You shut your mouth and wait. Maybe she won’t realize your mistake. 

Sevika smirks. “You’re bolder than I thought, pretty. Should’ve realized that when you went all in on a jack and a nine.” 

“Fuck off,” you say, eyes dropping down to the ground. 

Sevika takes a step forward and crouches down in front of the chair. Blade in hand, she brings the point to the bottom of your chin, forcing it up so you’re back to looking at her. “Tell me what you thought about.”

Her mouth snarling curses into your neck, biting and sucking on the tender skin. Her hand on your back, pushing your face into the mattress as she fucks you. Crying out her name as she greedily laps at your dripping cunt. 

“Well?” she asks. You take a breath, face hot. It’s disorienting, how the same person in your fantasies is waiting to hear about them in real life. 

The knife presses up into your skin. 

‘Bold’ she called you. You can be bold.

You open your legs and wrap them around Sevika’s waist, pulling her into your lap so her face is level with your rising and falling chest. “One thing I’ve thought about is…”—your eyes flick down to hers—“how it would feel to…have you kiss me here,” you say. 

Sevika holds your gaze, her eyes darker than they normally are. They look dangerous, similar to when she found out you didn’t have the money. Though there’s a difference this time, but you need to be watching closely to notice it—the undercurrent coursing beneath her gaze, something fierce, something that wants.

Sevika’s eyes break from yours to wander back down to your chest. Her right hand releases the blade—it clatters to the floor—so her fingers can find your waist. She runs them up your side, past your ribs and breasts, to find the neckline of your shirt. She pulls it down slightly, exposing a few centimeters underneath your collarbone. “Right here?” she asks, running her thumb over the skin in slow circles.

“Yes,” you whisper back, body stiff and hot. Your chest is tight like the rope around your wrists. It’s hard to breathe, to speak. 

She moves closer and you can only squirm—away or towards her you don’t know. God, you do really want her to kiss you, want to know what it’s like to have her lips on your skin. 

Then she laughs, a dark, slow chuckle. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Either to get out of your punishment, or to fuck me.” 

“Sevika,” you say.

“Which is it?” she drawls, playing with your neckline. 

Brain fogged by desire, you’re in no condition for mind games. So, rather than trying to figure out what the right answer is, you respond truthfully. 

“Both. I want both.”

“Honest girl,” she coos, “I have to reward that, don’t I?”

“Mhmm,” you get out, “Please.”

Sevika leans forward, hot breath ghosting your chest, and kisses her lips to your skin. It’s a light touch, but the effect is significant, a warm tingle spreading through your entire body. Your legs slacken, releasing her waist, and your feet return back to the floor.

She retreats and looks up to your face, her lips curling when she sees you looking back down at her, mouth slightly ajar, panting.

“Was it like you fantasized?” she asks. Her voice is lower and deeper than before, the sound coated with desire. 

“Sevika–fuck–that was–”

“I only kissed you,” Sevika says, chuckling softly as she runs her hands along your thighs. The touch makes your skin buzz. 

“I know, I know just, please, Sevika,” you say, “Untie me.”

Her eyelids lower. “You’re the one who owes me, right? So we’ll play by my rules.” 

Sadistic freak, she’s enjoying this. 

Yet, you are too. It’s hot that she’s getting off to your struggle, even if it is, at the end of the day, still a struggle. You groan, shoulders falling. “Right…okay,” you respond. “Your rules.”

“I’m curious now, how you’ll react to other things.” She leans down and presses a gentle kiss right underneath the end of your shorts. You gasp quietly, leg tensing up.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you goad, shifting your weight from one hip to the other, desperate to have some agency in this interaction. You want to touch her, feel her skin on yours, run your fingers through her hair. But there’s nothing you can do with your hands behind your back.

She returns to your chest, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone and down to your neckline. The lower she goes, the more your hands strain against their bindings, desperate to break free and wrap around Sevika’s broad shoulders and pull her further into you. 

Her human hand finds your waist as she kisses you, running up and down your side, while her mechanical hand grips the back of the chair, its mechanisms whirring in your ear. 

Sharp breaths leave her mouth every time she pulls back from her sloppy kisses, a small groan as well as her fingers squeeze your waist.

“Sevika, please…this is—fuck—” 

“Damn it,” she mutters, and then her hand pulls down one of your sleeves, and then the other, so your top pools around your midsection. Instantly her face is buried into your chest again, kissing the exposed space between your bra. Her hand falls from your shoulder to your right breast, squeezing and massaging it.

You groan, eyes fluttering as she sucks a mark onto your chest. Each press of her lips does more to soften to core in your stomach. Then she’s kissing along the border of your bra, which doesn't remain an obstacle for much longer, her fingers lifting the straps over your shoulders. Her right hand reaches behind your back and unclasps the garment from your torso. 

The bra falls from your breasts, and Sevika sits back to look at them, eyes roaming over your panting chest in admiration. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathes. Her right hand travels over your breast, thumb circling your peaked nipple. 

You moan, pushing your chest into her hand. You just want to keep touching her, to keep ‘paying her back.’

“Can’t believe you were hiding such a pretty body all these nights,” she comments, hand running down your ribs, making you shiver. 

“It was always yours for the taking,” you respond, “Like it is tonight.”

A strangled noise comes from Sevika’s throat, and her hand tightens on your side. “Wish I'd known that.” She kisses your nipple. “Would’ve done this ages ago.” 

Sevika makes her way down your torso, touching and kissing as low on your belly as your folded-down top allows. Then her hand is on your shorts, unbuttoning and tugging them off by your waistband. You raise your hips so she can pull the shorts and underwear off, leaving you bare on the seat. 

Sevika brings your knees up so they rest on her shoulders. The metal of her left shoulder is a cold underneath your leg, though the small air vents of the mechanism ghost your leg with puffs of warm air. Her hands cradle your ass, protecting you from the discomfort of sitting on the wooden chair—the metal of her mechanical fingers somehow the preferred alternative. 

With you in her hands, Sevika’s able to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your hip, bringing out a gentle roll of your lower body. You’re enjoying how much closer her attention has gotten to where it needs to be. 

She licks down the V-line of your pelvis, lighting up your skin with her wet tongue. 

“Shit–ah,” you groan out, “Please go lower.”

“Fuck,” she swears back, “You’re so—” she doesn't finish the sentence, instead inhaling through her nose, indulging in the scent of your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” she repeats.

She kisses the bottom of your mound, just above where your lips split to encircle your pulsing cunt. Only a few more centimeters south and–

Sevika turns her head, instead kissing your quivering inner thigh. 

“Sevika,” you whine, fingers curling into fists behind you. How you wish you could do something about this.

She smiles against your flesh. 

“Who’s paying?” she reminds you and your pleas fall silent. 

She returns to your inner thigh, using her big, calloused hand to push your legs open. Then she presses a few more messy kisses to the skin, her eyebrows furrowed and her dark eyes closed. Her hot breath and wet lips are encroaching on your warm center.

A few more kisses and she’s at the part where your leg meets your body. You hold your breath.

Then, her eyelids flutter open and she looks over your glistening folds. Her mechanical hand moves to your lower back, taking on your weight, so she can draw her human hand from beneath you to right in front of your cunt.

Please. Please please please pleasepleaseplease—

The pad of her thumb runs over your folds. You gasp. “So needy,” she says, eyes connecting with yours while she gives you a crooked smile. 

“You’re making me like this,” you say. Your hips grind into the contact her hand provides until she suddenly pulls away. You bite your complaints back and watch her with desperate eyes. She’s testing you again. 

Her eyes roam over your poor, squirming body. She notices the sheen of sweat covering your half-clothed torso, the gentle pants leaving your lips, and the way your hips continue to roll into a phantom hand. You’re a pathetic mess for her. 

“This isn’t even for the money anymore, is it?” she observes. 

“No,” you get out, voice cracking. “If I had the money, I would pay you to continue.” 

“Hmm.” She moves her face to your cunt, pressing a gentle kiss to your folds. “You don’t need to worry about money with me anymore.”

Silco’s right hand, sweet on you. This changes everything.

Your tightened mouth opens and a breathy moan comes out. “T-thank you.”

Sevika pushes her face deeper into you, bringing her tongue out from her plush lips to lick a line up your warm center. You throw your head back, letting out a strangled moan of her name.

Her mouth is warm and wet, and her tongue rolls over all parts of your vulva, stimulating every nerve. Tingly pleasure seeps into your lower body, spreading up through your stomach and down into your legs. 

Sevika’s human hand wraps around your right thigh, fingers pressing into the flesh, ensuring your legs stay open for her. 

Her hold proves helpful as the stimulation becomes more intense, hindering your inclinations to push the growing pleasure away. It’s like a fierce vine rapidly growing up a ladder, tangling within every organ and bone, tying itself up into you. You writhe around, trying to shake it free, but its grip only grows stronger, tendrils thicker and more twisted. 

Sevika tilts her chin up and licks and sucks on your clit. Your whole body tightens in response to the shock wave it sends through you. 

 “God, Sevika…feels so…ah, fuck…”

How does she know how to make you feel this way? It's never been like this before. Not with yourself, or any of your past hook-ups. Her mouth is superhuman. 

“Right there, please, yeah right there,” you moan, gyrating against her grasp on your lower body. Heat clouds your head, burning away your thoughts. 

She groans into your folds. She’s too good at this, fuck.

“Taste so fucking good,” she says into you. She feels so fucking good.

You wish you could knot your fingers into her hair, be the one pulling it back out of the way instead of the hair tie. But all you can move is your lower half, so you focus on it, grinding your hips against her mouth, pushing your center into her lips and tongue. It smears your wetness all over her chin and nose, but she doesn’t care, keeping her face buried into you, fucking you with her mouth. 

