#my new Drabble

[gonardo-writes]

Fawn Rain in animal form was Bambi-esque, tawny fur and spots along his flank. Long, lean limbs and large sparkling eyes. Yes, a little uncoordinated at times, stumbling about in the bushes. Curious with a timid approach until he met human Phayu, who was with several other humans but he stood out the most. He would smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, making him look sad. It made Rain yearn to learn more about him.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

ring pop proposal ♡

fem reader, pure fluff, childhood friends to lovers lemme alone do not perceive me yk the drill by now, lil self indulgent fic cus i love childhood friends to lovers and puppy crushes, polar opposite’s trope, this reeks of my oc x canon katsu ship sooooo shh shh do not perceive.

the first person who realizes katsuki has a crush on you is his mom because when she comes to pick him up one day from kindergarten he suddenly mentions you. it’s an innocent little interaction he had with you that mitsuki doesn’t think much about at first, simply surprised her son managed to befriend someone outside of his little group of friends until he starts mentioning you more and more.

soon you’re the only thing he talks about and katsuki even starts begging her to have you come over to play. mitsuki is extremely curious to know what kind of person you are to have been able to enchant her son the way you have, she says it’s fine as long as your parents agree.

you’re a sweet little thing, almost the complete opposite of her little devil’s spawn. you’re polite and a little shy when you ask “ is it okay if i come to play at katsu’s house, please miss katsuki’s mom ?” and how could she say no to you ? she pulls at your cheek lovingly and her son almost snarls at her.

“no touchin’ !” he snarks, pulling you against him like you were his teddy bear.

mitsuki was the first to realize her son had a crush on you when you were always around. when he found something cool during a class trip you were there and whenever he was upset it was always because you had argued about something irrelevant that seemed so much bigger in the eyes of a child.

she realized because katsuki had, and in some ways, will always be rowdy. he’s rough and temperamental and moody—basically, he can be quite the brat. (she wonders where he gets that from a lot) but he’s different with you.

he’ll always be a little rough around the edges but it’s the thought that counts. he drags you around a little too hard but it's to show you something he knows you'd like and you repay him by being patient with him and letting him drag you around to his hearts content. he let’s you use the crayons he’d just denied another classmate seconds ago and when it’s really early in the morning and you’re still sleepy unlike your more energetic friend, he waits for you. sitting with you in the reading corner quietly commenting on a little bit of everything in the book you’re sharing until you’re awake enough to start the day because katsuki wanted you to be together through anything no matter what, starting the day without you was simply unimaginable.

you offer him your kindness and he repays you with his loyalty. acting like your guard dog, protecting you from everything and everyone he considers a threat to you. he goes a bit overboard but it’s the thought that counts and he’s definitely got the right intentions.

“ i’m g’nna marry yn when i grow up !” katsuki proclaims from the backseat of the car after mitsuki had come to pick him up. she looks at him through the rear view mirror only to see he’s not even looking at her, looking out the window somewhat longingly, watching as his school fades away from his sight, further and further and further away from you. she smiles to herself.

“yeah ?” she asks “yeah !” he responds proudly, crossing his arms “ i asked yn if she wanted to be my wife an’ she said yeah, so we’re gettin’ married !”

“huh. how’d you propose ? you don’t have a ring.” she jests.

katsuki responds immediately and exclaims he does have one, shuffling around to reach for something in his pocket. he pulls out a plastic ring pop holder, the candy on top is missing and mitsuki can imagine what happened to it.

“gave her one of these !”

“so that’s why you had me buy those from the store last time,” she hums. “ you ate it, though.”

katsuki tries to roll his eyes but just ends up looking up and to the side, mitsuki recognizes it as him trying to mimic what she does a lot and she snorts.

“well duh, we both did ! ‘f i kept it in my pocket it woulda gotten gross !” he defends. mitsuki simply responds with a hum, smile on her face growing larger as she hears her son happily chatting about the rest of his day with you.

she knows her katsuki is hard to handle. extremely so. but when she sees the way you both interact she can tell something is there. you don’t ‘handle’ him. you like being around him. you like playing and talking with him, she sees how happy you make him whenever you come over for playdates. he holds your hand when you get scared and you hug him tight and beam when you see him again after he’s gotten over a nasty cold.

she can tell you make her son happy and he does the same for you in the way children do with pinky promises and shy cheek kisses, kisses over tiny wounds and refusing to be separated whenever the rowdier one of you both gets his recess time taken away for being naughty.

mitsuki hopes this crush, this love you have for her son can grow along with you. she hopes you’ll stick around as katsuki grows up more and potentially more rowdy and rougher around the edges but even more enamored with you. and with the way her son is squirming around in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt, giddy about you accepting his ring pop proposal, she has a funny feeling you’ll be sticking around for a long time.

[syluses]

landlocked

siren! rafayel x female reader

cw ▻ 18+, noncon, nsfw, smut, yandere and unhealthy behaviors, monster(?) on human, merman rafayel, minor violence, dark content beware

wc ▻ 11k, longform oneshot, buckle up

an ▻ HAPPY BIRTDAY RAF 🐬🐳🩵🎉🎂 i busted my ass on this one and its a day late but here we are :,) please heed the tags and do enjoy raf girlies :] eee his characterization is quite tricky but im getting there </3 (also please do forgive typos 🥲)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

Waves crash against the rocks.

Sea salt shoots up and stings your cornea, your knuckles going white around the wooden ledge they grip onto for dear life. And to be perfectly accurate, that is what this is- life or death- something you’re not entirely certain you’ll make it to the other end of. With a frantic prayer, you plant your heels under the thwarts and try to find balance as the little canoe rocks violently.

Froth builds up around it; towering waves cresting over and leaving behind liquid dust, the air thick with it like a mist.

You squint your eyes to blot out the pelting rain; keeping them open for too long is a near impossible task anyway, what with the burn.

This was stupid, you know that. Whether or not it was a wise decision was never the question in your head.

No, the only one present- overarching all other thought, making it physically impossible to function in your day to day life- was if your fiancé was still alive. Or if what all the townsfolk gossiped about in whispering peels during brushes with them on the cobbled path was true—

If the waves got to him. If he was really lost at sea.

Stupid or naive or plain crazy (as one onlooker labeled you without so much as a care to just how worn-out this whole ordeal’s made you)- you don’t care. Truthfully, you think you’re a little beyond the point of it, of self doubt or second guessing.

The only room left is for action: the strong men at the tavern and the local fisherman you clumsily rallied together were helpful in some ways, but their help only lasted so long until exasperation kicked in and they called it quits.

The choice to do something is yours and only yours.

Look, girl. We combed the port front to back. Turned over the barrels and crates and all, found nothin’. And we’ve been hauling out them nets for weeks now— wouldn’t you be surprised-? nothin’ there, either. Your fiancé's gone. I’m sorry, but—

You didn’t stay to hear the rest, embittered by it.

They’d done you a kindness, carving time out of their strict schedules and afternoon, beer-induced naps. And you’ll always be thankful for that, that despite knowing deep in their hearts that you were a lost cause, they stepped up to bat regardless, but—

There’s no returning home for you. Wiping your brow of its sweat then throwing a towel over your shoulder, heading in for the night.

The spot beside you in bed is eerily empty and cold; you wake from nightmares in sheer darkness and swat a hand to feel him but you’re met with wrinkled sheets and a silence that sneers. Without him, this place is empty.

The town is beautiful- small- but beautiful- with its glittering fairy lights strung from shop to shop, worn paths branching off into pebbled ones that lead to the shore and the peer, the more developed side of it farther down the sand— and it used to feel comforting. Like home.

Now, there’s no lantern aglow on the porch banister to point you in the direction of home. You’re aimless and sad. Like a ship without a sail.

The first week afterward (the news that his crew never returned from their trip), you hid away in your room crying all day, the better part of you half expecting his footfalls to echo down the hall. Though, they never did. It’s fine, you’d reasoned with eyes clamped shut, splayed over his half of the mattress, he’ll be back tomorrow.

Tomorrow came. It went, too.

And he—

He’s still gone—

Worried neighbors flitted by and left steaming pastries by the door. You hardly had an appetite for them, though, delightful as they were sat outside your cracked window, the smell of pecan pie drifting under billowing, sheer curtains.

It’s encroaching on around a month now. A month of loneliness and denial and the cruel, pitying stares the locals level you in the times you seldom leave home.

Your fiancé's absence, as unexpected as it was devastating, has stretched on long enough to kindle a sort of determination in you. You pile your bones off the bed and set out for the shore with a small, leather bag at your waist and sandals that hang off your feet, nervous but hellbent.

That bag, now: floating off in the distance, whisked away by whirling winds and swallowed up by the sea. One valiant flipflop remains hanging off your big toe, but you question, albeit with little concern for it, for just how much longer it will last.

Your fingers shake as they peel hair from your temple. You can’t see, can’t see anything— the boat shakes and croaks as the bottom steadily fills, and you have the dreadful realization that you are slowly sinking and cannot stop it.

Through bleared eyes, you watch several, ringlet-like waves form on the horizon and disappear behind rolling, closer ones. You brace endlessly for impact, but another wave bulges and effortlessly lifts your canoe- a temporary respite from the others that come crashing over.

When it lets you down, you quickly squint to see what’s coming for you next and immediately pale.

It’s massive. Dark, cobalt, scraping the underbelly of the black sky. Another tall wave (but a small fish in comparison) interlopes into it and is swallowed within a blink. It only worsens it, feeds it.

You have no chance. None at all. It’s over. It’s over and despite it all- the pointed meddling of your neighbors and all the chatter meant to maim the stubborn belief you held that your to-be husband was still alive- a small hope flares to life in your chest.

It says maybe dying here wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe, if all of them were right after all, you’d be able to see him again.

As that unbeatable wave draws nigh, seemingly moving at a snail’s pace- casual in its approach but so terrifyingly powerful- it droops at the top and paints you in an opaque shadow.

You can’t see, can’t hear. The deafening roar of thunder and the foamy tide clapping against itself is tuned out. Your eyes see nothing but darting smears of lightning and the hurt of heartbreak and sea salt.

It’s happening. It’s over.

You give your fingers one last twitch to remind yourself that, for the moment, remarkably, you’re still alive. They feel fat with the cold, hardly budging.

Your last flip flop gusts over your shoulder and your ribcage rattles with a chill.

Your teeth chatter out one final prayer and perhaps a choked sob- although you can’t tell if it’s the brine gathering at your feet, rising with a gurgle- And you watch with wide, teary eyes as that tsunami finally descends—

A flash of color, indigo and bright, bobs above the slanted tide.

‘You. You shouldn’t be out here.’

Your eyes widen. Milliseconds before the boat is hit, a slosh from the side tips it and you’re catapulted into the open water.

It feels like an open flame.

Arctic temperatures freeze you to the bone. You’re reminded of hellfire as the cold licks away at your skin, limbs warping around you in violent currents.

You let out a scream of despair and watch as it turns to suds.

You know it was stupid, you know it was stupid, you know it was stupid— But you were hurting. And that life back at town- now devoid of the man you thought to be your veritable soulmate, who you were convinced you’d spend your final breaths with- is not the one you want to continue on with.

(But… you don’t wanna die.)

You dig to the surface with a sputter.

You manage to keep yourself afloat for all of two seconds before the ocean— or something that feels oddly like a fist— latches onto your ankle and pulls.

Consciousness is a slightly longer affair… but that, too, fades.

Teal blips across your spasming eyes. A vivid, long tail flicks along your arm, almost curiously, before curling behind you and disappearing.

Bubbles erupt from your jaw and shoot up, up, up.

Maybe, you think vaguely as the world blackens, quietens, you’ll find your missing fiancé lying at the seabed. The thought, surprisingly, isn’t as comforting as it is disturbing, but you suppose a reunion only in death would be better than none at all.

‘Silly human. Don’t worry, I got you.’

⊹⊹⊹

A voice breaks the quiet of night. Dulcet, lamenting.

The ocean whirs in his ears endlessly, his tail gliding below him in a dull swish. A school of fish passes by, and then another. A curious, blue one swims at his side and he biffs it dismissively.