The vines threading through you tighten and throb, and with each lick of her tongue and jolt of your hips, brick by brick you’re being built to your peak.

“Fuck, Sevika, oh my god,” you moan her name out sweetly, begging for what you need her to give you. “I’m gonna–”

You rut into her mouth, chasing that building feeling that’s pressing forcefully up into your insides. 

“Give it to me, baby,” Sevika commands.

It hits you in fierce, undulating waves. Your arms lock up behind the chair as your hips thrust up into the warmth of Sevika’s mouth. 

You cry out, cursing her name, eyes pressed shut. The pleasure is hot and violent, taking over your body in a way you didn’t know possible. It flows through your muscles, flexing and releasing them as your body endures the storm of pleasure.

Sevika moans into your cunt, the vibrations only adding to the intense sensation. “God-fu-how my-” you moan nonsensically. 

Your hole throbs, pushing the pleasure out through our body until the fierce wave retreats back into the ocean. It leaves you buzzing. Your jaw hangs, hot breaths rushing out. The world around you doesn’t feel real. 

Sevika lowers your legs back to the ground. They’re entirely limp and fall open. You don’t have the energy to bring them back together. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” She pulls up her black tank to wipe her mouth, flashing her hardened abdomen.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “yeah…yeah I guess so.” You throw your head back, chest heaving. 

Sevika puts her hands on her knees and stands up. Then she walks behind you, fingers running over your shoulder as she passes by. You go to lean into it before it’s gone, and the ropes around your wrists slacken, falling to the floor. 

You bring your hands into your lap, slowly rubbing the angry indentations left on your wrists. They’re uncomfortable, but the pleasure has faded the pain. 

Sevika’s eyes watch your face. “Still up for The Last Drop?” She grins. 

With effort, you sit back up in the chair. “Yeah, okay,” you say, attempting to pull your top back over your breasts, “Just gimme a sec—”

“Don’t know how you’ve made it this far,” she says, scooping you up in her big arms, “believing everything someone says.” She walks you over to the cot in the corner of her room and lays you down on it. “We’re staying here.”

You crack a smile. “But they’re probably losing a bar fight right now without you.” Sevika joins you on the mattress, and you turn onto your side to face her. 

“They’ll have to figure it out,” Sevika says, “‘Cause I wanna be right here.” Her hand hovers over your face, hesitant for a moment, but then she runs her knuckle down your cheek. “With you.” 

You place your hand on her waist, dipping underneath the fabric of her tank. “What if it costs you?” you tease. 

She smirks. “I would’ve paid triple what you owed me.” She brings your hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to your fingers. “Just for this.” 

“Stop it,” you say with a smile, pulling your hand away and giving her a playful push. “I will pay you back.”

“You already did,” she says, drawing you into her arms.

“Okay,” you snuggle into her chest, “Then, next time I’m actually going to.”

“I look forward to it.” 

[brittle-doughie]

BRITTLE

I want Customer cookie so bad.

(btw​ Cobalt cookie is a dude??​ Thought he was some kind of mafia girl boss like Capt ice cookie until I hear his voice and gaADDAM)

“Pardon me, fair merchant. You wouldn’t happen to have a Midnight Lotus on you, right?”

Both the Customer Cookie and the Rich Merchant Cookie were surprised by your sudden appearance.

“Ah! Forgive me, but the Midnight Lotus is a rare, special kind of plant! I can only offer it to you if you’re-“

“If I’m a VIP status cookie, I got you. Oh well, I guess the garden in my kingdom will have to incomplete~”

You feigned your disbelief with a wrist to your forehead. The Rich Merchant perked up at the mention of your kingdom.

“Pardon me, but did you say your kingdom?”

“Yep, you heard me right. I’m the ruler of that kingdom, even if I don’t look like the part. I’ll respect your policy, merchant~”

The rich merchant stuttered in his words with your inflection, trying to gather his thoughts in order!

“Wait, y-your majesty! I had no idea you were a ruler, please forgive my mistake. You can have a Midnight Lotus at half the cost!”

“Well well, you changed your tune fast. I won’t pass this up, so I’ll take you on your offer!”

You handed your bag of coins in exchange for the plant, leaving before the merchant realized you still bought the Lotus from him full price.

You took the plant and handed it over to the Customer Cookie, who was shocked to see you just give it to him!

“W-what?! You’re giving the Midnight Lotus to me?”

“Yep, you can have this, I bought it specifically for you.”

Customer Cookie hesitated to look at you and then at the plant, before slowly taking it. He looked at the plant for a bit before a smile dawned on his face.

“T-Thank you, uh…”

“Y/N Cookie.”

“Right, yes! Thank you, Y/N Cookie. I’ll never forget this.”

“You better, that still costed quite a hefty coin!”

You both share a laugh as you parted to head back to Golden Osmanthus Cookie,

Customer Cookie looking at the plant in his hands, before hugging it close to his chest, pink slightly dusting his cheeks.

In a way, the plant reminded him of you…

[forcemeanakin]

Right where you left me.

•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.

Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.

Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾

You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength. 

Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now. 

On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth. 

Bingo. 

Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer. 

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.

“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly. 

Oh. 

“Training ran long?” You hoped.

“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance. 

At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.

Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed. 

So far, you had failed in your mission. 

“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile. 

“And how’s life outside of work, baby?” 

And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.

“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses. 

“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed. 

Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you. 

You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date. 

The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like. 

And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you. 

Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it. 

But you wanted to try. For you.

For him.

As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session. 

Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.

So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.

“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”

His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.

“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene. 

“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart. 

You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-

“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.” 

Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low. 

“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”

The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior. 

Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .

And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough. 

“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”

You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?

“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.

But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message. 

“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers. 

That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in. 

“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”

I guess.

“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.” 

Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat. 

He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”

You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape. 

“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes. 

He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.

It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.

“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”

The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done. 

The day of his usual drunken nights. 

Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke. 

Exactly at the time he would always contact you. 

And you?

You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.

Every day since that day. 

Right where he left you. 

[blufblucake]

⋆˙⟡ Wildest Dreams | Chapter One

Paring: Starscream x GN!Human!Reader.

Trope: Fated mates.

Warnings: This story will eventually contain sexual scenes, so MDNI. Potential sensitive topics addressed in the story will include a trigger warning before the chapter.

Summary: You have a quiet, ordinary life; a normal job, a few good friends, and a wonderful fiancé you're set to marry in just a few weeks. However, the normalcy of your life begins to unravel when you start having strange and inexplicable dreams about a certain red-eyed Seeker. From that moment on, everything you once felt sure about no longer means anything at all.

Word count: 2,8k

Next chapter

❝He's so tall and handsome as hell He's so bad, but he does it so well And when we've had our very last kiss My last request is❞

Author's Notes: Hi to everyone who might’ve stopped by to read my story. I would like to start by saying that this is the first fanfic I’ve written in five years, and english is not my first language, so I’m a little nervous, haha. The fanfic was originally written in my native language and later translated into english, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know, it would help me a lot. Enjoy the reading! :)

⋆˙⟡ Chapter One

After a long day at work, all you wanted was to get home quickly, take a relaxing shower, and sleep for the next twelve hours. As much as you loved your coworkers, you just weren’t in the mood to go out for drinks. The wedding preparations had been taking up all your free time, it had been weeks since you last stopped to read a good book or simply be alone, in silence, in the comfort of your own home.

Weaving your way through the crowd, you hurried down the subway stairs. If you managed to get there a bit earlier, maybe you could find an empty seat — which would be a miracle, considering it was rush hour. You leaned against one of the pillars, pulling your backpack around to the front of your body. People were flooding the station, some busy on their phones dealing with their own problems, others looking lost as they tried to follow the maps posted on the walls. Near a snack vending machine, a gray-haired man in a long black coat and a pair of red gloves played a drum skillfully, hoping to earn a few coins. Not far from him, a woman dressed in worn-out clothes and a funny hat danced enthusiastically, not caring who might be watching. A tired smile tugged at your lips at the sight. Maybe, if you were a little more carefree and joined her in dancing, things would feel just a little bit easier.

As you notice the subway approaching, you quickly straighten yourself and walk toward the platform. As soon as the train stops and the doors open in front of you, you step inside and immediately look for a place to sit. You spot an empty seat not too far away and hurry to claim it before someone else does. Once seated, you can finally relax — it would be a journey of just over thirty minutes, so maybe you could take a quick nap.

Throwing your head back with a loud sigh, you close your eyes and massage your temples with your hands. Who were you trying to fool? Every time you closed your eyes and surrendered to sleep, that same pair of red eyes invaded your dreams. Unusual eyes, not human. But for some reason, they were strangely attractive. You had lost count of how long you had been dreaming of that being. You couldn’t focus on their face; it was as if everything was covered by a thick mist, and the only thing lighting the way was their crimson eyes. When you woke up, you didn’t remember much, only carrying that strange feeling with you for the rest of the day.

As you open your eyes, your gaze quickly falls on the engagement ring on your finger. The medium-sized, oval-shaped diamond matched well with the golden metal, simple but beautiful. You had been with your fiancé for three years; he was caring, gentle, loving, and thoughtful, making you feel loved and desired. He was obviously the right and safest choice. You had never doubted that… Until now. Since the dreams began, a sense of unease had consumed your heart day by day. It felt like this wasn’t the right thing to do, like your fiancé wasn’t the right person. And guilt was beginning to eat away at you more and more as the wedding date approached.