“Not now, fishie.”

Rafayel isn’t concerned about the life swirling around him in colorful dots of assorted sizes, floating above the seabed, no- that’s all ubiquituous to him. It’s that song— that smooth sound drifting like a dirge from somewhere on the surface— that stirs something deep in his chest.

It was like that last night, too, and then a few nights before.

After over two decades of swimming in unbroken boredom- with each day bringing about the expectation of nothing more than waking up to see another- the siren feels a shift.

Something is breaking the monotony.

An excitement, existing deep in his chest but incipient, is invoked within him like an ancient god brought to wakefulness. Rafayel feels his bones rouse with the phantom aches of a slumber he never fell into- but the feeling is all the same. He rubs the disbelief from his eyes and pushes aside waving reeds before rocketing upwards.

When the waves kiss the morning foam,

From beneath the surface, the crescent moon is lopsided and shakes as Rafayel gets closer to breaching it.

The dainty shadow of a hand cuts in front of the white orb, as if wanting to capture it, before falling back to her side.

A gentle splash.

From up here, he can hear the things of land- the crickets and cicadas of summertime- purr from afar. That’s not what he came here for, though, what’s been stringing him in from the depths like fish in a trawl or moth to a flame.

And still, in the span of the last week, Rafayel has yet to get her name... (Something that definitely has to be remedied sooner or later, he quietly decides- despite the other half of him still holding onto the pride of coasting solo, the embarrassment at being led off by a mere voice. A land creature’s, at that.)

He latches onto the long, thick leg of the peer and props himself just under the overhang of it, laying his nose flat in the water but opening his eyes above it. It’s amplified now, that pretty noise, and the only thing separating the two- him and the human- is the planks of wood overhead.

Her feet rest on it. He hears her sandals squelch before she toes them off, sits down, and loops her legs over the edge.

Rafayel, with fluttering lashes and an interest so unexpected but strong it’s paralyzing- watches her heels make ripples just beside him, his heart thumping wildly. It could be out of the thrill of doing something this unusual, or the silent anticipation of maybe getting caught (although, he doubts he will, for the main reason that his kin don’t lack in cunning).

Maybe it’s just out of delight- the fibers of his being tingling with invisible sparks of… something. It makes him feel a little clumsy, innocent and fumbling like when he was a young merfolk just learning how to evade a rip current.

Similarly, she pulls him under. Drags him far out. Her voice is the tide and he’s all too willing to drown.

It’s… certainly not the first time he’s seen them- human legs- and he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t so sure about them initially- but he thinks he likes hers the best. It’s starting to grow on him, but just a little.

She’s soft. Smooth. At least, that’s how she appears- though he can’t say for certain because he’s never tested that theory, yet.

He’s extra careful to keep his hands to himself, intrigued as he is, lest his nails pierce through and break her. It’s a more common notion underwater, shared between much of the fishfolk, that humans are meant to be broken. Pieced apart in hungry hands or brought to the depths for a more extended, decadent death.

To be fair, he’s not a firm denier of that...

But this human, this girl who’s collided into his infinitely bleak life with all the grace of a ship wrecked hours off from shore, and whatever the hell she’s singing about— Rafayel’s not quite stupid enough to break her, no… He’s not quite willing to, either.

When the scent of roses pierces the lungs, The fish stranded at your fingertips…

For the rest of the moonlit evening, Rafayel floats beneath the peer at her (unwitting) side and listens to her languishing until she stands to her feet and retreats down the beach, disappearing into a cluster of warm, tiny lights in the distance.

Blood,

Blood,

Blood covers the sea.

Rafayel, with an inexplicable pang of sorrow- unable to fight the influence of her songs- can’t help but wonder what has made the girl so sad.

It’s not in their baser nature, the sirens, to commiserate, least of all with the humans. It’s a weakness, to cry, an open wound that his kind is all too susceptible to deepening- so they avoid it entirely. Call it preservation. But for as much as Rafayel loves the ocean- and yes, to an extent, his people- he was never all that interested in their society, and if showing a little bit of heart for the landfolk means escaping the bland shadows of the sea, then maybe right now is a good time to start.

…Before she swims away, anyway.

⊹⊹⊹

Silence sours the balmy air of your home, but you swear you hear something singing to you.

It was real.

It had to be, what happened just a number of days ago.

When you’d been retrieved from a bed of seaweed on the shore with little memory of what happened, you had retained just enough to know that something was… off.

That something having to do with the violent storm at sea and your lack of succumbing to it- the darting shadow that appeared by the boat and was there when you went under— wasn’t adding up.

You… shouldn’t be alive.

That thought was present even in the thick mist of early morning as boats began unmooring from the docks— stark epiphany, realer than the concerned hands of the fishermen as they helped you into town, your legs hardly capable of carrying you there on their own. Much less your frazzled mind; you didn’t quite miss the way they’d stared at you during the trek off shore, throwing frantic looks over your shoulder even as the sand gave to the reedy path leading into the village.

The rolling waves got flatter as you drew off from it, but something in you- like some inexplicable base instinct- was telling you to run. Away or back to it, you don’t know, but you feel the frigidity of the sea still in your chest, lapping away at your sanity as days pass.

The burn is surreal. Nothing makes sense.

You should be dead- scraping there at the bottom of the sea, drifting with your supposedly dead fiancé in a place where the light doesn’t dare reach—

But you’re not.

The earth feels shapeless beneath your feet. A perpetual dizziness in your skull that makes you feel like you’re swaying on a dock- but your toes are planted in dry land.

You’re alive. The scale tipped against you but it didn’t matter. The sea spat you out, didn’t want you.

Surprisingly, you take the whole ordeal in stride. The first days after being plucked from the shore are rocky and dreamy, but you find your footing and with it comes an unexpected hope.

If you survived, your fiancé must’ve as well. He’d always been the stronger of you two, anyway, more stout and determined.

The waves did not drag him under. Couldn’t have.

The canoe you took out to sea is gone, not to your surprise. It was more or less reduced to splinters. But you wonder if it was even real to begin with, if the canoe ever existed that day when you unroped it from its notch and embarked on the perilous journey. Down to the very point where you pattered off your porch steps and made the choice to look for your fiancé yourself- the whole sequence of events is wrapped in a forgetful fog.

But deep down, despite the whispers of doubt surrounding you and your own mental haze, you know it happened. All of it.

It was real, and something

Is singing to you—

(Wet hands descend the span of your belly. Sand feels like gravel beneath you, soaked and cold beneath a yellowed moon as night fades. Reverent, curious. Long nails carefully unravel algae from your fingers and thighs. The debris is tossed away, thrown down the shore without thought.

-…. in good shape, cutie. Is there anyone on land who’d sing for you if you disappeared? A gentle laugh- but even in your state of unconsciousness, you pick up on the note of disdain there. I guess if there was, you wouldn’t turn to the sea so much.)

Hands. Curious hands kneading into you like wet clay on a spinning wheel. Reshaping. Admiring. There’s painterly intent in every touch, every brush. Something between the cove of your legs gives a wanting throb and your tongue feels like cotton. Fire licks from your belly to your brain and makes it benumbed, pleasantly heavy as the gentle, rhythmic lull of the tide cools the tips of your toes.

Salt burns your throat.

You wake with it sore.

Rubbing it groggily, you come to before dawn fully does, the horizon flickering with a diluted, white-orange beneath a starry sky.

It gets to be too much. The emptiness of your bed, the suffocating drivel of the townsfolk and the lack of certainty in what happened to you.

Dubbed crazy or not by all around you, you’re past the point of caring. You have to leave. Worried neighbors advised you against it, adamant that you ward off on visiting the peer at least until your mind fog lessened; preferably, you’d wait an extra few months so the wound of heartbreak would seal over, but it seems they know better than to ask that of you.

He’s still out there, your to-be husband. He’s got to be.

You think something else might be, too. The thing that saved you. Although, the reasons it has for doing so are beyond you.

Go back, a lilting voice sings somewhere in the back of your head, a dull throb like a separate, beating heart. It thumps in your skull and sends a thrill through you. It speaks in urgency, like it’s warning you not to disobey— but all the sharpness of it is masked in dulcet chords.

Go back, back to the sea.

Crazy or not, you think it’s calling for you.

The lyrics lead you to the front door. Maybe you ought to think this over more, sleep on it (God knows you’re failing at that seemingly simple task). But something is driving you, picking up and physically moving your limbs for you as if your settings have been switched to autopilot.

You shrug on a thin cardigan to stave off the crisp air of early morning, not bothering to lock your door behind you.

A weird, eerie voice in your subconscious- hardly sounding like yours- says you won’t be coming back anyway.

Thankfully, you have half the mind to shoo it away and steel your nerves. Of course you’ll be coming back home. You’ll find your errant fiancé and burst through the little blue-painted door with celebration. All the village will cough up their sheepish apologies for the things they’d said- the faithless assumptions they made- and raise a mug to his return.

The key to finding him is finding that other thing, first. The thing with a watery fist and roaming nails, the glinting coral-red eyes that blurred beneath coiling waves and the tail that you’re sure swam you back to safety.

The locals can say all they want about you: The ruddy, fading ring of scratches wrapping around the bone of your ankle—

That’s all the proof you need to spur you onward.

Onward is the ocean.

⊹⊹⊹

Water gushes against the rocks at the seaside.

Dark and slate-grey, they dry up under the sun immediately. Seagulls caw overhead. The sand is warm- not cool as it was in your last visit- near scalding as you head towards the shore.

You hiss and don’t make it halfway until you start leaping, bare feet burning. You hurry into the water, standing only ankle-deep, and mentally scold yourself for forgoing shoes— but to your defense, your sandals had been lost to the abyss that was the sea just barely seven days ago.

The horizon is blinding. Sunlight bounces off the plane of the sea and glistens, just as bedazzled as a wealthy woman’s neck. It’s a far cry from what it was last week- all whorling ridges and roaring waters- and for that you’re thankful.

That storm, and being launched into the hellish currents of it, will remain in your dreams for a long time coming.

Even now, just looking at it from far out takes your breath a little.

It’s horrifying. It’s… beautiful.

…And it’s singing to you—

“I know you’re there,” you whisper.

Your voice is just a breath at first, hushed as you toss a squirrely look down the beach- where the fishermen drudge around as little specks- and straighten your spine.

You’re alone here, though. You’re allowed to be as crazy as you want.

You speak louder, forcing down the lump of embarrassment in your throat that says your voice is falling on deaf ears. And you know the ocean doesn’t have ears, or eyes; it hardly had the heart to spit you back out of it.

But that thing that snatched you into its arms and left you boneless on the sand does.

With hands bunched, shaking, you declare, “I know, you’re there.”

Nothing.

A short whitecap curls over the tips of your toes and stretches a few feet behind you before receding.

It melds seamlessly into the blue.

Nothing, and then-

Yards off, a colorful blur warbles. As it swims closer, you hold your ground, squint to assure it’s not a sea turtle or other creature (albeit, no typical marine animal is that shape or size), and let out a little gasp. Its head pops above the surface gracefully, and it’s full of hair, a vibrant shade of indigo that strikes a familiar chord in you instantly.

“It’s you,” you startle, almost out of breath. The fingers clutched tightly at your sides unfurl. Your heart picks up its speed, an abrupt surge of emotions- shock, relief, and confusion- leaving no different an effect than a stungun would.

“You’re real, I- I knew it—!”

“Shhh,” is his first word, coral-blue eyes narrowing with apathy as he palms himself closer, about knee-deep in the water now. And yet you step away, applying some distance as you stagger because for whatever reason, the knowledge that his creature- or fish-man- saved you doesn’t take the cake when it comes to self-preservation.

You don’t even have a name to put to his face (or tail), and up until now, you were certain mermaids and unicorns and fairies only existed between the pages of whimsical books or the imaginations of children.

Right then, you think, they also existed in the sage warnings of the Greeks before they sailed off to sea.

The quiet epiphany plays with your nerves.

“You don’t have to be so loud, you know. I can hear you just fine, thanks.”

Ear-length, wavy hair bobs with the movement as he tilts his head. You can’t help but feel estranged from the idea of caution, though, as he drifts a bit closer and gives you a petulant pout.