The invitations had already been sent, the vendors had been paid and wouldn’t refund at the last minute, your family members were starting to travel to your state, all excited about the big day, ready to celebrate with you. Even so, a persistent voice screamed in your mind, telling you to give it all up. You didn’t have a plausible reason for it; you just felt that this was, somehow, wrong. The soft voice of the woman on the subway announcing your station echoed through the train's speakers, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You quickly stand up and head to the doors. As they open, you step out of the train and walk through the station toward the exit. Before you can take the first step on the stairs, your gaze is drawn to a small purple card lying on the ground. Curious, you bend down and pick it up, carefully inspecting it. Fortune teller, divination witch, learn about your future. The words on the card make you smirk slightly. You couldn’t say you fully believed in that sort of thing, but you weren’t entirely skeptical either. Deciding it might come in handy, you tuck the card into the back pocket of your jeans.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

You step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body while drying your hair with another one, walking toward your bed. As you sit on the soft mattress, you notice your phone vibrating, indicating that a message has arrived. A smile forms on your lips when you see it's a message from your fiancé.

‘Good night, my love. How was work??’

‘The same as always, honey.’

‘Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange lately...’

‘I’m fine, just tired. The wedding preparations and work are draining my energy.’

‘I get it, babe, but it’ll all be over soon. I can’t wait to finally become your husband. I’m going to bed now, good night, babe. I love you!’

‘Good night, me too...’

Your hands fall onto your lap, guilt twisting your stomach. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say you loved him back. It wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair. You felt like crying. Why was this happening? Why, suddenly, did you feel deep down that he wasn’t the one?

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you stand up and put on your pajamas, determined to try and sleep quickly, praying that, at least for one night, you wouldn’t dream of those haunting red eyes.

Unfortunately, for your bad luck, as soon as your head hits the pillow and you drift into sleep, you find yourself surrounded by thick mist. Your bare feet touch the grass, instinctively leading you in one direction. You didn’t know where you were going, but your heart screamed it was the right way.

The fog didn’t let you see a step ahead, so when your body suddenly collided with something solid, you prepared for a fall. But the fall never came, abnormally large, firm hands caught your waist.

Slowly, your gaze traveled up the body of that being. For some reason, you couldn’t focus on his features — everything seemed blurry — but you were sure of one thing: he wasn’t human. He was tall, much taller than anyone you’d ever met, and when your eyes finally locked with his, a wave of euphoria consumed your body. Those same red eyes, intense, glowing.

This time, you managed to focus a little more, noticing his features. He was handsome, different from anything you’d ever seen, yet still handsome. His harsh expression softened as he studied your face, and before you could do anything, you felt him pull your body closer to his. And you didn’t stop him, didn’t protest, didn’t even feel guilty. Because it felt right. He was right.

When you wake up the next morning, an emptiness grows in your chest. For the first time since the dreams began, you managed to notice more than just his eyes. Everything felt so real, it was as if you could still feel his strong arms around you.

Then your rational side takes over. This was wrong. You had a fiancé, an incredible one who loved you unconditionally and whom you would marry in just a few weeks. You needed to forget about this and focus on reality because these dreams were just that, dreams. Dreams about someone who wasn’t even human. Your brain must be really fucked up to create something so surreal, and your fiancé was the right one. Soon this would end, and you would enjoy your honeymoon on a beautiful tropical beach far away from here.

You get out of bed and walk around your room, tidying up the mess from the night before. You had come home so tired that you had simply tossed your clothes somewhere. As you pick up your jeans to fold them, the purple fortune teller’s card falls out of the pocket where it was kept. When you pick it up, you examine it once again. A witch, huh? It wouldn’t hurt to pay them a visit, maybe the cards could rub in your face the wonderful future you were supposed to have with your fiancé.

Determined, you finish tidying your room and start getting ready. Once ready, you head downstairs to the kitchen. You didn’t have dinner last night, and your stomach was growling, begging for something. When you open the fridge, you see it’s practically empty, you needed to do some groceries. You’d stop by the market after visiting the fortune teller. It was a nice day outside, and it would be the first weekend you weren’t busy with wedding stuff.

After breakfast, you pack a bag with a few essentials and leave the house, heading to a bus stop. Checking the address on the card, you notice it’s not far from your neighborhood. Coincidentally, the first bus that arrives goes that way, so you get on.

The ride is peaceful, nothing but a few noisy teenagers in the back of the bus and a chatty old lady starting a conversation with you about how beautiful the day is. When your stop arrives, you get off the bus and start walking toward the address. After a few minutes, you reach a house. It’s just an ordinary house, maybe even a bit boring, not at all what you would imagine for a witch’s home.

You walk up to the front door and knock a few times, but there’s no answer. You even wonder if you got the right address, double-checking the card. A tired meow catches your attention, and you look down to see a black cat stretching on the ground. His green eyes are so intense they look like two emeralds, and his fur is so shiny it could spark envy. Lazily, he walks over to you, brushing against your legs, purring as he rubs his head.

You crouch down a bit and scratch his ears, giggling when he pulls your hand to his head with one of his paws, not letting you stop petting him. “Hey, little guy, you clearly have an owner. If you didn’t, I’d take you with me...”

Suddenly, the cat gets up and walks toward the house. For some reason, the door is open, but you didn’t hear anyone unlocking it. As the cat crosses the threshold, he stops and looks back at you, meowing incessantly, almost like inviting you in.

“If you insist...”

You walk up to the door and knock again, out of politeness. “Excuse me, the door is open... I’d like a card reading...” before you can say anything else, a soft voice calls out from a room, “Come in, please. I’ve been expecting you.”

It all seemed strange, but for some reason, it didn’t scare you. You step inside and close the door behind you. Now it did look like a witch’s house. The maximalist decor, filled with statuettes of deities, crystals of all sizes, plants everywhere, and the strong scent of incense was exactly what you expected. You walk into a room, pushing aside a curtain of lilac beads. In front of you, the fortune teller is sitting at a round table, a cheerful smile on their face.

“I knew you would come. I had a vision of you.” they says excitedly while shuffling tarot cards. “What do you mean you knew I’d come?”. They laughs and gestures to the chair in front of them for you to sit. Hesitantly, you pull the chair and sit down, resting your bag on your lap. “Nothing happens by chance, my dear. I had a vision of you coming here. Now tell me, what troubles this poor little heart of yours?”

Contrary to all common sense, you feel comfortable with the witch. You imagined they said this sort of thing to everyone who came here, yet strangely, you felt welcomed. “I’d like to know about my love life.”

A faint smile appears on the fortune teller’s lips as they continues shuffling the cards. “My dear, I need you to be a bit more specific. The answers depend on your questions. The more precise, the more detailed the answers...”

A lump forms in your throat, and your stomach twists at the thought, but you need to ask this question. “My fiancé... Is he the right one? Should this wedding happen?” they stops shuffling, focuses for a moment, then begins laying out some cards. When six cards are arranged face down on the table, they places the rest aside and starts revealing them one by one. You don’t know what any of them mean, but you watch their expressions anxiously.

They looks at you and smiles mysteriously. “What a situation you’ve gotten yourself into, my dear...” you shoot them a confused look, silently begging for some answers. "Your fiancé is a wonderful person, but he’s not meant for you. You have a fated mate. A soulmate. Whether you want it or not, you won’t end up with your fiancé. I can see you've been dreaming about this mate of yours, and I can assure you, you've also been invading his dreams." They lets out a laugh. "My dear, I see a lot of trouble in your future. I advise you to prepare yourself. This wedding won’t happen, he won’t allow it!"

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

As you wandered aimlessly through the forest, your thoughts drifted back to what the fortune teller had said. After that, you simply got up from the chair and demanded that they draw the cards again, but they just smiled and said the cards never lied. At least didn’t charge you for that nonsense. How could you be so foolish to believe any of it made sense? A crazy person living alone, telling lies to idiots who came to them.

That session had ruined your day. As you furiously walked through the forest floor, you kept muttering how wrong that lunatic was and how your fiancé was the right man for you. You had come to the forest hoping that being close to nature would help you calm down, but, as if things couldn’t get worse, nature seemed determined to eat you alive. You were already covered in mosquito bites and had lost count of how many times you'd tripped over branches and rocks.

A loud noise pulls you out of your miserable state, and when you look up at the sky, you see something falling fast, leaving behind a trail of smoke. A helicopter, maybe? Thinking someone might be hurt, you start running. Judging by the sound, the crash couldn’t have been far.

It doesn’t take long before you find a trail of upturned earth and fallen trees. Not far ahead, a metallic structure lies on the ground. It didn’t look like a helicopter, but someone could still need help. As you carefully walk toward the object, you start to notice its colors more clearly, and a tingling sensation spreads from your head to your toes. As if with a will of their own, your legs carry you closer and closer to the thing.

However, when the thing starts to slowly rise, growing massive and standing on two legs, you freeze in place. It was definitely not a helicopter. The metal being straightens itself, and your breathing becomes erratic as your eyes scan its body. A giant metal robot, covered in scratches, with what looked like a broken wing hanging awkwardly. When your gaze rests on its face and you see those crimson eyes, you stop breathing. It was him.

The being that haunted your dreams and disturbed your mind. Your mouth falls open in utter shock, and you’re paralyzed. Was he real, or had you finally succumbed to the mosquito bites and were now hallucinating, passed out somewhere on the forest floor? But when you realize those eyes are staring back at you, all the air trapped in your lungs escapes in a high-pitched scream. Freed from your shock, you turn and start running the way you came.

Heavy footsteps reverberate through the ground, and your heart beats so fast it feels like it might explode. The sensations were far too real to be just a figment of your messed-up mind. Your escape is cut short when an explosion nearby throws you violently against a tree. In that instant, the air is knocked out of you, and all you can hear is an irritating ringing and muffled sounds. Your head throbs like hell, and your vision is blurry. Was this really the end? Left alone in the middle of a forest? Visiting that fortune teller had definitely not been a good idea.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the reading. I may not be the best writer, but ever since I joined the fandom, this urge to write and share my ideas has come back, and it had been a long time since I felt this way. In my native language, we don’t have a gender-neutral pronoun, but I really wanted to keep some characters’ gender ambiguous so that as many people as possible can feel included. I hope I didn’t make things too confusing when translating. :)

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, Alicent and Haelena were sent to Oldtown, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit. 