He gets as close as the sandbar will allow before pausing, broad shoulders jutting above the ripples.

And he’s childish still, the picture of harmlessness as he looks up at you, squinting in the sun, and murmurs, “buuuut, I admire your enthusiasm, cutie... Were you looking forward to our reunion that bad?”

You blink, lashes fluttering. A breath you’d been holding finally escapes you, a whit of that unease ebbing out just like the cool tide underfoot.

You’re… hardly a sailor, anyway. You’ve no ship to be wrecked; no, the man that served as the anchoring element in your life is missing. The boat in your life has gone AWOL. With it your warmth and love. It’s why you’ve even come out here in the first place, the flights of fancy belonging to a grieving woman or not.

The reminder of your lost fiancé steels you.

You lift a shaky hand to use as a visor against the sun, blotting it out so you can peruse the man-fish without obstruction.

“You saved me,” is all you really know to say. You’d had all sorts of lofty plans coming back out here, but you’d never fully considered what you’d do if your new friend (he is a friend, right?) did show.

He lets out an amused, dry sound. The ghost of a smile curls at his pink lips, though. He can’t quite hide that one from you.

“I did. Have you come to show me your gratitude?” He lowers his gaze then, glancing at your shins momentarily before peering behind you, at the grassland stopped just after the shore and right before the village.

He grumbles, “Or will humans with pitchforks show up any minute, intent on slaughtering me and my kind?”

For some reason, the most you take from that statement is the very end of it, quickly saying, “T-There’s more of you?”

He looks up at you. Makes a scoffing sound but it only holds half its bite.

“Well, of course there is. Silly girl,” he comments, that little grin returning with a vengeance as behind him, something teal shoots up from the water and pelts a small flurry of droplets your way. You close your eyes and turn, the gentle sound of his laughs ringing out.

When you look back at him, a long tail- gorgeous and as pigmented as turquoise paint- flicks under the sun and glitters no different than rhinestones.

“It was only me that was generous enough to save you, though. That’s the most important part.”

⊹⊹⊹

Trust is a big word, it is.

But there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve succumbed to a watery death if not for the merman- Rafayel, he’d informed with a coy flap of his tail- intervening, and you’re grateful to him for that. His saving you— it means something. And you owe him.

You head for the shore each morning with a silent debt hanging over your head, but he never demands anything of you in return. During lazy afternoons by the cove trading pretty, swirled shells and at first tentatively getting in the water with him to swim at nightfall, you wait for the catch to come, for him to name his price.

You think it’s only fair. Rescuing something as valuable as a life is nothing to scoff at: you’d cough up the change.

He never holds out his hand.

If anything, Rafayel seems wholly uninterested in that.

You’re not entirely sure why you formulated your ideas of merfolk around blood-thirst and thievery (perhaps because of the myths), but the one you’re befriending is nothing like that. He’s playful and sassy and a little bit flirtatious but you suppose- if the legends of sirens luring sailors to the depths are really true- then it adds up. It’s only natural he’d be a whit on the provocative side, right?

Rafayel is friendly, clingy even when you convince him that you have no intentions of alerting the village any time soon of his presence. You tell him with a wry laugh that they’d hardly believe you anyway because everyone thinks you’ve lost it.

You see it in his pleasant face- the blip of interest that passes by- that he wants to ask why, but he holds off on it when you pour him with questions about what goes on in the deep blue and if his kind really eats fishermen.

He huffs, propping his elbow on the half-submerged rock he’d helped you onto, still in sight of the shore but more intimate a setting.

“What kind of question is that? Do you really think I could do something like that? Look at me,” he balloons out his cheeks and puffs. “I’m an innocent little fishie.”

You laugh, and drop the interrogation in favor of a more lighthearted one. You ask Rafayel what life off land is like.

With a mischevious twinkle in his marbled, red-blue eye, he tells you about what lurks in ocean trenches first, painting vivid imagery in your head of glowing bulbs in the dark and rows of jagged teeth that peer out of deep crevices.

You blanche and he can’t help but chuckle softly, a dash of something in his gaze that resembles ardor as it flits appreciatively along the curve of your face.

It’s not all horrifying, though, he eventually concedes.

He scoops shiny things up from the sand lining the ocean floor and gifts them to you in your following meetings. He tells you that the fish- sleek and chromatic- dance around him in schools where everything is crystalline. They sleep on beds of coral under-tail and stick close to the fins of whales, apparently having nothing better to do. Sometimes they get a little clingy, he admits, and he has to shoo them away, but the little creatures are friendly- and his underwater world is nothing short of beautiful.

Rafayel loves the sea. It’s his home.

“And what about you, cutie? What’s your home like?”

That gives you pause, but just for a moment.

You know what home is like; you’d only dwelled there, in the tiny village off the shoal, since you were a little girl.

And home is nice…. Or, it was. Now, it’s a husk of the warmth you once knew. Days drag by in drab monotony and the added, very much unwanted reminder that your fiancé has yet to return. Seagulls squawk outside and tricycle bells ring. Concerned neighbors knock on your door but this place feels dull. No more face to put to this snuggly seaside village.

With a small smile- one that Rafayal thinks is more wistfully sad than anything- you tell the merman about the things you cherish here, deliberately omitting what you desperately miss.

Memories of childhood circle back to you in fuzzy fragments: Despite the present, you can still at least cherish the past, right…?

Listening to you recount gems of your youth with a smile, it’s evident to Rafayel that you love it here.

Just… he understands that maybe it’s not as much as you used to.

His face takes on more of a sober look then, his cheeks, dappled with teal scales that break the surface in some spots, dusting a soft pink. You don’t really understand why- perhaps a mild case of sun burn- but he asks,

“And what about in it? Is there… Someone who’s special to you, who brings it warmth? Even underwater, in order to survive, we merfolk need a suitable temperature, you know.”

Ah. That.

You offer a hum of acknowledgment before glancing off, far out to where the flat whitecaps stretch into nothingness. Lounging around by the coast with your new, unlikely friend, the scenery is idyllic here.

You almost will yourself into forgetting what you’re really here for, what hurled you face-first into this predicament.

Sorrow hangs in your heart. The visage of your fiancé passes in your head rapidly, kaleidoscopic, his smiles and the tender moments spent with him, the sound of his laugh.

You are less and less certain of yourself. You are not sure if the gossipping townsfolk are correct or not to assume the worst, but what you do know is that it’s creeping up on two months and not one shiphand has returned. Not even an errant oar has washed ashore.

“Yes. But…” A pause. You swallow thickly and give your head a belated, uncertain shake. Tears form in the back of your throat and you pile them down, frustrated they’d showed up uninvited.

Perhaps you’re more weak to all the bleak murmurs than you’ve let on.

You laugh, but the sound lacks humor. “Everyone thinks he’s dead, all the people at the village.”

“…You wanna share?”

You shrug and draw one knee to your chest, the other still bent over the rocky ledge, dangling in the cool water. They’re still today, the waters, relatively level— but inwardly, you warn yourself against being so easily deceived by them: they looked more or less the same the day you rowed out.

The storm was nothing short of terrifying, yes, but you think the lack of expecting it somehow made it more devastating.

“Well, there’s not much to,” you respond, tongue in cheek. You don’t mean to sound uninterested in this conversation all of a sudden, but you suppose it’s a defense mechanism. Rafayel props his elbows on the rock and listens intently, giving his brow a little quirk at your tone.

“But my… fiancé,” why the words are suddenly hard to get out, you don’t know, “he went off to sea. Hasn’t come back yet.”

At your knees, Rafayel is noticeably quiet, but you get the inexplicable sense that he’s invested.

“I guess he’ll come back with lots of fish whenever he does,” you sigh. Your attempts to remain lighthearted just barely working.

Quickly, you try to breeze past the topic, but the merman chimes- “A fisherman? You were courting a fisherman?”

Courting. The word sounds a little funny, medieval almost, but you hum.

It’s his turn to make a tongue-in-cheek comment, lifting his scaly fist to support his chin. “He must’ve been a real prize to deserve all that singing... What do I get for saving you?” He says playfully, almost pettily, but you get the weird idea that this is more serious to him than he lets on.

You want to heave a laugh at his pouting words, but confusion stops you. You snap your head to him.

“You-?”

Quickly, Rafayel quips, “Yes, just about the whole sea can hear you at night. Why is that surprising?”

For some reason, a whit of hope warms your chest throughout. If Rafayel is cognizant of something as trivial as songs from above the surface, surely he must’ve been privy to a shipwreck or the hurried shouts of sailors as their boat went down.

Not that you believe it did, just—

You scramble upright, planting your palms on the rock in a kneel as you say- in a voice you’re not keen on sounding as desperate as it comes out-

“Have you ever heard anything else? A- A boat sinking? People drowning or- or—“ You stuff out an anxious breath, all the worries and doubts you’d been housing for weeks now bubbling to the surface. You suppose if anybody has garnered your confidence, though, it’s the merman that saved your veritable life.

Still, a lump of unease burns in your throat. Thick and acidic. It makes your voice shake but you ignore it, leaning over the edge. If you fall in, he’ll save you again anyway. If not a friendship (but you definitely treat it as such), there is still a mutual fondness between you two- a silent trust- and you’re sure, beside the marks on your ankle he left by accident in the heat of the moment, he would not let harm befall you.

“Because they say he’s gone— my lover— they say his crew got hit by something- like a plague or a storm- and succumbed out there. But maybe- maybe you heard something? Rafayel- did you hear or see any group of fishermen out there?” You bluster, before adding on like an afterthought, “two months ago?”

The longer your mouth moves, the wider Rafayel’s eyes get.

And then, you think it’s something like… recognition that skips across multihued eyes.

He’s quiet for a moment, mouth ajar. His bright turquoise tail, the tip jutting out from the tide as it sways idly, stops midway in the air and floats awkwardly.

Your brow furrows. You fear the worst. Your nails dig into the gritty surface, fingerpads whiting as you shake your head.

“Rafayel-? W-What’s wrong?”

Curtly, he shuts his mouth. An easy smile replaces his momentary surprise.

When he speaks, it’s in a familiar, somewhat sarcastic but harmless tone, and his tail sparks to life behind him, albeit quite unsteadily.

“Nothin’, cutie,” he lifts an arm to adjust his perch on the rock but it slips. His face dusts pink, his brows twitching together; all of it, the clearly disturbed signs of his composure, he ignores. Your heart thrums.

“I was just thinking how brave you were to venture off to sea after him. He’s lucky to have someone like you still waiting at home for him.” His compliment is overlooked. You’re too caught up in the rush of unease that sweeps through you- the niggling feeling that says there’s something more to this you’re not seeing- that you can hardly utter a bashful thanks.

“But- did you happen to hear anything, or-?”

Rafayel adds casually, “I’m sure the guy is fine wherever he is, though. And no, cutie. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Something like hesitance grips you as you watch, with silence, the friendly merman lose the better part of his mirth. You wonder if you’ve said something wrong as his exterior hardens cooly, if you’ve divulged too much of your emotions and quite possibly lost your final companion. Maybe you’re overthinking it- but if that’s the case, if even a fish-man from the sea has taken the same opinion as the land-living locals, then some drama seems warranted.

You don’t want to be alone again. And Rafayel- Rafayel was starting to really grow on you despite all your differences—

He strums his fingers against his jaw, painting the picture of boredom, and puffs out his lips, eyes drifting away almost flippantly as if he’s dead to the wounded look you send him.

A yawn. He unfolds his lean arms and ducks under the water.

“Wait- Rafayel-?”

“Sorry, princess, the fishies are calling me. They said it’s getting late now, and that I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But—“

“Hop on my back, let me take you back to shore. Your little legs can only doggy paddle you so far,” he lets out a light laugh but you don’t miss the dash of mockery there, as if you’re some unfortunate soul cursed with four limbs and warm blood. Still, you bite your tongue- and the unbidden pang of unease in your chest- and slip off the rock.

You loop your arms around his middle, his muscles flexing in response, lean and tight, and keep your chin above the tide as he floats towards the sand bar.

“Rafayel, are you okay?”