Some other notes: This is dark, Rhaenyra is in her Paul Atreides era, and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

This is a rough teaser chapter to see if there’s any interest in this fic so if you like it please reblog it or leave a comment! Feedback is how I write :)

Chapter One: the fate of a flea. 

 “I heard she fed her husband to Syrax!”

 “I heard she burned the last two wives!”

 “She's going to choose me, there’s no doubting that.”

 “ Yeah, to be her cupbearer!”

You tried to block out the chatter of your employer and her daughters and concentrate on mending one of their hems, but each bump  from your place on the floor of the rickety carriage, made it near impossible.  

“Hurry up Flea, we’re almost there!” One of the daughters said, her slipper meeting your ribs to make you go faster but you dared not complain. 

You would have been there an hour ago but the decision to take the carriage was not your own. You would have much preferred to watch the dragons arrive with your mother in the market, far from the crowds that propelled them towards The Red Keep. 

 You needed the coin and being some rich lady’s maid who couldn’t afford the proper ones with training but could afford you instead kept good bread on the table. 

Or at least it did.

The Lady hadn’t paid you in two weeks.

  “Remember to smile when you’re presented before the Queen, smile and be silent. Perhaps if you do well, she’ll want two wives instead of one and we’ll never have to rewear a gown again. New gowns and maids who actually know what they’re doing.” The Lady said and you didn’t have to lift your gaze to know she was staring at you.

  “Don’t worry Flea, you’ll have a place in the dragon queen’s court. We’ll put in a good word with the ratcatcher!”

All three of them exploded with laughter at that and when the carriage came to a sudden stop you were too happy to watch them slide all over the carriage.

  “I’m sorry mistress, this is as far as I can go.” The driver said.

The daughters adjusted themselves before leaving the carriage, ignoring their mother’s calls to wait for her,

It was now or never.

“My lady, I need to speak with you.”

  “You’ll stay in the carriage, the queen need not see you.” The Lady said, starting to move towards the door.

  “My lady, you have not paid me. I have waited and waited and happily assisted with all the preparations but I cannot go home without coin today.  Please, my mother needs me, I’ll take half if you have that right now but we have no more bread.” You said quietly but firmly.

   “You haven’t earned your pay for the full day yet so we’ll discuss this no further.”

    “My lady, my mother is-

    “Your mother will have to make do as the rest of the smallfolk do. Perhaps she can have that bowl of brown I always hear about. I’m sure she’ll-

You’re not quite sure what happened next but it ended with The Lady dead on the carriage floor, her neck at an odd angle, face bloody and concaved.

You sank to the floor beside your dead employer, your fearful cries went unheard as the sound of Syrax’s roar filled the air around King’s Landing.

Queen Rhaenyra had arrived.

Her daughters would see you dead for this, your mother would starve, your life was lost.

Unless it wasn’t.

As luck or the gods would have it, The Lady bled into her own hair and not a single drop had spilled on the crimson colored gown. 

It seems you have time to finish the hems after all.

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

The same question had been asked of every lady in front of you who entered the throne room and each dismissed moments later either by Princess Rhaenys, the Hand of The Queen or Queen Rhaenyra herself. You could not bring yourself to look at the queen each time the doors opened and closed, a single glance in her direction would bring you to further ruin.

Both The Lady’s daughters could not see you but you could see them each leave the throne room in tears. 

A chance to be queen would not be the only thing they would mourn today. 

The doors opened and you found yourself escorted into the throne room. 

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

You looked at the dragon queen in all her beauty and might upon the Iron Throne and instantly it all became clear.

You would not leave this room in tears. 

  “I wish to be anointed.”

the story continues here.

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

[captain039]

PART 2 Two sides of a coin

Viktor x reader x Jayce

Jayvik

Warnings: Age gap, student/teacher, swearing, abuse, physical, mental, fat shaming, bullying, older Viktor, Older Jayce, plus size reader, reader has chronic pain, possessive Viktor, needy Jayce, sexual, smut, bondage kink, spanking, kinda dark, modern AU

Previous part <-

You manage a week of getting lucky, slipping out, and coming home late without your dad waking up or meeting any of his bed partners. This morning though you wake up a little, sleeping through your alarm your body feels like a pile of weights. You sit on the edge of your bed it’s a Monday morning, you cleaned the house on Saturday and now you’re paying for it. Not that your dad would clean or do anything anyway, you had to earn your keep to stay there. You stand slowly and it feels like someone put the world on your shoulders, your hips ache, your shoulders ache, everywhere really. You manage some speed of brushing your teeth and hair before styling it and getting dressed. You grab your bag and keys before heading to the door. Only the coffee maker is on and you tense in the hallway. There’s a woman’s voice as well and your father’s low murmurs. You grip a strap or your bag and bravely walk out, heading straight for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” You tense and turn to face your father who wears nothing but boxers. The woman has nothing but one of his shirts on as well. She’s new, you haven’t seen her before, not his typical hookups.

“The academy, to school,” you say.

“School? What are you fucking stupid? You finished school” Your dad’s eyes narrow and the woman behind him giggles a bit her eyes venomous.

“It’s to broaden my career options,” you say hoping he’d leave it. But it just makes him more annoyed as he stalks forward.

“Where the hell did you get money huh? You going to college?” He glares.

“No, it’s free and it isn’t a college,” you say your backpack hitting the door.

“Then what the hell is it? You whoring yourself around huh? Trying to get male validation because you look like a fucking pig?” God his breath smells like liquor as he crowds your space. His hand slams the wall beside you and you flinch.

“Answer me!” He yells.

“No, Dad, please it’s going to help me get a job,” you say your hands trembling but you clench them into fists.

“Damn right it better, you fucking fat-free loader, eating everything in this goddamn house, this is my house! You’re a guest here remember that!” He yells before slapping your face harshly. It makes your teeth clench together as you try not to make a sound. He turns to walk away and you think you’re free till a hard foot goes to your hip as you turn. This time it makes you cry makes you crumple against the door struggling with the knob as the woman laughs. You finally manage to get out of the house biting back tears at the flaring pain in your hip. God it feels like it’s broken, you limp to the bus biting the inside of your cheek before sitting down. You whimper at the pain hand over your mouth to quiet yourself your other hand resting against your hip. His hits always hurt more, everything always hurt more. You don’t understand why you’re always in pain like you’re not suffering enough. You’re late to school, and Professor Viktor is your first teacher which makes you internally groan. You got a note from the office, saying you hurt yourself over the weekend and couldn’t walk as fast. It’s a lame excuse but your limping makes it more believable. You walk into his class quietly his golden eyes snapping to yours. You hand him the note without a word afraid that another groan of pain will come out as you limp to your chair and sit down. He continues the lesson without looking at the note discarding it on his desk, you take out your things, you did the right thing getting a note, he’s just a prickly bastard.

God your hip, you can’t sit still trying to find a comfortable position so it doesn’t scream in pain. You stand up before packing needing to stand straight, but it just makes another shot of pain go down your leg. Fuck. Don’t cry, not in front of the professor, he’s the last person you want to cry in front of. Everyone’s gone though and you’re shaking. You can’t stand much longer before falling back into your chair, another spike. Your hands are fisted tightly, nails digging crescent moons in your palms. You jolt when there’s a hand on yours that’s fisted on the table. You stare at the professor as he unclenches your fists and examines the indents with a gentle touch.

“I’m going to give you five minutes to explain why you’re in pain, and it isn’t a normal injury” he says his eyes calculating, but there’s a strange warmth in them. You start to pack your things away before speaking.

“I’m fine, really, sorry” Why’re you apologising? You never remember anymore, you’re always doing something wrong, might as well apologise for it.

“Well, since you missed the start of the lesson you missed out on a crucial part, I need you to buy these books from the school's website” he hands you the list, you nod taking it and putting it in your front pocket.

“Have a good day” you say before leaving. By the afternoon the pain is dulled to a throb, and you sit near the back your eyelids barely staying up. Your body feels like it’s going to collapse. You try to focus on Mr Talis’s voice but fail, you rest your head in your arms and your eyes drift shut.

Jayce watches you, he received a message from Viktor, that you were late today, injured, in agony by what Viktor saw. You sit stiffly, eyes unfocused he doubts you’re even absorbing anything he’s saying with your half-closed eyelids. The moment your head hits your arms you’re gone and something in his heart quickens at the sight. Sure he’s had students sleep, but only because they don’t sleep at night, usually up studying, playing games or partying, you though, you looked genuinely exhausted like your body was going to give out. Once the rest of the class leaves he comes to your desk, his heart picks up your eyes closed, mouth parted slightly as you breathe evenly. Your body is still stiff though and he wonders where exactly you’re hurt, Viktor said you were limping, your leg? Sports injury? Having too much over the weekend? He doesn’t realise his hand is hovering by your face till you stir. He snaps his hand back as your eyes open, body jolting, hands braced on the table. He sees it then the look of pain he’s seen in Viktor too many times and something tugs in him.

“Evening” he offers a smile but you look genuinely mortified with yourself.

“Hey, easy, I’m not mad, saw you were struggling the moment you came in here, didn’t miss anything I can’t email” he says hoping to soothe your frazzled self but it doesn’t help, you’re shoving your things in your bad apologising and shaking?

“Everything alright? He asks worried and you force a smile and nod slinging your backpack on your shoulders, he doesn’t miss the strain in your eyes and jaw, he knows the look of hidden pain too damn well with Viktor. You say goodbye and he waves you back watching you limp. He studies the limp, it’s your hips, it’s exactly the same way Viktor walks when his hips hurt, only you’ve got a lot more body to shake and his lower abdomen clenches at the sight before he’s looking away and runs a hand through his neat hair. He meets up with Viktor his mind reeling a little he hasn’t really noticed a woman in a while, not with him and Viktor, but you… you stir something.

Viktor’s at his desk staring at a note a little too hard making him smile and forget things for a moment.

“You’re gonna burn it with that look” he grins but Viktor doesn’t relax.

“How was she?” The question makes him falter.

“She fell asleep in my class, looked ready to pass out, I let her have the last twenty minutes” he explains closing the door behind him and walking to Viktor’s desk to lean against it.

“She was stiff, in pain, but it’s the same look you get, the same hiding of pain, she’s had for years” he sighs running a hand through his hair again.

“That’s what I’m worried about” Viktor mutters lying the note down. Jayce peers at it, it’s an office note explaining why a student is late, her late note.

“V, what’s going on?” Jayce says and Viktor sighs leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t know, I can’t figure her out, all the other students are easy and stupid hormonal things, she’s too quiet, too on her own and in too much pain to be at school” Jayce watches Viktor’s jaw and hands clench before he sighs. Jayce kneels carefully in front of him, Viktor’s knees parting to let him closer. Viktor’s hand comes to his hair gently running through the strands. Jayce rests his head on his inner thigh breathing him in.

“I won’t lie to you Viktor, she stirred something in me I thought I only felt with you” he admits feeling his hand stop and then continues.

“Me too” Viktor murmurs, confirming his thoughts, they need this girl.

Next part ->

[cosmicaura7]

PEDRO PASCAL MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

UPDATED : 6/8/25

Please make sure to read my rules and guidelines. Comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist for whenever I post new stuffs! Thank you and enjoy! (PS: All moodboards and banners are made by me)

BLURBS

Eating you out

Sucking him off

Breeding Kink

Threesomes

SERIES

So Reddit... AITA?

CLINT FLOOD (FREAKY TALES)

--- coming soon ---

DAVE YORK (THE EQUALIZER 2)

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Lesley from Mobile Legends inspired fem reader) In where after being saved from the hands of death, Dave York finds himself living a new life in a secret underworld organization.

DIETER BRAVO (THE BUBBLE)

TAKE TWO

SYNOPSIS : In where you and Dieter Bravo, both Oscar award winning actors, have been casted in Javi Guttierez' newest R-Rated film project.

SHORT N' SWEET (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Popstar!fem reader) In where a global sensation popstar is in need of a leading man for her newest album and was surprised to see an Oscar award winning actor auditioning for the role.

DIN DJARIN (THE MANDALORIAN)

MISCHIEF AND CHAOS

SYNOPSIS : (Claude from Mobile Legends inspired fem reader) In where a skilled thief and her monkey companion manages to steal a small weird green looking foundling for a bounty mission and find themselves being hunted by the Mandalorian.

BESKAR AND EMBERS (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Firefly from Honkai Star Rail inspired fem reader) In where two of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy find themselves hunting one another.

EZRA (THE PROSPECT)

--- coming soon ---

FRANCISCO "CATFISH" MORALES (TRIPLE FRONTIER)

WHOLE PACKAGE BABE, I LIKE THE WAY YOU FIT

SYNOPSIS : In where Francisco Morales is still a virgin because of his rather large size. That was until you came along.

WEEKEND GETAWAY

SYNOPSIS : In where you and the rest of the boys took a weekend road trip to a cabin in the woods, but Frankie is looking more forward in getting you all to himself during the trip.

HARRY CASTILLO (THE MATERIALISTS)

--- coming soon ---

JACK "WHISKEY" DANIELS (KINGSMAN : THE GOLDEN CIRCLE)

THORNED ROSES AND WHISKEY SHOTS (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Yor Forger from Spy x Family inspired fem reader) In where the agents of Kingsman and Statesman decided to visit their sister company, Glaze Lilies, for a joint mission.

TILL THE END OF THE LINE (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes inspired fem reader) In where Whiskey's supposed dead wife has returned. But this time as an enemy and is out for his blood.

JAVI GUTTIEREZ (THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT)

TAKE TWO

SYNOPSIS : In where you and Dieter Bravo, both Oscar winning actors, have been casted in Javi Gutierrez’ newest film project.

JAVIER PEÑA (NARCOS)

WANNA TRY OUT SOME FREAKY POSITIONS?

SYNOPSIS : Have you ever tried this one? In where Javier Peña receives a gag gift from Steve Murphy for his birthday, a kama sutra book.

LIPSTICK STAINS AND CIGARETTE SMOKES (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Clover from Totally Spies inspired fem reader) In where a new agent has been transferred to Colombia to work alongside Steve Murphy and Javier Pena to take down Pablo Escobar. And she wasn't what they were expecting.

JOEL MILLER (THE LAST OF US)

COME RIGHT ON ME, I MEAN CAMARADERIE

SYNOPSIS : In where Joel loves the sight of his pretty little wife all filled up by him.

WE'RE THE MILLERS (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : Come witness the lives of the Miller Family.

BUILT BY TRAUMA (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Levi Ackerman from Attack on Titan inspired fem reader) In where two people hardened by the apocalypse crosses paths.

STROKES OF FATE (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Rafayel from Love and Deepspace inspired fem reader) In where Sarah Miller secretly signs up her father and uncle to come with her to the after school art session with her favorite art teacher.

LUCIEN DE LEON (THE UNINVITED)

--- coming soon ---

MARCUS ACACIUS (GLADIATOR II)

THREADS OF FATE (PART I)

SYNOPSIS : (Megara from Hercules/Greek Mythology inspired fem reader) In where the general of Rome captures the princess of Greece.

A PREDATOR'S GAZE (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Medusa inspired fem reader) In where Marcus Acacius finds himself thrown into a hidden ancient temple after he was arrested for conspiring against the Senates of Rome. The great general soon finds himself face to face with what many thought was a mere legend lost to history, the serpent woman with a gaze that can turn any mere mortal who looks into her eyes into mere stone.

MARCUS MORENO (WE CAN BE HEROES)

--- coming soon ---

MARCUS PIKE (THE MENTALIST)

--- coming soon ---

MAX PHILIPS (BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS)

BLOODSTAINED SPREADSHEETS

SYNOPSIS : (Nanami Kento from Jujutsu Kaisen inspired fem reader) In where an exhausted accountant finds herself in the claws of her vampire boss.

MAXWELL LORD (WONDER WOMAN 1984)

--- coming soon ---

OBERYN MARTELL (GAME OF THRONES)

THE RED VIPER'S INSATIABLE WIFE

SYNOPSIS : In where Oberyn's pretty wife can be insatiable most of the time, and he's more than happy to indulge in her desires and fantasies.

THE WHITE KNIGHT'S SECRET (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Darling Charming from Ever After High inspired fem reader) In where the Princess of the Evermore Kingdom has a secret.

WHEN THE NORTHWIND MEETS THE SOUTHERN SANDS (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Stark!Fem Reader) In where the second daughter, the infamous Winter Princess of the North, of the Stark House has been betrothed to the one and only Red Viper of Dorne.

PERO TOVAR (THE GREAT WALL)

THE DANCING PRINCESS AND HER SELLSWORD

SYNOPSIS : (Princess Genevieve from Barbie : 12 Dancing Princesses inspired fem reader) In where two mercenaries find themselves hired to guard 12 princesses.

TRULY YOURS

SYNOPSIS : In where Pero Tovar is obsessed with his pretty wife.

FEATHERS AND BLADES (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Odette from Barbie : Swan Lake inspired fem reader) In where a Spaniard finds out that his missing lover has been cursed to turn into a majestic swan whenever the sun sets.

REED RICHARDS (FANTASTIC 4)

THE CLASH OF GENIUS MINDS (coming soon)

SYNOPSIS : (Ishigami Senku from Dr. Stone inspired fem reader) In where two of the greatest minds on Earth find themselves unable to stand each other.

TIM ROCKFORD (MERGE MANSION)

--- coming soon ---

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Eyes Black Like an Animal

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, smut, choking, degradation, rough sex. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: When Daemon returns covered in blood from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, his wife requests that he uses her to ease his anger. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The steam from the bath she has had the chambermaid prepare curls upwards from the water, dampening the bare skin of her neck as she leans over it to pour in the scented oils, the precise ones she knows Daemon likes.

This is their nightly routine. He will be back from his duties as commander of the City Watch soon and, ever the dutiful wife, she always has a bath awaiting him, so that he can wash away the grime of the city.

The heavy wood of the door to their chambers slams loudly against the stone wall, the noise echoing off of the vaulted ceilings, causing her to startle. Her head snaps up, eyes widening as she takes in the sight of her husband.

He stalks through their apartments, his expression a glower, ichor splattered across his face. His hands are bloodied and there is a darkened stain across the breastplate of his armour. His golden cloak seems to be the only thing that has escaped the gore that decorates him.

Rushing to him, she takes his face in her hands, only to be gently pushed away as quickly as she touches him.

“Leave me,” he says sullenly, unclasping Dark Sister from his sword belt and leaning it against the wall.

“You are hurt,” she protests as her arms drop slowly back to her sides, her brow furrowing in concern.

“It is not my blood,” he snaps, dropping his helmet down onto the settee with a clatter, before striding over to the bathtub and rinsing his hands and face.

She watches the blood float through the water like tendrils of silk, her mind racing with thoughts of the terrible fate someone has likely met at the hands of her husband this evening. When Daemon straightens again his face is clean, but his dark and angry demeanour remains.

“What happened?” She asks gently, eager to reach for him but knowing her touch is the very last thing he wants when he is in this mood.

“I executed justice,” he tells her, drying his face and hands, “but that is not the problem. My brother gave me an army of two thousand men to command, yet his cunt of a Hand feels it is his right to dictate the punishments I see fit to serve.”