“Of course, cutie. Why, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s just-“ you poorly stifle a sigh, still a bit taken aback by his sudden desire to truncate your meeting. That, and his odd behavior when you asked about any possible shipwreck.

You eventually settle on, “Please just keep it on your radar. If you hear or see any ships, call me, okay?”

“We don’t have shellphones under the water, you know. How am I supposed to alert you?” You can’t see the face he’s making, saddled on his back as his long tail gusts through the gentle currents, but you realize he’s teasing.

“I- I don’t know,” you admit clumsily. “Maybe I’ll just know if you say my name.”

I mean, it’s not too crazy an idea, is it? You felt a stirring towards the ocean- real and audible- would a creature living in it really be so different?

Perhaps the townsfolk are right in their claims made against you, that you’ve lost it.

There’s nothing left in you that cares, though.

Rafayel lets out a small chuckle but sounds oddly endeared. “How romantic.”

“Rafayel—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know if anything’s up. Don’t worry!”

⊹⊹⊹

From the shipdeck, the water is beautiful, even as it takes you down under, swallowing up the thick hull in a lazy gulp.

A white moon pours down. The waves sparkle like sequins. It’s… hypnotizing, in a way. Your fist flies to your collar when the sails tear, the harsh rip of it reminding you of the breath still in your lungs, and you hold the locket there like it’s a lifering.

The crewhands scramble for them- and for the tiny boat hanging off the side. Another powerful slosh to the boat sends slippery hands in a fray; you hear the vague sound of wood cracking, planks you thought to be sturdy splintering. You’re no more than a raft drifting, victim to the elements.

The emergency lifeboat whistles as it drops, freefalling from the ropes and into the coiling sea.

It has no heart for mercy, the sea, but you’ve still one for home, a deep-seated urge within to return that has your nails digging bluntly into your palms, blood drawing in the paths of them.

…H-Home.

Sailors scream around you.

Someone, you realize with a flash of confusion, in the chaos- in the maelstrom of wind and shooting rain- is even singing.

The sound of it chills you to the bone.

Dazedly, you think they must’ve lost it. To be fair, there’s no blame there— men have drowned in waters far flatter: your crew is miles from the nearest chunk of land and the vessel can’t withstand this weather— you’re all gonna die and the crewmate must know. He knows and he’s singing.

Crashing waves silence heavy thunder. The sky glows endless white, one last fissure of lightning darting down before the deck lights bright gold.

Fire surges. It dances in your eyes and you swallow a scream.

She’s waiting at home, still. It can’t be over, it can’t be, it can’t be—

Fiery yellow, and then everything spins, your world going lopsided as the ship groans and you tip.

And then, it’s all blue.

Dark, vast cerulean interpolated only by flotsam that drifts away the moment you reach for it, fingers desperately clawing for the surface.

Up, or down— you’re not sure which way you’re swimming.

You do know, though, that you never find your buoyancy.

Hands. Hands on you and dragging you down, down, down, and then it’s clear the wrecked pieces of the ship are getting further away, not closer. A deepness surrounds you. Cold, quiet. The storm’s effects are mitigated the lower you sink— it’s counterintuitive, you think, because surely you’ll drown regardless, but a strange sense of calm washes over you as the air peters from your lungs. They spasm as you choke.

But you got to get home, you must get home to her—

The tips of your boots touch the sandy floor.

It’s tranquil, under the sea. The reefs are vivid, swaying with bubbling marine life. Navy blue swirls around you and is limned with muted fire light, displacing itself with every wild movement of your limbs. You flail them helplessly but something—

Something is holding you down and it’s singing—

From afar, and through bleared eyes, the coral looks like upright rods of colorful bone, yellow and blushing-orange. An opaque red smears over them— curling and wavering into smoke-like trails. It’s reminiscent of black and white marble. Beautiful, in a way.

A long, glittering tail scrapes across your leg.

You realize it’s blood- your blood- and then in a heartbeat, a pair of talons pierce through the veil and—

A gasp.

You come to wakefulness with a frightened noise.

That dream- you’d been having it for days now, each more fragmented and blurry than the last… But this time, it’s strikingly clear.

Horror frosts your eyes over, glossy and wide as you undo the covers bound tightly around you, standing to shaking feet.

That awful, awful dream— it’s not in your point of view, you realize, it’s in your fiancé’s, and that same claw that had been gracious enough to scoop you up and save you from stormful, roaring swells—

Dragged your lover down to the depths, burying him in liquid oblivion.

As you shrug on a thin cardigan and hurry outside, dashing under moonlit lawns with the single-minded focus to reach the beach, you vaguely wonder if you’re being unreasonable, if all these little dreams and visions and songs you’ve been experiencing are nothing short of delirium. But this is too coincidental— Rafayel had smoothly shirked all your questions days ago, and you realize now that the dull look in his eye wasn’t boredom but jealously, ugly and sudden, masquerading under disinterest.

Knowledge of that- and your naivety- comes to you in piecemeal.

You’ve been stupid. You’d been holding onto the feeble hope that your soon-to-be husband was somewhere out there, scraping together shellfish on an uncharted islet or lost at sea with his crew-mates but alive. Deep down, you always knew it was the dreams of a fool.

But damn it all if you’d just… stopped yourself for one fucking second to nudge aside your denial and take a good look at your marine friend, you’d have seen the lack of common sense in it. Your lover’s met no different and no more painless, as much as it horrifies you- a fate than the sailors depicted in all those whimsical tales of old.

You sing out to the sea. Anger warms your chest like a fleece, cardigan be damned, fists clenched so tight your palms swell as you cry out.

Panic, subtle but niggling, speaks to you from underneath thick layers of hate and pain, but you’re beyond the point of reason. No, you need to hear it from the siren himself just what the fuck happened to your other half— if he can hear your lamenting after dark without issue, surely he would’ve at least caught wind of some devastation off the coast or spotted the debris in his own waters—

But he’s been keeping something from you.

“Rafayel!” You cry again. It’s impossible to swallow the lump in your throat; it seeks to climb to the surface but for now, with a remnant of control that surprises yourself, you manage to keep from spitting it up.

Nausea turns in your belly, but you keep it at bay. Just barely.

Unshed tears burn your cornea. “Rafayel!” You don’t scream, no, your lungs are too wounded and overwhelmed by the simple task of drawing air to, but it’s a near thing.

Furious, beginning to think he’ll conveniently not show or he’s merely ignoring you, your feet splash into the water until you’re shin-deep.

You hiccup. “R-Rafayel! I know you’re there!”

Eventually, a head bobs above the tide, infuriatingly nonchalant, and a turqoise fluke appears not long after it, twinkling just barely under a clouded, night sky.

He doesn’t look as tired as you’re sure you do- and not by a long shot quite as disturbed. If anything, he looks a little pleased with himself.

Wet indigo waves give a little bounce as he lazily approaches, watchful eyes glimmering with something you’re both too enraged and emotional to name. Something like betrayal courses through you— distracting you from the very real fact that the siren is drawing closer.

He says nothing as you shake your hands emphatically, eyeballs practically bulging out your head. They might pop out and roll. “You-! You knew!” You accuse, momentarily stunned at the broken sound of your voice. “You knew all along b-because you did it, didn’t you? You’ve been lying to my face this whole time— You killed him! Y-You ripped him apart I fucking saw it—“

Your tirade is clipped short with a hiccuping gasp as you fully erupt into tears. You don’t bother to wipe them or even hang your head, brows furrowed as Rafayel regards you with a contemplative, almost curious look.

An undercurrent of desire, dark and intense, exists under it, though, and you can’t will yourself for any longer to view him as the same harmless, aquatic humanoid who’d rescued you.

You find yourself for both a lack of coherency and also gratitude; he could’ve left you to decay at the bottom of the ocean for all you care, or thrown you to the hands of Neptune or the feeding pit of sharks— it’s almost preferable to this.

Rafayel’s face, admittedly handsome, in a pretty way (albeit, you’ve no idea why your brain is suddenly forming opinions on his appearance, especially now of all times), is relaxed, devoid of emotion. You recognize the impatience there, though… like there’s been a string that you’ve pulled taut.

The silent truth that has been overarching your life for the past couple months- you don’t want to come to terms with it or you might break otherwise.

For the life of you, you can’t even understand what his goals were in all of this—

You hurl your anger at him and flail your arms and shout until your trachea feels like aggregate when you swallow, and he waits it all out with an ease that gets you impossibly riled up.

You suck in a sharp breath and shudder when you open your eyes again, color seeming to reenter your periphery, and measure the distance Rafayel has bridged.

Gasping, you go to take a step back, knees knocking together like newborn foal as a distinct sense of panic rips through you- not right, it screams, and, you messed up, you messed up, you stupid, stupid—

“Silly girl,”

A loud splash. A resistance.

Rafayel lurches his arm, belly almost brushing against the sandbar, and takes ahold of your ankle.

You let out a yelp, instantly reaching down to try to unlatch him from you, dismay robbing you of oxygen, but it’s too late for that. Each of your clumsy attempts is precluded. Faded scars line the knob of your ankle and Rafayel presses into them with the smooth pads of his fingers- forcefully, but he’s mindful not to use his nails. He’s learned since the last time.

He gives one good tug and you stand no chance, falling with a slosh.

Pulling you towards him, he’s fully confident now that you’re in his liquid domain, slowly dragging you away from the shallow end, from home- or at least, the shriveled, sad remains of it.

Mortified, and still very much resisting him— the merman surprisingly gentle, cognizant of your frailty despite the iron grasp he subdues you with— you throw a frantic glance up and watch as the shore shrinks.

“No!” He’s very careful to keep your head above the tide, but you’re choking still.

This is not the first time he’s helped you into the ocean and swam recreationally with you, usually with the addition of little trinkets and pretty shells you bring to swap, but it’s definitely the first time he’s trapped you in his arms, lean and impossible to swat away, and ignored your asks to return to land.

You remember your front door then, funnily enough, how you left in a tizzy and far too shaken to lock it, and burst into another sob.

You’ll not be returning, will you?

“Please!” You blubber with all the grace of a fish out of water. You squirm like one, too. “Please, don’t kill me, Rafayel, don’t- don’t eat me—!”

A laugh, breathy but humored- cruel in its softness- rings at your ear. Gorgeous tail folded in front of you, brushing against your rear and the underside of your thighs as they fruitlessly kick out, Rafayel uses it to propel you both backwards, treating your kidnapping like a pleasant stroll.

“Of course I won’t eat you, princess,” he coos, placing a painless but clearly posessive- like he’s marking his territory- nip to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. It makes you shiver. “Don’t you understand by now?” He frowns, “You’re mine. The ocean’d sooner dry up then watch me lay a fin on you.”

There’s exactly zero things funny about this situation, so with a pang of wrath, you don’t know why he’s laughing. Maybe at the irony, because in any case, he most certainly has laid a fin on you—

You feel angry at yourself next in the seconds that follow, managing to bite into the flesh of his scale-dotted forearm and slip out of his grip— thrashing away without ceremony before he hisses and curtly regathers you.

“You’re a slippery fishie, huh, cutie? You can’t seriously think I’ll just let you swim away though, right?” His tone darkens then, deepening with a quiet warning you can’t help but feel is incongruous to the generally mild, sassy but otherwise friendly merman you’d grown to know.

When you try to break free again, the exertion summoning a state of near dry-drowning, Rafayel drops all efforts at patience and seizes you by the throat.

His hand curling around your neck, almost playing at the idea of testing just how tragic your power dynamic really is, he lets out a frustrated noise behind you. He knocks his nose into the side of your face, tealy lamella spotting the surface of his cheek and scratching against yours.

Unfamiliarly low, he grumbles out, “You’d better stop fightin’, girl, because if you spin out of control, there’s no guarantee what’ll happen to you. You’re hurting yourself. Stop it, now, I said.”

That fully frightens you. The scream buried within your throat dies, withers into nothing.

Attenuated, pointed nails graze the soft flesh of your jugular, reminding you of all the horrific, brutal ways he could sunder you in two, but they don’t draw so much as a drop of blood.