There it is; Otto. Daemon’s rivalry with the Hand of the King had been a bitter one ever since Otto had convinced Viserys to remove Daemon from office when he was Master of Coin, and again when he was appointed as Master of Laws.

Daemon has flourished in his new position as commander of the City Watch since being awarded it, yet he is at constant odds with Otto regarding the harsh punishments he exacts on the criminals of King’s Landing.

“He had the audacity to compare me to Maegor the Cruel,” he continues, and she can see the anger within him rising once more as his gaze darkens and his nostrils flare.

She takes a tentative step forward, eager to calm him down, not wanting him to ruin their evening with his foul temper. “My love, you know his words are untrue. Pay him no mind and allow me to help you out of your armour.”

He shakes his head, turning away from her. “You are better off leaving me alone tonight. I have no kindness to offer you.”

Taking another step towards him, she speaks quietly. “What if it is not your kindness that I seek?”

His head lifts, half looking over his shoulder at her as his eyebrow raises in curiosity. “And what is it you do seek?”

She swallows thickly, her pulse racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. “I want your anger, your frustration, all of it. Take it out on me.”

Daemon turns fully, closing the gap between them slowly, a predatory glint in his eye as he looks down at her, leaning in so close that his nose brushes against hers. “Are you fully aware of what it is that you are asking for?” He whispers, his breath fanning hotly against her face.

Her core throbs in anticipation, thoughts of how roughly Daemon manhandles her in the throes of passion swirl in her mind, making her feel lightheaded with lust. “Yes,” is all she is able to utter.

“Very well then.” His hand reaches around the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging gently so that she is forced to meet his eyes. “And what is it you say should you wish to stop?”

“K–kelītīs,” she stammers, arousal making it feel as though there is fire in her veins.

“Good girl.” He gives her hair another gentle tug, before grasping the back of her neck and pushing her towards the bed. “Lay down. On your back.”

She does exactly as she is told, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the accelerated breaths of her excitement.

Daemon grabs hold of her by the ankles dragging her until her backside just barely rests on the edge of the mattress. Still fully clad in his armour and golden cloak, he reaches for the dagger that remains sheathed upon his sword belt. Her breath hitches as he withdraws it, a shiver running through her body, whether it is from fright or anticipation she is unsure. The Valyrian steel shines in the dull light of the bedchamber and when he brings it down upon the neckline of her nightgown it moves through the material like fingers through spiderwebs.

The dagger rattles with a metallic clink against the flagstone floor as Daemon drops it, pulling open the now two-slashed halves of her cotton shift to reveal her nakedness. A low noise of approval rumbles in his throat, the sound shooting straight between her thighs as she feels wetness gather there.

Daemon’s pupils are blown wide with lust, in the low lighting they appear almost black as he stares hungrily down at her. He leans over her, the coldness of his armour against her bare skin making her gasp. Her nipples pebble at the chilly sensation and, as though fully in tune with her body’s response to him, two of Daemon’s calloused fingers tweak harshly at one of them. It is a pleasurable hurt, one that makes her mewl piteously and arch against him.

“Wanton little thing,” Daemon rasps, “I bet you’re wet already.”

His other hand finds its way between her legs, cupping roughly at her mound before his digits spread through the slickness of her folds. Her hips buck, chasing his touch until he swats between her legs, causing her to yelp, the sensation sending waves of warmth throughout her lower belly.

“Don’t be greedy,” he hisses, pulling away to unfasten his trousers and push down his breeches, freeing his erection. He runs his hand up and down the length of it, eyeing her with an animalistic hunger, the slightest of smirks tugging at his lips as she instinctively parts her legs wider for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing forcefully inside, pushing apart her inner walls and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“Fucking take it!” He spits out, wrapping a hand around her throat, while the other grasps her hip, tugging her violently against him to meet each of his hard thrusts.

She is struck by the imbalance of power; she is bare beneath him, utterly vulnerable, while Daemon remains not just fully clothed, but clad in armour, free to do as he pleases to her. She clenches at the idea, causing him to grunt.

“Such a slut,” he pants, the smack of his thighs against hers becoming more insistent as he quickens his pace, his fingers applying more pressure to the sides of her throat.

She feels lightheaded, the only thing that seems as though it is stopping her from floating away entirely are the harsh, sharp thrusts that meet the end of her, causing her to wail, tears forming in her eyes, before trickling down her cheeks.

As Daemon’s hips begins to falter in their movements, the hand grasping her hip snakes between their bodies, his fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to lick at her lower spine. He presses down more firmly, making faster, tighter movements against her bud and she jolts, sudden warmth crashing over her in waves as she cries out, tightening around him.

With a groan, he stills, leaning over her, pulsating as he spills deep inside of her. For a few moments he does not move, simply hovering over her, careful not to crush her with the weight of his armour.

She feels boneless, weightless, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep. But that is not what Daemon has in mind.

As his breathing slows, he lifts himself to look at her, tenderly gripping her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her face towards him so that he can take in the sight of her tear stained cheeks, glassy eyes, and parted lips. The softness is a dissonant juxtaposition from the brutality he displayed just moments ago.

For the first time that evening, his lips find hers and he kisses her, slowly and sensually. She sighs happily into it, enjoying his closeness.

“Thank you”, he murmurs when he eventually pulls away. “Allow me to remove my armour and I will have another bath drawn. This evening we shall bathe together.”

As inviting as sleep seems at this moment, she knows that the offer from her husband is far more appealing.

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[nyxxxx-onepieces-dragun]

Ace Boyfriend HC

A/N: Js a bunch of fluff and random things that came to mind and its quite long but enjoy ;3 Characters: Ace x Fem!reader mentions of other characters aswell this is a SFW HC but I might make a NSFW one so stay tuned for that!

SFW HC:

When you first started dating Ace would love to give you sweet little love letters. It's sweet yet not too much and they would say something like "your my never ending thought, A."

definitely be prepared for the ultimate princess treatment. Oh your hungry? he's already running to Thatch asking demanding it be made for you right then and there, your feet hurt? no problem he'll just give you a piggyback or carry you bridle style.

I think Ace would be too shy to approach you despite his confident and gentleman appearance he just doesn't want to mess things up so instead he asks you out via letter that went along the lines of "Lets flip a coin. Heads, your mine. Tails I'm yours." he definitely didn't have Marco put it on your desk in your cabin

He loves physical touch it reminds him that he's not alone and your like the calm in his storm keeping him there and anchored.

Also if you want him to melt while you both are chilling in his cabin he's on his stomach sleeping soundly just go over and start massaging his back, bonus points if you dance your fingers over his Whitebeard tattoo, now its a daily thing for you and if you don't do it please do it he'll be all whiny and pouty "Y/nnnn~ please can you rub my back?? I promise just for 15 minutes!" you do it for about three hours hehe

He never ever takes you out on missions with him, afterall he is the 2nd division commander and he takes on some serious missions but when you do arrive on a new island you best bet he is right there at your hip keeping a protective arm draped over you and watching out for anyone who might try anything he's so golden retriever please love this man with all your heart

He's great at being big spoon and being your personal heater but he looooves being little spoon it makes him feel safe and calm in your arms as you run your fingers through his raven locks all that day's stress washes away and he feels content knowing that someone will always be there for him no matter what.

One time Ace tried to set up a romantic little boat date and everything was going great the moon was high up stars twinkling in the sky as you both ate fruit together he was sat across from you and before you knew it his narcolepsy kicked in and his face was now in your chest as he snored soundly.

At first you were confused and a bit flustered since he was so...close but you ended up just running your fingers through his hair waiting for him to awake and when he did...this man got redder than a tomato apologizing over and over again.

But the more frequently it happened the more bolder he got and at some point he would just stay there burying his face more into your chest which in return landed him slaps on the back of his head and scolding while you were a flustered mess "so comfy~ OUCH! it's not my fault I fell asleep!"

this is my first time writing I'll try to get better in the future but Thanks for reading this reposts are welcome just credit me! & <3

[kentoxo]

Heyy, I really like your writing style!!! and was wondering if your still taking requests, if so would you be willing to write something about higuruma? Like what of he's with Satoru's sister so she's kinda like Gojo, so maybe a sunshine golden retriever x black cat type of thing? If your interested ofc thank you :⁠-⁠)

currently no, BUUUt i have yet to write anything w higuruma so i'm more than excited to write this!

pairing: reader (f) x bf!higuruma

synopsis: you were the light of his life. the sun after the storm. you complimented his personality by not forcing him to change. this is how he sees you, albeit being annoying satoru's sister

a/n: thank you for this req! while im still writing another series and have them closed temporarily, this really helped me combat my writers block so tysm anon :)

He knew the waitress had a thing for him.

Out for his lunch, Hiromi found himself in a small cafe, in urgent need for a cup of black coffee. With his briefcase perched in your future seat, Hiromi sat with one leg over the other, newspaper in hand. He pulled out his tie a bit, relief surging through him from his untightened collar. Hiromi had just won a case, and he was exhausted.

The waitress made her feelings known, as she lovingly placed his cup down, with a side of a scone he did not ask for. "A sweet thing for your coffee," she offered, the sultry on her tongue disgusting him.

He nods his head, queueing her to continue waiting other guests as he grabbed the cup of coffee. Hiromi stared at the scone in detest, wondering why she would ever think that he would want such a sweet. His dose of saccharine was on her way, and he wanted to save his sweet tooth for your arrival.

The waitress came back after noticing he downed his coffee, her fingertips pressing firmly around the rim of his mug. "Another refill for you, sir?" She offers sweetly.

Hiromi shakes his head, never looking up at her, "no, thank you. And please feel free to take this back as well." He lightly pinches the rim of the scones plate.

She frowns but doesn't take offense, "not your favorite flavor?"