“P-Please—“ You sputter, desperately digging at his forearms that make an X over your midriff and collarbone, your toes launching out of the water. Your fight, for as valiant as it is, is sapping you of an impressive amount of energy and at an alarmingly fast rate.

But you can’t stop. You refuse to buckle to him- because to bow your head and agree to give in would be like finally surrendering to the cold reality that has, as of a number of weeks ago, completely shrouded your life.

Y-You can’t admit he’s dead— that you’re entirely crazy, widowed, and in the strictest definition alone—

“Ah-ah, princess,” he murmurs as you heave wildly, “don’t you think that’s enough running away? It’s not fair if I can’t come on land at all, you know. Come and swim with me for a while.” Rafayel coaxes, resuming his more mild demeanor within a blink.

He releases a somewhat exasperated, yet thrilled sigh. It shakes as it leaves his damp lips, blue and fuschia-red eyes glittering with barely repressed delight as he lifts his chin from your shoulderblade.

Then, he leans in towards your ear, and he sings.

⊹⊹⊹

Everything is dream-like.

Birds soar overhead in a breezy circle. They offer a few, occasional squawks that help you to the conclusion of seagulls: paired with the rhythmic, wet purr enveloping you- and the warmth flushing your cheeks- you’d wager you’re at the ocean.

Perhaps a relaxing beach day with your fiancé. He’s laid out the cloth (albeit, it feels oddly… hard, smooth as if the sand beneath is without lumps), and you’ve just stirred from a long nap set to the backdrop of light, gusting sand and crashing whitecaps.

Something in your core throbs.

A particularly tall wave in comparison to the other relatively flat ones smacks against the black rock and cools your skin. Sweat beads at your forehead, the center of your thighs offering a sequence of dull aches that have you feeling weak, wanting nothing more than to let your eyes roll back and stay that way.

You make an incoherent noise as the metaphorical fog clears, buttery, white light warming you. Dawn, you realize hazily, lashes fluttering open gradually, it’s dawn.

…But when you’d last blinked, it was late into the night.

Memories pour back in, a potpourri of muddled events tracing back to this moment- uncertainty startling you upright as—

A hand, firm and a little slimy, presses your belly down.

It bars you from most movement, strong but gentle. A tongue- long and flat and fucking mind-numbing as it laps at your pussy- swirls experimentally against your clit and vibrates with a low, satisfied moan.

Not yours; but the next one that rings out, high and aroused and very, very afraid, is.

You can hardly recognize the sound of it. A thick beat of silence passes before you finally do, brain struggling to reconcile with this startling, admittedly idyllic panorama laid out before you.

A disoriented glance tossed down tells you all you need to know to confirm your fears, a sickness churning so deep in your gut you think it’s plausible you could puke up yesterday’s supper. What spills out from your slack jaw is another helpless, pleasured mewl instead.

Rafayel, mostly submerged in the water but with his upper half braced against the flat rock’s ledge, drapes your legs (trembling, you confusedly note, as if they’ve been positioned that way for a while now) over his broad shoulders to better present his prize and feasts on it like a man starved. One large hand serves as like an anchor on your abdomen, keeping you moored as you positively lose your mind, the other carefully thumbing apart your slick folds.

Somewhere between the span of late last night and very early this morning, he’s gotten them puffy and unbelievably wet, your tight hole clenching around absolutely nothing as his lips- just as swollen and needy- suckle on your tiny bump of nerves.

You rest your head back against the smooth surface of the rock, lukewarm but not quite scorching yet- the sun still moseying its way up the sky, clouds parting to reveal a diluted yellow canvas behind them. Resignation weighs you down better than any hand ever could.

You bite down another moan mixed with a sob and leave dents in the tender tissue of your bottom lip.

He parts with your pussy for just a moment, hesitating like he’s sad to step out from its warmth, knuckling over your labia with a reverence you feel is misplaced considering the circumstances.

He’s cruel when he lifts his eyes to yours, heavy-lidded and utterly transfixed.

The sincere, amorous glint in them is like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, something you couldn’t prepare for or adapt to in time, his head dipping down briefly to pepper a lingering kiss to the gooey seam of you. Mine, everything about the way he gazes up at you says, and, if you don’t believe me then let me prove it.

“You’re gorgeous,” he groans, the dark sphere of his pupils spilling out like ink onto a multicolored canvas. He’s worshipful in nature, but curious- tentative to every little twitch your fatigued face gives, wondering how to push your buttons just right- perhaps above all, just desperate to know if your slick cunt will keep supplying him with that sweet, hot nectar- but it’s been so generous to him thus far, so he figures he’ll just keep on taking.

“It looks just like a seaflower,” he murmurs, breath ragged over the placid lull of the tide as he strokes your flesh, “Like the ones I’d grab from the ocean floor to give you, but so much prettier... Sweeter.”

Rafayel is careful not to hurt you- you can tell, somehow, that he’s fighting tooth and nail with his inner animal, his baser instincts, to keep the last modicum of his control. Hurting you, no matter how accidental or quick, would be detrimental. He knows that. He’s felt it. And to be perfectly honest, he’s quite enjoyed it— but you don’t fall under the category of food or paltry entertainment, no, you’re so much more than that to him.

The pretty, kind girl who kept the brainless town out of your unlikely relationship, who sang her way into his heart and stole it despite himself. His best friend, his sweet little playmate and—

…Mate. Yes, his mate.

“Have you been feeling me?” He asks suddenly. “At home, in bed? I’ve been trying to call out for you,” he relays in an affected pant you wish to unhear as he resumes suckling at your shamefully wet pussy.

You hate this, how worked up he’s managed to get you, how pliant your own body has become as it all but sells itself to him- guilt and confusion swelling in your chest. “I’ve been trying to get you to see how much I like you, princess. B-But it’s like you’ve been shooing me away or something—“

You hardly give any mind to what he’s muttering about, the point of his nose nudging against your sensitive nerves and expediting your release as he licks eagerly at your folds, your whole body trembling with delight. You don’t think you really want to know, anyway.

Sea salt shoots up against the rock, licking your limbs with a cool spritz. He muffles a low breath of amusement into you. “But you’re here now, I guess. Mngh- and you’re so delicious. You’re… fragile though,” he pants, prodding his long, hot tongue against your tiny clenching hole before delving inside it with a violent shudder, his cheeks bright red. “You might have to help me inside, cutie. I don’t exactly wanna break you.”

That stuns you. His words, single-minded and husky, remind you of just how fucked up this all is— and a panic crosses the involuntary fog of your head as you snap it down to get a good look at him.

You were sure merfolk had their own means of reproduction, but it’d never been more than a passing curiosity until now, your heart in your throat as you squint to make out just what he’s working with beneath the water.

Lazily, he looks up to you and smiles when he discovers what you’re doing. It’s a hungered, smitten one, sharp teeth peeking out and all. All your squirming is nothing more than an attempt at self-preservation, unsure of just what he’s endowed with but vaguely knowing- by the size of his tail and difference of species- you sure as hell won’t be compatible with it.

The need to escape is puissant and your limbs begin to move— but they feel oddly leaden, less like flesh and more like stone.

“You wanna see me, pretty girl, yeah? What’re you planning to do?” He coos, swilling away at your watering cunt, nursing from the endless stream of juices like a man possessed. Your fiancé's face flashes before your mind and you make a choked sound.

As if sensing your thoughts, Rafayel lets out a little contented noise and nuzzles against the soft inner portion of your shaking thighs.

“He screamed, just so you know,” a low chuckle rumbles from his chest and warps into a pretty moan. It’s too light and dulcet for comfort, and it feels disproportionate to the general sting of it all. You loathe the unbidden current of arousal that gushes through you at it, wetting his slender fingers as it trickles down the thigh he cuffs.

One final shlick of your throbbing pussy and the merman maneuvers with relative ease onto the rock, his thick tail flopping off at the edge and disappearing into the crystal water. And there’s nothing exactly large about Rafayel’s stature, but he feels heavy as he hovers over you, elbows flanking either side of your head, and the appendage that seems to summon itself between you, drooping with engorged need over your stuttering belly—

You don’t want to look. Too afraid to.

You suppose you don’t have to, anyway: Rafayel grabs your face and cradles your jaw in his smooth palm, hot, labored breaths warming your slack lips. The sun is lifting higher, now, a clementine-gold sky burning like blood low on the horizon. Soon, the temperatures- and his touch as it charts out the most intimate parts of you- will begin to bake your skin.

“He was all bubbly under the water,” he groans with a trace of humor, “but I saw the worry written all over his face. Back then, I’d always wondered why he looked so concerned... not afraid, concerned. But I guess… it was ‘cause he had you to get back home to, huh, cutie?”

Saccharine sweet, he dotes before wrenching your chin up in a desperate, heedless kiss- the action all too cathartic too him but world-stopping for you- and you feel the fat head of something foreign bob between your folds.

“Poor guy,” he moans, voice absolutely ruined as you lurch helplessly beneath him, back arching to accommodate the impossible stretch. You expect it to hurt- to be a searing pain as his massive, inhuman cock spears you apart- but a near blinding delight racks through your body instead as he worms his way inside your walls, wet and primed, your eyes fluttering back.

“But at least his death served a purpose. You’d never have sung for me otherwise. Would never have- went out looking,” he shudders, hanging his head against the sweaty column of your neck, his brilliant-blue tail sloshing in the water on its own accord.

“It’s all thanks to him,” he growls out, tone oozing possession- the innocent little merman you befriended dematerializing before your very eyes. “You’re mine now. Mine.”

And when it’s all said and done, strong, toned arms gathering you up with a low splash as the docks rupture with gradual life, the boots of fisherman croaking over waterlogged wood, and Rafayel takes you under the water- giving you breath with a deep, intimate kiss-

You’ve the feeling that your dreams of reuniting with your lover will fulfill themselves in their own roundabout, warped way.

But you know Rafayel’s not ever letting you go as he undresses your finger of its sparkling ring and tucks you away in his underwater cove— placing you in his nest with reverence before prying apart your numbed legs with rekindled hunger.

Curling across your face, a soaked lock of your hair drifts absently in the still waters and Rafayel thumbs it aside, clipping it back with a little clamshell fashioned as jewelry. He leans over you contentedly, whole body and fluke swallowing you up without difficulty or protest, and happily feeds you oxygen from his lips.

You cling to him helplessly and have no choice— several hundred feet below land level— but to hungrily nurse from him every few hours and pray he won’t make the sudden decision to deprive you of it.

Something in his rippling eyes tells you he won’t, though.

He dips down to paste a lingering peck into your temple, the pad of his thumb roving appreciatively under your eye.

“Don’t you think you’ve seen enough of the land, princess? The brainless humans up there don’t want you anymore, and that’s okay,” he whispers, tiny bubbles floating like balloons before popping. “You belong down here, with me. Who says you need a tail or fins to be one of us?” Mistily, you wonder just what exactly he’s trying to say and who he’s trying to convince of its veracity, a blip of frustration marring his pretty face before it retreats.

“I’ll give you life for as long as I live,” he vows, mouth brushing tenderly against yours as his cheeks puff out and he blows.

“See? Just like this, princess. Just keep holding onto me.”

[ink-n-shadow]

since this drabble i made has over 5k reblogs o_O, i figured it was time to bring back dad!simon

because please just imagine waking up in the middle of the night to simon just staring at the baby monitor you keep on the night stand, one hand resting at the back of his head against the pillow and the other balancing the baby monitor on the soft muscles of his abdomen. his lids are drooping with exhaustion as his tired eyes flit across the screen where your now one year old is stretched out, simon’s frosty lashes fluttering between heavy blinks and his lips stretched into a drowsy smile.

or how one day you walk into your child’s room to see simon sorting through their clothes with a slight wobble in his lip, so subtle that you only pick up when his eyes meet yours. “lil bug’s got so bloody big now. look’it—none of these fit’em anymore,” he huffs out quietly, a sigh leaving his lips as his hand gestures to the rather large pile of clothes that you’d need to either take up to the attic or donate. what you don’t know is that every bag you give simon to donate he just ends up stuffing in the attic instead because the thought of throwing out his bug’s clothes breaks his heart )):

and please imagine simon and the other guys trying to teach bug how to walk, simon crouched down in the middle of your living room as johnny holds the squirming baby up under their arms. “y’ready for’em, simon? reckon bug’s ready—won’t stop tryin’ to kick me off” “jus’ let’em go slowly, ‘kay johnny? don’t wan’em gettin’ hurt or anything” while kyle is crouched at just the right angle to catch the moment on camera. price is in the corner with you, equally as teary-eyed as you are when bug finally takes their first (albeit wobbly) step

[yuuchama]

(Leona Kingscholar x gender neutral reader)

Leona had groaned and ranted against you sleeping in his bed all night. "There's no room," he claimed while sprawled out on a mattress wide enough to fit an entire Spelldrive team. If you laid down to claim the bed's edge, he'd kick you to the carpet or nudge you over the side and quickly pretend to be asleep. The hours he spent coming up with excuses and dirty tricks would have been better spent actually sleeping.