"I'm not taken by sweets," Hiromi hums simply, his eyes dragging left to right on the black and white paper. She hesitates, but takes the scone and walks promptly away.

The bell that hung right above the entrance wrung, and you looked around swiftly for your boyfriend. You see the spiky hair of your lover, and smile widely. You practically skip over to him, covering his eyes with your hands. Your hands were freezing, he noted mentally.

"Did my boyfriend have to wait long for me?" You playfully spoke in his ear. He shakes his head, the smallest of smiles itching the corners of his lips. He puts the newspaper down to take both of your hands into his. They were incredibly warm, his skin soft yet ornate with callouses. You could feel his fingertips twist playfully the gold rings on your fingers.

"Is it really cold outside?" Hiromi asks you warmly. He lets go of your hands and rises from his chair, quickly putting down the briefcase on the floor to pull out your chair. You smile bubbly, taking your seat as he slowly pushes you in.

"Just a lil," you say with a smile. You unwrap the scarf around your neck, hanging it on the corner of your chair. "Did you order anything yet, Hiro?"

He mentally smiles at the nickname you coined for him, "just a coffee. I waited for you so we could eat together."

"But you must be hungry," you say, pouting your lips. He looks up at you, noticing you softly jump in your seat from excitement. "Thank you for waiting for me, though! Let me get the menu."

As your eyes darted around the menu, Hiromi couldn't help but stare at you.

Never in a million years would he have imagined to encounter and court a woman like yourself. To join the world was already a weight for him, on top of his current 'normal' life as a struggling lawyer, it was relieving to have such a warm partner like you. Especially the sister of sorcerer-famous crackhead, Satoru Gojo.

But your energy was addictive. Never having a sweet tooth, he couldn't get enough of your sugary personality. Your smile was too inviting, while the way you spoke was enticing. Your beauty made his mouth water.

You made him feel like he didn't have to change in order to compliment your personality. In fact, you loved the way he was. Cold, shielded to others while he melted from your touch. He'd never laugh at anyone's joke unless it came to you. Then, his laugh was infectious. You were the funniest gal he had ever met, and for that he needed to cherish you.

"Do you know what you want, love?" He asks quietly, hoping he wasn't rushing you to decide.

You purse your lips a bit, putting down the menu to meet his eyes, "what are you getting?"

"A hamburger," Hiromi replies simply.

"Mmmm," you hum, your pensive expression melting his heart. Your eyes narrow down to his, a smile quickly forming on your lips. "Then I think I'll get the chicken panini! But I'll skip the fries and take from yours. Is that okay, Hiro?"

Please do. Take whatever you want from me, he thought. "Of course," he hums.

"I'll make the order, 'kay?" You say cheerfully, knowing that Hiromi wasn't a fan of ordering himself. He nods gratefully, taking the newspaper back in his hands to fold it up properly. As he did, you raised your hand to the waitress that, unbeknownst to you, had been serving Hiromi with intention.

The waitress holds light abhor in her eyes, covering it with a shit eating smile. "Welcome in," she says to you with a forced voice. She then looks over to Hiromi, "are you and your friend ready to order?"

Hiromi looks up at you after her striking words, noticing a sudden fire in your eyes. With a wicked smile, you put down the menu and smile widely at the waitress, "ah, yes we are!"

You look at Hiromi with a warm smile, winking at him before returning your challenging gaze at the waitress, "my hubby would like the double cheeseburger," you began confidently, "well-done, with cheddar cheese instead of American-- and no pickles." You knew him too fucking well.

The waitress rolls her eyes at the realization that you were his partner. Hiromi had to keep himself from laughing at your unwavering confidence.

As you said your order, you quickly give her back the menu, all smiles. Although you did not have the classic blue eyes like you should as a Gojo, your gray eyes glimmered with an icy glare that would make anyone shudder. The waitress was no different.

"Anything else?" The waitress asked, her voice small.

"Ummmm," you tilt your head left and right in thought. "Can I have a chocolate scone please?" The same as what she had brought to Hiromi. Of course, you did not know that, but it definitely brought a rare smile to Hiromi's lips.

The waitress nods begrudgingly, stomping away as you weaved your fingers together to rest your chin upon. Hiromi lets out a chuckle, "you're quite ferocious when you're jealous, doll," he says curtly.

"Jealous? Me?" You say with a innocent tone. Eyes are wide and dripping purity. "She never had a chance to begin with."

Those pink, soft lips form into that compelling smile of yours. That smile could wipe away all of his stresses and woes. The shine that always followed you in his eyes led the way to a happiness he didn't think was possible. You were the novocain to all his pains, and he wanted nothing more than to protect you for as long as he could.

"I won a case today," he murmured casually, waiting eagerly for your reaction.

Your eyes widen, lips apart with your fists shaking in joy. "Ah, because you're the best there is, Hiromi!" You cheer quietly. You take his hands into your own and smile, your light bringing a little too much joy to Hiromi's heart. "Congratulations, my love. I knew you were gonna kick ass today."

A rare smile appears, and Hiromi's eyes warm onto you. "Thank you, doll," Hiromi replies warmly.

Oh, the things he will do in order to maintain this bright, joyful life with you.

[anthaeum]

mona lisa.

love is when you try to make it out alive.

🏹 — wherein leo valdez realizes the absolutes in his life.

leo valdez x roman apollo!reader. enemies to lovers to exes to lovers (implied), set in the future, non canon-compliant. gn!singer!reader.

(not proofread.)

wc. 906

💭 : it's 3:22 AM and i have school tmr but this legit wouldn't stop bugging me until i posted it. the title is from mona lisa by dominic fike, listen to it here! please let me know your thoughts, comments, and any reactions through my askbox! enjoy reading 🤍

Leo Valdez knows there are absolutes in his life. 

One of them is metalwork. Smelting, forging, blacksmithing — the flames and heat of the furnace were never a nuisance to Leo when his nimble fingers and tools pulled and twisted at any piece of metal, whether it be the finest bar of gold or the lowest piece of scrap. The son of Hephaestus takes pride in his craft, displaying the tiniest coin he created or the biggest metal dragon he’s fixed on a glass shelf in the confines of his heart. 

His friends are one of them. He thinks of Piper, his sister, who he still cooks tofu for because she says "it's the best she’s ever had". There’s Reyna — and he doesn't tell anyone, but he’s glad he found a friendship in Reyna, someone he doesn't have to mind the language barriers around. There’s Frank, who trusted Leo with his life, literally and figuratively. He thinks of Jason, his best friend, and Leo counts him as two absolutes. 

There’s also the little things, too. He always runs maintenance checks every week, he ties the right shoe before the left, he keeps his loose change in his pant pockets, he wasn’t good at freehand engraving. 

Another, he thinks, is you. 

You, the sweet child of the sun. 

The radio echoes across the room, filling the quiet workshop with life. 

Leo Valdez, sweat-drenched and exhausted, stares down at the sheet of gold on his anvil. Engraved on its surface is a set of symbols he knew by heart — a harp, six lines, and the letters S, P, Q, and R. 

You, you, you, you. 

He remembers the first time he laid his eyes on you. He doesn't remember the way you knocked an arrow and aimed down at him; his mind’s eye just sees gold — in the shine of your eyes, your armor, the tips of your arrows, your aura, you.

He remembers the war's aftermath — his war specifically. He remembers searching through seas of orange, purple, bronze, and gold; none of them were his golden archer. 

He doesn’t know if he’s still dreaming when he hears your voice echoing through the radio. He stays still, eyes wide and unmoving, and it’s only until the radio croons a, “that was Yn Ln’s latest single, ladies and gentlemen!” does he snap out of his reverie. 

He remembers the taste of golden victory. Nights under starlight, conversations of the future, you (finally) in his arms. The stars shone faux spotlights on you as your singing lulled Leo into peace he hadn't known for a long while. 

You told him your dreams, your love for singing, and how you wished to be able to share your voice to the world. Suddenly, the taste in his mouth is bitter. 

Because here he was, in his workshop, listening to you, when he could have been celebrating you and your dream (now, your reality) instead. 

He puts his head in his hands as if struck with agony, the unfamiliar beginning melody of “another hit from the rising popstar!” playing on the radio and echoing through his mind. 

(Yet, Leo can't find it in himself to turn the radio down.) 

A walk would clear his mind, he thinks. 

Any attempt to clear his mind is futile. You’re all he sees. 

In the billboards, posters, street signs. 

You, you, you, you.

Leo stares. He stands and stares, unmoving, at the features he fell so in love with. He's transfixed at the way your eyes shine and crinkle at the corners, the curve of your lips as you bare your teeth into a grin. You look ethereal in this light, it would make Parisian paintings look over at you in envy. 

The same tattooed lyre he memorized peeks from above your gold-etched name. He wishes he could feel them under his fingertips once more. 

Anguish akin to the heat of hot iron crushes his chest. He feels the fingerprints of yearning litter his heart, indelible and engraved. This was your doing, Leo thinks; because, no matter how many times he tries to deny it, the same aching muscle has never once left the confines of your hand. 

(And Leo can't find it in himself to turn away. he can’t think of anyone else.)

Leo knows it’s only a matter of time. Passersby’s comments fall on his eager ears, and Leo’s heart only beats faster when he hears a, “they’ll be performing tonight!”

He tries not to think of the feeling in his chest, of the painful yearning and the jittery nervousness, as he pushes the door to the jazz bar open. 

When he hears your voice, oh so melodic and beautiful, he freezes. 

You’re under real spotlights now, shining and so golden under their light. 

You look at him, and Leo swears his heart stops.

Your eyes still shine the same. 

Leo Valdez realizes another absolute — you, in all your golden glory, would forever be his weakness. His heel tingles at the sound of the arrows you draw with your song, as if they’d home in on the one vulnerable spot on his flesh and leave him for dead.  