Many times he'd yawn and repeat, "what kind of herbivore willingly crawls into the den of a beast?" while keeping you at arm's length. Every time you thought he was out cold and snuck back over, he'd swat you away. It was a raging battle of endurance.

Yet when morning came, Leona sang a completely different tune. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of staying up late. Perhaps he was just done fighting his feelings. At some point he really did fall asleep, allowing you to take over one pillow and the fringed corner of a blanket. They were temporary luxuries.

You awoke with the heavy prince on top of you, each slow breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled his chin against your shoulder. His arm curled around your head. Strands of long, dark brown hair stuck to your lips. Sunlight poured through the windows, bringing the dry heat of the day with it. You could have cooled off by moving a leg if the prince hadn't hooked his own knee over your thighs.

"Leona...?" You whispered the name. The pressure of his chest pushing down on yours made inhaling an inconvenience. Your hope that he would wake up was successfully answered by a twitch of his ear against your cheek.

"Leona, I can't breathe." Though still half asleep and uncoordinated, you felt uncomfortable. The sensation of pins and needles danced in your hands, along the bottom of your feet, and you wanted to roll over. Leona's tail tuft began to swish lazily, trailing over the hem of your shirt. Bit by bit, it helped you wake. "I want to get up."

You strained to move out from under the mass of muscles, grabbing the mattress's edge to pull yourself up. Leona huffed and buried his face further against your skin. There was an odd sensation at the base of your neck. A little damp, a little sharp, and very warm. Leona gently nipped at your throat until you stopped trying to escape.

"Did you just bite me?" Though tired, you were now fully awake and could take in more of the situation. Leona responded with a sleepy grunt. You retaliated with a couple strikes to his side, weakly aiming for the only spots within reach. "You're hot! Let me up!"

It was the wrong course of action. Leona stirred, only to move his arm across your chest and lock both legs around yours. Fingertips grasped at the fabric of your attire. "Be quiet," he grumbled, turning his face towards yours. He knew you'd talk less if your chin had to fight the weight of his head.

You were more stuck than before. "I can't move."

"Should have listened when I warned you." You were nothing more than captured prey in the lion's embrace.

Leona's chest returned to a rhythmic rise and fall as the morning birdsong lulled him back to sleep. You were going to have to put up with his body heat for a few more hours.

[untoldstar]

yanderes who make you the exception.

Grumpy yandere who’s always glaring at other people and everyone too scared to even approach him. Who’s always rolling his eyes and grumbling when you accuse him of being a softy on the inside but his arguments don’t hold up when he gently pets your head when you doze off on his shoulder, or when you lean down to pick up something you dropped under the table and his palm covers the edge to protect your head from bumping into it.

Grumpy yandere who holds you as you cry over another guy, scolding you and saying “I told you so” he acts like this was expected and that you should have known better but his hand flexes and slightly trembles as he tries to contain his anger.

The next day you you see angry red marks covering his knuckles and a strange text from your ex where he apologizes profusely.

You haven’t changed your mind. He is a softie on the inside but he’s still terrifying….

Serial killer yandere who’s out spilling blood in the dead of night. He comes back home with the screams of his victims still ringing in his head, slowly cracking the bedroom door open to not wake you up, it’s actually a scary sight. A tall dark looming figure lingering around the doorframe. It would scare you if you weren’t used to this by now.

You sit up and reach over to turn on the small lamp on your bedside table. You take one look at him and narrow your eyes, shoving the blanket off your body and making your way over to him, you lightly smack him on his shoulder and his entire body slumps, looking like a kicked puppy “You got blood on your shirt again?! I told you to be careful! and what’s this? Oh my- what happened to your hand?!” you scold him and he pouts; moving closer to sneak his arms around your waist and burry his face in your neck “I’m sorry darling..” he murmurs “I’ll be more careful I promise. Please don’t be angry with me..” He plants soft kisses on your neck and you relent, sighing and rolling your eyes “Fine. Go take a shower. I’m gonna stay up for a while longer.”

This ruthless killer who can crush someone skull with his bare hands can’t bare to make you angry.

He might be the most terrifying thing someone could encounter on the streets but at home, all he wants is to have your attention, your touch, everything you have to offer.

Popular yandere who’s always so fucking perfect. Perfect smile, perfect words, perfect manners. He always had to act perfect but around you…he could just be him. You didn’t expect anything of him. When he’s around you he feels like he’s completely undone. All the restraints that kept him in check all this time completely gone.

He loves you. He loves you so much. He likes that he’s a nervous stuttering mess around you. That you call him cute when he’s too drunk to say a coherent sentence. That you look at him with those understanding eyes and gently caress his hand when he confides in you about his pressure, all that his family expects of him. What the public expects of him. If it were anyone else they would have told him “how good he has it” or that “he shouldn’t complain so much because some people have it worse”.

You listen. You treat him like he’s an actual human. He’s addicted to how he feels when he’s with you and if anyone gets in his way he might just burn it all to the ground. The cars, the mansions, the expensive clothes, all the connections he made. Just to stay in your embrace.

He doesn’t care if everyone leaves his side. They never meant anything to him. As long as you stay by his side he’s the happiest man ever.

Ex soldier yandere who’s seen so much pain in his life. Who’s experienced so much loss and so much hurt he can’t even feel anymore. He spends most of his time drinking and being a complete and total ass to anyone who approaches him. It annoys him that people can be all smiles and giggles when there’s nothing to smile about. That’s just how life is.

And you annoyed him most of all. You approached him one evening while he was drinking in that one dark corner of the bar and something about you made him tick. You had such a bright gleam in your eye and you looked so innocent approaching him out of everyone in that damn bar. As if you actually believed there’d be good in him.

He hated it.

He was meaner than usual that day. He’d usually throw a gruff “leave me alone.” and it’d get the job done but for some reason you pressed all his buttons when you barely even did anything. He figured it didn’t matter as long as it got the job done and it did. You left with your shoulders slumped a pout on your face and he was alone once again.

Except you returned the next day and the day after that and every other day. It unnerved him so much he decided to switch to another bar. So there he was drinking alone in another gloomy bar in a similar dark corner. Everything is exactly how it should be.

Except..it wasn’t. Something felt wrong. A nagging feeling in his chest, something he hasn’t felt before. He looked at the empty chair besides him and your absence gutted him. So he gulped down the last of his drink and made his way back to his old bar where he found you sitting in his usual spot with random man sitting too close besides you, not hiding his intentions at all. And you..you were sad. You were throwing polite smiles at the man but he could tell by your eyes that you were sad.

Did you really have that look on your face because he didn’t show up?

For some reason the thought of him being the one to bring you such sadness made his heart ache. Another thing he hasn’t felt in a long time.

So he pursed his lips and made his way to you, and from his peripherals he noticed how you straightened up and your face lit up as soon as you saw him but he kept his eyes on the man sitting besides you.

He roughly smacks a hand on his shoulder making him jump in his seat “She’s with me. Get your ass out of my chair.” The man narrowed his eyes ready to spit out a reply but ended up pursing his lips and getting up quietly after taking a look at his size. One thing that hasn’t changed about him after going to war is his build. Something that comes in handy in situations like this.

He plops down in his chair with a sigh and gestures to the bartender to get him his usual. You readjust in your seat and flash him a smile “you’re here!” He throws you a glance “Of course I’m here why wouldn’t I be.” you shrug and look down bashfully “I dunno I thought I freaked you out and made you switch to another bar.” He smile softly. You nearly did “No..no. I’m here.” And he’s not leaving you ever again. You nod and start your usual ramblings of your day. He guessed that was the official moment you became his ‘drinking buddy’ as you called your self.

He thought you were annoying at first. You just wouldn’t stop talking. Telling him about your day when he didn’t even ask. But slowly he started looking forward to hearing your voice. It became the only thing that got him through his bleak days. You became the one who got him through all of his darkness. Like a tiny crack of light that slowly get bigger and bigger until it’s all he could see. You wormed your way into his heart.

His short grunts turned into him comfortably talking to you and the soft smile he’d usually hide behind his glass glass turned into grins. He was smiling so damn much round you. Something he hasn’t done in years. And neither of you noticed the side long stares the bartended and some of the regulars exchanged as they witness this change in him. He’s gotten a reputation of being this grumpy man who’s always drunk and glares at anyone who even talks to him until you came along and suddenly he’s gone soft on you.

Only you of course.

His sunshine. His beautiful darling who’ll make it all better.

You made him alive again. You made him feel again. And he’ll be damned if you ever try to leave his side.

me when “I hate everyone except you”:

[pancaake101]

yan! captor ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

imp. notes!!!: noncon photos, masturbation, kidnapping

yan! captor who stalked studied you all the time before taking you. it wasnt hard at all considering his route to wherever was a similar route to your school.

yan! captor who actually didnt JUST study you, he even hired a p.i to gather more info about you when hes busy. your whereabouts, and possibly things he's missed (if any) will get reported to him

yan! captor who would take pictures of you all the time. when he's passing by your favorite hang out spot, you picking up your food order, you taking your books out of the locker, etc.

yan! captor yknow sometimes he'd even take pictures up your skirt if possible. sometimes when the hallways are crowded he gets lucky enough to be right behind you and takes the chance to steal an upskirt picture. look he knows it wrong !!,, he really does but what else can he do? at the time you guys weren't friends and he was so deprived of your touch and attention,, it kills him!! :(

yan! captor who didn't actually consider kidnapping you at first, he thought this was a simple fascination that'd pass. but it didn't. it went from days, to weeks, to months, to eventually almost a full year. and thats when he decided, yeah no i have to have her.

yan! captor especially when the summer had came around, it was so hard!! he was so deprived of your face everyday that he just resorted to passing your house and sneaking glances through your window. he even considered breaking in but realized it'd be too risky :(

yan! captor who often heard you and your friends talking. he'd often eavesdrop and even sometimes record it to listen back. he once heard you talking about your type and it was commonly agreed among you that you guys like a guy more on the fit side. not overly muscle-y, or bodybuilder type. just a guy who takes care of himself, and if he's being honest he hasnt been on his self care as much as he should've. to be fair, it's because you take up all his attention!! being your future boyfriend is just so time consuming, it should be considered a hobby !!

yan! captor who took the initiative to go to the gym and actually start taking care of himself! he developed a skin care routine and spends at least an hour at the gym everyday. ugh he can't thank you enough for reminding him of this!! he can't remember the last time he gave himself this amount of careful attention :,)

yan! captor who was driving in his car but slowed down when he recognized you. it was a slow day, hardly any cars were occupying the street, and so he couldnt help himself and took the risk!! he grabbed you as swift as he could and lifted you into his car. it was so easy to pick you up considering him finally developing a good self care plan.

yan! captor who is oh so giddy to finally have you in his arms! although you were screaming and trying to kick him off of you while putting you in the car, it was so adorable and honestly kind of attractive. although that had to come to an end quick because he had to knock you out to silence you. even though it made him very sad to hurt you in such a way, what else could he have done? you were screaming like a banshee. it hurt and it could've alerted the authorities!

yan! captor who promises to take such good care of you now that you're in his care!!, it might be hard to keep suspicion about your disappearance under control but he will do anything to keep suspicion on his part. he'll even kill if need be

౨ৎ

[esvcort]

cw: 18+ content, penetration, caleb fucks you while he's on the phone!, not beta read i'm too horny for that, that's literally it idek

caleb would answer an important phone call concerning matters of the farspace fleet while he's legit balls deep inside of you.

bro has your legs resting on his shoulders while pistoning his thick cock over and over, fucking your cervix to oblivion and you just hear him talking in that colonel voice about a report on their last mission.

you are literally fighting for your life trying to stay quiet because you're getting dicked down so good that it has your whole body shaking, and this asshole has the audacity to fucking chuckle at your state while he keeps thrusting his stupid cock inside you.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[astraystayyh]

the premise : u apply lipgloss on felix because ofc he suits glossy lips except it takes an emotional turn???? because felix is perfect sorry. this is fluffyyyy and the sanest reaction to this man being ur bf (and these pics. these pics....)

“lixie, stay still,” you giggle, body nestled between felix’s legs. He's leaning against the bathroom counter, hands propped on the sleek ebony marble as you apply a shimmering lip gloss to his lips.

“but don't you wanna know what changbin said to me?”

“of course i wanna know what creative pickup line he used on you today. of course i do, baby,” you smile and he rolls his eyes at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, his tongue poking against his cheek before gliding in (fake) annoyance over his lips.

“but…” he muses, tilting his head to the side, his hands finding your waist once again (they've been away for two minutes too long).

“but when your mouth moves i can't technically apply lipgloss to it.”

“maybe you're just a bad make-up artist,” he teases, before quickly planting a kiss on your temple. “kidding baby. you're the very best at everything you do.”

“you're actually incapable of being mean,” you laugh heartily, your thumb swiping across his chiseled jaw.

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he pouts, his eyes widening slightly, golden light spilling into his pupils— it refracts into an arrow delving straight into your heart.

“you can't say this in the softest voice and expect me to agree.”

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he repeats, only this time his timber is many many octaves lower. his voice reverberates straight through your stomach, a deep melody orchestrating the untamed butterflies in your stomach.

“this is the equivalent of a kitten throwing a punch to me,” you pull his face closer, and he shakes his head, mouth shut tightly as you reapply the glitter infused gloss on his lips, going delicately over his cupid's bow. his eyes are boring onto you, yet you don't shy away from his gaze. it is a kind one— like a blanket knitted with love thrown over your body.

“done,” you whisper, hands trailing up to his hair, blonde silky locks akin to threads of sunlight. you think he must be favored by the stars— how they stored the sun inside every component of his being for him to keep safe.

“you have the prettiest lips,” your voice is suddenly hoarse, thumb grazing slightly over his lips, ones shaped like a heart�� akin to the one freckle he has right underneath his eye.

it wasn't enough for him to have the kindest soul, no, love needed to be etched onto his skin too.

“felix,” you rasp out his name.

he catches your tears before you sense them falling, swiping his thumbs delicately on your cheek. “angel?”

“you're an idiot.”

“am i?” he brings you to his chest swiftly, your nose buried in the orange blossoms and sea notes of his skin— your home, the one you'd recognize in blindness, in despair, in safety, in love.

“i wanted to apply this lipgloss on you because shimmer would suit your angelic lips and then we'd make out. but you just had to be so beautiful and pure that it makes me wanna cry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says and you giggle, more tears spilling from your eyes.

“see, this is what i mean. why are you apologizing. this is so silly and you're so perfect and i can't believe you love me.”

“well i do,” he leans away, kissing your forehead tenderly. the sticky lip gloss lingers on your skin. “i love you so much, angel. i will only ever love you.”

“promise me?” you ask in a feat of vulnerability almost foreign to your being.

“i promise.”

you believe him.

“thank you. please don't put this lipgloss near anyone else or it'll make them cry too.”

“i think that's just you baby,” he grins, his thumb swiping over your thigh comfortingly, then, his nose brushing against your own. “kiss?”

you close your eyes, a sigh of relief, of longing escaping your body. “please.”

to be loved by felix— maybe you're the one favored by the stars after all.

[geronimomo-spd]

i keep saying that everything changes when you figure out that 11 knew he was the absolute last incarceration of The Doctor, and it does!

for one, it makes the doctor wanting to stay with amy and rory exactly like a senior dog wanting to spend him last days in the sun being pampered and spoiled

[chrollohearttags]

nobody knows • portgas d. ace

another drabble for sneaky link/ex boyfriend ace bc I have one functioning brain cell and all of it is focused on him atm teehee 🤭

wc: 1.8K

more infidelity (y’all both still AIN’T SHIT 😭 reader got that dog in her I’m sorry), straight porn, modern au, black fem reader, phone sex/sexting, squirting, oral sex, calls reader bitch, a eating + anal, recording, backshots, rough sex, heavy breeding, idk what else will come out

he’s so ooc in this and I don’t give a fuck (I’m ovulating and stressed w life + therapy is too expensive)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nobody knows why you and ex-boyfriend!ace broke up in the first place. Honestly, it seemed like such a waste…three long years down the drain with nothing to show for it but the two of you left in shambles. Friends and family consoling you both as you learned to navigate life without one another. (Y/N), moving on fairly quickly with the son of one of your dad’s friends..a byproduct of military nepotism and the very antithesis to what Ace was. A stiff working a cushy desk job and reaping the benefits..pushing papers and always playing it safe. He was very kind, sweet and damn near ideal in every sense of the word. Not too much of a drinker, a partygoer or anything of the sort but he always took you on dates. All of your girlfriends liked him well enough, thinking that he more matched your speed than the thrill seeking, goofy, chaotic daredevil that was ex-boyfriend!ace. Who rode motorcycles and climbed mountains in his spare time, when he wasn’t holding life by the tips of his fingers as an EMT. Covered in tattoos, he looked like such a quintessential, stereotypical ‘bad boy’… “God, (y/n). I don’t know what you ever saw in that guy. He’s a loser, through and through.”

However, what nobody knows..is that you never truly left him alone! He was your ideal match and you couldn’t shake it. You could actually laugh, joke and make mistakes with him. There was no need for faux perfection and lies. You saw each other for who you really were.

Nobody knows that while you’re at work, he’s constantly sending you filthy messages to get you aroused and worked up. Making you chew your lip and the tip of your pen as you twirl in your chair..reading how he’s going to make sure you feel it in your stomach the next time you two link. Nobody knows he shamelessly sends you nut videos, uttering your name with the sexiest moans. Nobody knows that when you tell your assistant that the hour where you refuse any meetings is designated for you to choke on ex-boyfriend!ace’s cock in your cute little business attire..loving the way those glasses hang off the tip of your nose as he pushes your forehead to his pelvis.

“Goddamn, babe..I knew I couldn’t quit you..you’re eating my dick up so good.”

“It’d taste even better if you let me come on it first.”

loving that you were willing to abandon all of your morals for him so easily. Nobody knows about the second phone you keep stashed away in your glovebox just to call him late at night when your new man is sleeping or working overnight and you want some company..

“Can you please come over? I miss you..he won’t be back tonight. I promise.”

“Of course, baby. Anything for you..I’ll always come running when you tell me.”

or in need of a good orgasm because that dummy couldn’t give you one if you handed him a roadmap to the clit! With ex-boyfriend!ace on the other line talking you through it with that deep voice and lewd commands.

“Oh my gosh, pretty girl. Did you call me just so you could touch yourself to the sound of my voice? You’re so cute..” making you FaceTime him because he wants to see the mess he helped create.

nobody knows that whilst you're out at dinner with your new man, alongside loved ones as he boasts about how he knows you’re the one and how you guys make such a lovely couple, (y/n) is daydreaming about ex-boyfriend!ace riding you on the back of his Suzuki through the city, knowing the rush gets you turned on. That rather than dealing with an insecure little boy who felt intimidated by your looks and success, ex-boyfriend!ace would go drinking and partying with you, loving when you showed off your body because he wasn't worried about another man taking what was his. Nobody knows that you have a small tattoo of ex-boyfriend!ace’s name right above your private area. Hell, it's not as if your new man touched you enough to notice and when he did, the lights remained off.

When your girlfriends are divulging the dirt about their relationships and how envious they are of you. Claiming that you hit the jackpot with such a structured, well mannered guy who works a high paying job and always comes home to you. But what nobody knows…is that he could never replace the man you truly love. So much so, when you kiss him on the cheek that Friday evening before heading to the ‘airport’ for another business trip..you’re secretly meeting ex-boyfriend!ace in the top floor suite at a luxury hotel hours away from home where you two go every month to fuck each other's brains out for three days straight. Akin to addicts who can’t be satisfied, you rabidly devour one another until your bodies quit.

“I’ve waited all week for this…I’m so not sorry for how I’m about to fuck you.” ”I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he corners you against a wall. Nobody knows that ex!boyfriend!ace has you face down on a mattress with your ass up in the air as his tongue explores both of your entrances. Practically seating you on his face to suction around that clit, flicking his tongue in and out of your tight cunt before prodding your asshole, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva on each of them. Because you wore that adorable little heart shaped plug to help prep you for the weekend.

“You taste so fucking good…especially when I know you’ll let me have it anytime I want.”

nobody knows that you’re somewhere gripping the sheets for dear life as ex-boyfriend!ace delivers the most insane backshots you’ve ever felt. Those perfectly round, thick cheeks ricocheting off of his lower half..the contrast in your skin and that pearlescent scream surrounding his shaft making the sight even better…ripping orgasms from your body with no shame because he deserves it. After all, you belong to him.

“That’s right..come on this dick, bitch. Give me what I want..” he still loves and respects you all the same. But ace knows you prefer rough, degrading sex far more than the mundane and vanilla. Especially when it was in short supply with your current situation. Even going as far as to place a foot on your head, tugging your arms behind your back so that he can really bury his cock inside of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee, just like that, daddy. ‘S so good!”

“You love when I dig you out like this, treating you like a little slut..’swear this pussy’s going to get me in some serious trouble one day. But I don’t care, I love you.”

rambling on as he feels you twitching around him for the third time, leaving splatters of warm juices each time; squirting immensely from the constant stimulation to your spot.

“Damn, you’re coming so hard, pretty girl. Is he not fucking you right?” Laughing before he could even get the very rhetorical question from his mouth. Leaning down to place a trail of pecks and licks on your spine to console you before placing you into a prone position. ”Of course not..nobody knows this body better than me. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?” All but confirmed by the way you’re tightening around him..he can’t help but to grip your throat and steal sloppy kisses from you whilst he drills you into the mattress. “Nooo, babyyy. You’re the only one who can fuck me this good..oh my Goddd—“ placing his camera in your face so that he could have it for safekeeping..(and in case he gets wind of your man running his mouth about him again!) Making you call his name and scream it to the heavens. “Aceeee, fuck meeee..”

Nobody knows that you’ve been fucking for damn near an hour while your phone buzzes with missed calls and texts from your boyfriend and whatever little girl he’s deciding to entertain for the moment. As heinous as it was, you were just filling the void and you’d always find your way back to each other. Perhaps it was the thrill of sneaking around that kept this charade going. Either way, you weren’t giving each other for a long time and it’s so obvious why..no one else will do the freaky shit that you both crave so much.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck your ass again..feels amazing.” glaring up at him with the most adoring gaze in your eyes and smile on your face as you proudly hold a vibrator to your clit..allowing him to stretch that opposite opening. Practically coming on spot when you began to show your gratitude for this pleasure…

“Thank you, daddy..using all my holes like this. I love it so much.” That much apparent by the tears pouring down your face alongside that toothy grin. Only he could give it to you so good, you begin to cry!

“Oh shit..of course, gorgeous girl. I’d do anything for you..anything to see my baby smile.” Including pinning you down by your throat and letting trails of saliva drip into your mouth. Even feeding you a couple slaps when you all but pleaded with him to treat you like an object.

nobody knows that on the sparse occasions when you have sex with your current man, he’s forced to wear a condom because you’ve discussed several times that you don’t want children and you’re not taking any risks. But ex-boyfriend!ace gets the privilege of feeling that hard cock sliding in and out of you raw..and to breed you as many times as he can muster! Letting load after load spill into your aching womb. Filling every hole with that dripping seed.