(And yet, he thinks you’ve done it. You, the one Leo Valdez sees in Parisian paintings. You, whose voice Leo Baldez hears in TV stations. You, the sweet child of the sun, who had pierced his heart with the same arrows that stared him down all those years ago.)

aaaa my first post ever ever .... hope u all enjoy !!!! reblogs are so appreciated, please tell me how u liked my fic 😞😞

© ANTHAEUM (2024). do not republish, edit, translate, or plagiarize my works.

[manicrouge]

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

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

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

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

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

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23.7k

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

[𝙰/𝙽]: THIS IS A REPOST !! But I worked really hard on this and it sort of flopped so I'm hoping that maybe it might reach some now people (it has been like 7 months since I posted this so it's basically new again).

HAVE FUN!!

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Even if we hurt them?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you hear voices.

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

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serelia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her hand disappears.

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

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

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

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

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

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

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

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

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

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

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

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

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

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

The current grows displeased.

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Sirens?'

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

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

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

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

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

The footsteps stop.

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

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

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

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

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

'Bloody lunatics.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

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

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

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

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

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

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

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

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

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

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

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

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

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

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

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

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes grow heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that real?

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

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

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

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

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

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

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

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

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

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

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

He's harsher than last nights current.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gaz. What an odd name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Won't you, Ghost?

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

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

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

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

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

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

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

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

You want to scream.

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

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

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

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

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Get some sleep,' he says.

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

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

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

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

The man in front of him grins brightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

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

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

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

He feels you tense in his hands.

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

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

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

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

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

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

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

Surely it's not that difficult.

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

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

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

'Can you help me?' you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be nice to her, hey?

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

'I'll carry you.'

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

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Careful,' he utters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

It's difficult to adjust to first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Why?' he eventually asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hold your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

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

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

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

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

'Simon?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death would be easier than this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He exhales deeply.

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood runs cold.

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

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

I'd like that too.

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

You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

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

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

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

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

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

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

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

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

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

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

Not even once.

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I've got work, love.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What's it about?'

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

He nods his head.

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

Your face is bright red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The keys fall from out of his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

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

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

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

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

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

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

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

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

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

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

You feel another finger against you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hear the shift of fabric.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm not going to last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

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

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

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

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

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I haven't hurt you have—'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

Has he left for work already?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

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

'You're an idiot,' you say.

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

'You're the reason—'

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart settles with the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'You my servant now?' you ask.

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

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

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

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

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

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

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

'She's dead!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scales.

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

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

Serelia.

The siren.

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

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

Your lover doesn't say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I know.'

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

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

Both of you do.

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

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

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

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

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

You mouth grows dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's difficult to say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you.

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

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

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

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

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

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

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

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

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

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

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

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

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

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

Foolish mortal men.

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

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

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

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[chthonicrose]

going to ramble in a deranged manner about aventurine hsr

spoilers for 2.1 msq

he doesn't hide the brand. he could easily wear a high enough collar that it wasn't visible--but something hidden is a weakness. if everyone can see it, if it isn't hidden, then it isn't a secret, it isn't leverage against him.

and maybe he isn't ashamed of it. it wasn't his fault he was enslaved, after all. and he won the bet. he wasn't sent to the gallows. he got of it what he could.

and he's still alive. still an avgin. are you the last member of your clan? perhaps. if any other children survived, are they like topaz, with no culture but the IPC? do they know the prayer to gaiathra triclops? and he knelt to press his hand to kakavasha's--he doesn't hate his child self. he remembers where he came from. he isn't ashamed of being sigonian, of being an avgin. the katicans destroyed everyone else, but he lives. and that's a blessing, right? he has the eyes, his mother told him, his father, his sister--he's lucky. he's blessed by gaiathra triclops. so this is luck, right? he survived. this has to be luck, that he lived when everyone else was lost. and he's never lost a gamble. (does he want to? what does he say, in the golden touch trailer--but life would be quite dull if it were just an unending series of wins, wouldn't it? does he want gaiathra triclops to take back her blessing? does he keep throwing the dice because he wants them to come up snake eyes?)

while I'm talking about the golden touch. the way it's framed, with baby kakavasha picking up the chip at the beginning at the end, the way he says 'you see'--teaching himself how to play the game, how to be the gambler. no one else will take care of that child, no one else is left.

what is it like, to see kakavasha in the theme park, happy, safe, his family just around the corner, just out of sight? is it worse to see a golden past than a cruel future, kakavasha harder to look at than "aventurine"?

kakavasha belongs to gaiathra triclops. aventurine belongs to the IPC.

there is no aventurine without the cornerstone. the cornerstone is shattered. and aventurine is dead. "dead". a gamble lost, or won. is there a way free on the other side of the dreamscape? did robin find it--robin who has no voice, robin who sings of gilded cages. what does sam know of the other side of the coin? firefly was there too. (hashtag firesam theory confirmed, save me robot girlboyfriend)

the way he pulls the gun in in the light cone animation. kill him. try it. (please?) a seduction, for the little death or the greater one.

anyway. I'm insane about aventurine I don't have a thesis I just have too many thoughts. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[actuallysaiyan]

Howling Storm(Shape-shifter!Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader)

warnings: mentions of abuse, arranged marriage, fantasy au word count: 1k pairings: Shape-shifter!Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader summary: despite you being promised to the prince of Starquake, your knight allows you to run off. you make connections with the wolves, especially the golden leader. and when you're kidnapped by the prince, a golden dragon comes to save you. a/n: for Prominence Smash's first challenge! found the banner picture on google, I don't own it.

The air is cold as you make your way along the path. At your side is Sir Yamada. He looks at you with that classic smile on his face, ushering you to continue walking.

You felt nervous. You’ve never left your kingdom before. Your betrothed lived in the kingdom closest to yours, but you had to make your way there first. The man in question, Prince of Starquake, was rumored to be unkind and malicious. You weren’t happy to be promised to him, but to make the land happy, you decided to go forth with it.

Just as you're about to turn the bend, Sir Yamada pulls you into the shrubs. He clamps his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. You rest easy against him, having known him your entire life. He’s been your knight forever. He would never hurt you.

“Listen to me, princess.” He whispers in your ear. It’s a stark contrast to his usually loud and boisterous self. “Run away. I will give you my dagger. Please, run away.”

You nod, tears filling your eyes. He was saving you from a nasty future. A future where you’d be kept locked up in the palace and used as a breeding cow. The kind of future where you’d never know happiness.

Sir Yamada hands you a sack of coins and his dagger. Then he hugs you tightly, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Be brave for me, princess. I know you can.”

He watches as you run off into the forest, and he knows that he has to make up some excuse for you. Even if it costs him his life, Sir Yamada will make sure you do not end up married to that damn prince. 

You run and run until you collapse on a pile of leaves. The forest floor smells of pine and dead leaves and moss. Somehow, it comforts you. Within realizing it, you just close your eyes and you let the sounds of the birds in the trees lull you to sleep.

You dream of wolves. Wolves racing to get to you. But the wolves, they do not hurt you. They pile on top of you, kissing you and licking your cheeks. They whine and howl for your attention.

When you wake up, you feel your cheeks a little wet. You touch them, wondering if maybe you cried in your sleep. But there’s a little voice inside you that says maybe those dreams were real.

With renewed courage, you continue running. You aren’t really sure where you’ll go, but you know you’ll be better off just being on the run. The sun shines so brightly and it feels so freeing to be out here for the first time.

You happen upon a den of wolves and you watch them carefully. They are all so beautiful. They play with one another. There’s a clear leader here, and you admire him.

His fur is golden and his eyes are so blue. You are thankful for your vantage point right now. They cannot see you, but you are able to observe them.

So you do this for a few days. You follow them on their hunt, thankful that you’re able to snag a few rabbits for yourself. Without any prior training, you think to yourself that you’re doing well to keep yourself safe and alive.

One night, you feel warmth next to you. You roll over to find the leader of the wolf pack nestled next to you. You reach out to pet his fur, loving the way he smells of flowers. He keeps you warm.

The following morning, you wake up to find the pack of wolves has gone. You do your best to try and track them down, but it’s almost to no use. They’ve left you.

You walk tirelessly through the forest. Eventually, you do collapse in exhaustion. You pray that someone will find you and take pity on you.

The moment you wake up, you regret that you prayed for someone to find you. You’re locked away in a room, and you recognize the insignia on the wall. You’re in the Starquake palace. The one place you didn’t want to find yourself in again.

The doors are pushed open and you see the prince. He looks furious. He berates you for going back on your word and abandoning him. You desperately beg for forgiveness, which he begrudgingly gives. But it’s not without consequence. 

From your room in the palace, you look out the window. You begin to imagine the wolves running around. How desperately you wish to see them again. Especially the leader. You felt such a deep connection to him.

The days and nights go by and you find yourself falling into a deep depression. You should have been smarter. Maybe if you had just gone to this palace in the first place, you’d have more freedom. And now without anyone you know or trust by your side, you’re even more isolated.

A big storm covers the kingdom with rain and wind. You look out your window, hoping for someone or something to save you. The prince grows even more weary and impatient, finding himself wanting to produce an heir even more despite you wanting to wait longer.

The windows are broken as a giant golden wing pushes through it. Then you see the snout of a golden dragon. It roars loudly at the prince, then picks him up by the scruff of his shirt. You should be horrified but this is what you wanted. You desperately needed to be saved from the abuse and the torture he put you through.

And like something calling you forth, you climb onto the dragon’s back. It flies off with you, and you can smell that flowery smell once more. It lands in an open field and you gasp when there’s a bright light.

There’s a hand reaching out to you from above. It’s connected to a muscular arm. The man has beautiful blue eyes, like the wolf. He smiles charmingly.

“There you are, my princess. I’ve been waiting.”

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