“You look so pretty stuffed with my cum, sweetheart. Just how I like it.”

nobody knows why you left ex-boyfriend!ace in the first place but you knew why you’d always come running back!

@violetxxvenom @shamelesshoefairy @lwop-kpop

[saintbusan]

Gods finest creation. Like he’s the prettiest men on earth, such a pretty doll

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

based on this cus i couldn't help myself. fluff n kissing and lowkey iida stray😭 3rd year suki :3

"m'gonna kill you."

normally, most people would be extremely confused, if not terrified at someone wrapping their arms around their waist from behind and those words being growled in their ear.

though not terrified, you are a little confused as to why your boyfriend would say this to you. while also nuzzling into your uniform.

"katsuki, what ?"

"m'gonna fuckin' kill you, if you don't wanna die get ready to tusle." he reiterates, the seriousness in his voice confuses you even more but you can't help but laugh a bit.

"why, what'd i do ?"you chortle. immediately you're spun around and pressed against the abnormally large door of your classroom. you'd been leaning on it waiting for him after you couldn't walk to class together like you usually do since mina had asked you to walk with her to the vending machine to get a snack before class. you figured it'd be okay since you texted him and he read your message but didn't respond, it's a classic petty katsuki move so you thought nothing of it.

but now it's looking like maaayybee you should've.

"ya fuckin' left without me this morning." ah, thought so.

"oh ?" you giggle. he doesn't look amused, glaring harder at you "yeah." he urged. "abandoned me so you could run off with racoon eyes."

"and that's why you're gonna kill me ? cus i didn't give you your morning kiss ?" you tease, voice quivering as you hold in your laughter.

"yup. hope you said your prayers." you roll your eyes, looking around the empty hallways before you decide to make your move. it seemed your teacher was going to be arriving a little late and since everyone had already headed to class the coast was clear.

wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you give him your sweetest eyes. you squeeze at him when he keeps glaring, he grunts.

"we don't have to take it that far.." you muse, pulling him closer to you, his lip twitches as he looks down at you. you get up a little closer to his face, smirking. "shoulda thought about that, sweets." he grumbles, sarcastically spitting the petname. keeping his arms on the door behind you. he's tough, but you're not done yet.

slowly you trail your arms up all the way around his neck, tugging him closer to you innocently. his ears redden the slightest bit, his mouth turns downwards harder and he's basically squinting at you. oh, you got him.

" oooorr..i could just..give you a morning kiss now..? wouldn't that be better ? if you kill me, who will give you your morning kisses then, hm ?" the sudden thought of your boyfriend finding somebody else as childish as it is makes a little salty, so you scrunch your nose up at the air " don't answer that."

at that, he cracks a smile, obviously proud to see the effect his insufferable self has on you. leaning in until your noses are a breath away from eachothers he smirks, usually he'd comfort you about your worries, but he knows better than to answer lest you get cranky and he doesn't get his kiss at all "fine." he grunts finally, his arms suddenly wrap around you, pulling you completely to his chest. he smirks when you splutter in surprise.

he grins "better make this one good, otherwise you owe me five more."

he says though he doesn't let you go after you've pressed your lips to his once..or the second time, pulling you closer to him and grumble when you try to pull away for a third kiss "stop squirmin'" he complains, arms squeezing you closer as you giggle about someone seeing you. katsuki bites at your lip, causing you to gasp. he breathes heavily "i don't care. gimme my kiss." he insists.

and how could you deny him ? you really couldn't, even as you hear your class rep gasp about how indecent and inappropriate you're both being. katsuki pulls away just slightly to grumble against your lips. and he shoots you a look, making a face to make fun of the boy scolding you both, you snort loudly and cover your mouth hoping he hasn't heard you.

katsuki is as unbothered as ever, snickering to himself that he was able to make you laugh, and he doesn't need anything else. he shoots iida a look, tells him him to fuck off, then dives in for one more kiss. he grabs your hand to drag into the classroom. he ignores iida as he continues lecturing you both, sending him a middle finger.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 ALL OVER YOU

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; established relationship, fluffy and sappy but also a bit suggestive (they're smooching and grinding), satoru loves praise what's new, shoutout to majid jordan for the title<3 wc: 1.7k

satoru can't stop smiling, his heart won't stop racing – you're all over him and he's never felt more giddy.

your hips grind into his slowly but surely, your hands cradling his jaw and the back of his neck; your nails scrape against his undercut as you drag your lips over his pulse point.

i love you.

butterflies dance in his stomach and he let's out a shaky laugh. his whole body feels as if it's on fire – dark pink blooms all across his chest, reaching up his neck where your hot breath only ignites it even more. his cheeks, his lips, his nose, the tips of his ears; but you're no better. warmth spreads from your fingertips and the palms of your hands, your own chest as you rub against him. the fire crackles every time your boyfriend let's out a content whine, completely blissed out from the love you're drowning him with.

your thighs burn, too. squeezing them around his, you rock yourself back and forth, feeling the growing bulge in his pants. but there's no rush – you both want it, desperately so, but you're taking your time today.

today, you are greedy. you are insatiable; your desire lies in making satoru feel good. you want to praise him, to fill his head with the sweetest words, to fill his heart with your overbearing love. it's his day. and he's not complaining.

pulling back a little, you settle right on top of his aching, clothed cock to you admire him. "you're s'pretty, baby."

it comes out like a coo; smooth and sticky – your voice is the perfect trap for him. you ruffle his hair with a hungry grin, the messy white strands falling in front of his eyes as his own bashful smile stretches wider and wider. it feels like heaven – to be in this moment with you. it's exciting, it's fun; you're humping like a couple of teenagers but despite the undeniable horny air around you – it's a hundred times more intimate than it would seem.

"yeah?"

just a little cocky, exactly the way you like it – he wants your praise, he wants it all and you will give it to him without a second thought. no teases, no witty remarks; you love him and you will show him so.

fingers carding through his hair, you push them away again so you can see him better. his forehead, the apples of his cheeks. his scars and his freckles. his dimples. he looks beautiful. "yeah."

your eyes are softer than ever and there's no denying your affection for him. so satoru does the only thing he can, and it's to stare back at you with the exact same expression. it's hard not to mirror you when he feels like he's about to burst. in more than one way.

leaning closer again, satoru feels your warm lips against his forehead. his hands slip under your shirt, eager to really feel you; slender fingers glide over your lower back, making goosebumps rise on your skin. he circles around your middle, unable to stay still while you press another kiss to one of his eyebrows.

and another to his closed eye. and another right under the other eye. his manicured nails dig into you and they form crescent moons, the prettiest reminders of his loving touch for you to admire later. he guides you down a little, hissing when you push your body more against him, your back arching in the process.

a kiss to his nose, to the scar the left side of his face and then to another up above it. to the corner of his lips. his smile widens again, there's no escaping it. yours does the same as you continue teasing him by not giving him a proper kiss. you press onr to the side of his nose, one to another scar. satoru gives your hips a squeeze, a quiet giggle escaping him as he blindly chases your lips.

"you're s'good to me, you know."

that catches him a bit off-guard, but you don't give him a moment to question it, finally placing your lips to his.

fireworks. the taste of candy, of something sweet.

you fit together like you're meant to.

you hold his jaw as if he's about to slip away while his arms go to snake around your waist again. closer, closer, closer. your tongues meet in the middle, smacking against each other as you prepare to devour one another. there isn't even an inch between you, your bodies stuck together like glue. hushed whimpers tumble from satoru's lips the more you grind on his bulge; you know he's making a mess in his pants already. he never holds anything back and you love that about him – he isn't afraid to show you how much he loves you, how hot and bothered you make him.

a louder one breaks through and your chest swells with pride. you use the opportunity to tilt his head back, forcing him to rest it against the head rest as you nip at his jaw. the man below you shivers and his hips buck up into yours on their own accord.

"my handsome boy." a trail of saliva coats his neck as you move from one side to another. "mine all mine."

oh, and how he flourishes under you. adam's apple bobbing, his eyes screw themselves shut as he takes in everything you're giving him. his cheeks hurt from smiling, he still hasn't stopped. he's never been happier.

he's being worshipped in a way he's never been before and for the first time in his life, he's accepting it. he will edge himself until the term 'blue balls' truly resonates if that means you will keep pampering him like you're doing right now. praise after praise, kiss after kiss. a tug of the hips, marks on your skin. wanton moans and wandering hands. this is what he deserves.

you bite down onto his earlobe ever so gently and earn a deep hum. he's so fucking warm, it feels like he's about to overheat but he's not complaining. the pink looks good on him anyway.

"satoru..." you purr directly into his ear and laugh quietly when he squirms.

"mm?"

"look at me."

now wasting even a second, his crystalline eyes crack open and look for you. wrong move – like a minx, like a little devil you sit on top of him, your lips wet with your own saliva and the taste of him, staring at him with keen eyes almost as if you're going to eat him whole. he gulps at the sight and his fingers sink deeper into your skin.

"you're everything to me."

for the second time you've caught him off-guard. he expected something more along the lines of 'you're the best' or 'you're so funny' or 'you're so cute'. and he would've welcomed those compliments with open arms, but now you're here tugging at his heart strings while he's sitting hard as a rock below you. he can't take it, he might actually die.

satoru let's out a broken groan and then tries to hide his face behind his hand at the slight embarrassment that creeps up his throat. but it's very fucking difficult to do so when the sound of your laughter reaches his ears. your fingers curl around his own as you try to tear them away from his face.

"don't hide from me, what the fuck." more chuckles. you're killing him.

"m'not hiding, i was just.. uh.. luring you to me again."

"right, right..." when you finally manage to intertwine your fingers with his, you press another haste kiss to his lips. "as if i'm actually going anywhere, stupid."

it's something to see a person smile and it's something to make them do it, but to feel it? to truly feel it against you – it's something truly special. there's no way to describe it and satoru is more than grateful for you and the fact that he can experience this type of thing when he thought he never would.

"jus' wanted to see how red you are..."

...

he gasps into your mouth and pinches your side, clasping his hands around you before you can even try to escape his wrath. his eyes meet yours and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch – you know what's coming.

bursts of laughter fill your shared apartment as satoru's fingers dance on your sides, the tickling touch making you squirm and twitch on his lap. his smile reaches behind his ears again as he looks at you. he's your everything? him? satoru gojo?

he doesn't know what to do with that information. it's a little overwhelming, but he refuses to shut down at the newly found emotions that are searing inside his ribcage. you're here and you love him. you're here and you're giving him his all. he's your everything.

you're his everything.

he curses at himself in his head for not being more original but he makes a promise to show his appreciation to you through actions. he will buy you even more flowers, he's going to kiss you more, he's going to hug you more. he's going to spoil you more. he's going to thank you more. he's going to love you more.

(as if that's even possible.)

after giving his shoulder a playful shove, you settle down onto his lap calmly as you try to catch your breath. he twitches in his pants and averts his gaze in the most dramatic way possible and you don't even try to hold back a cackle.

"you're dumb."

"wha– " his eyes flick back to yours in an instant. "what happened to all the sexy and super loving words, hm?"

pawing at his neck, you pull him close so your noses are brushing together. "don't worry, you're my stupid, okay? my pretty boy; my sun, my moon, my stars. my angel, my little flower."

hearts swim in his eyes as you stare at him at the most unflattering angle of all times. it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter at all.

his hands rest on your waist, his gaze on yours. soft smiles and dimples – it's so easy with him. it's easy to love him.

you don't even have to think about the next words. they form on the back of your tongue, the letter bounce around in your mouth like a piece of bubblegum. so sweet, just like him.

"i love you."

[starsofang]

thinking about johnny being completely smitten with an extremely reserved reader <3

johnny was head over heels from the very beginning. he couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but maybe it was when you first joined the force. at the initial greeting, he’d struck you with one of his bright smiles, only for a blank canvas to stare in return.

you hadn’t said a word, not a peep, and while others would be turned off by such reclusiveness, he was in awe.

an enigma, you were, and johnny was someone who loved a good puzzle.

you were cold and distant, but not in the way that was cruel and unnerving. you didn’t throw out snarky comments, you didn’t show a single bit of rudeness when somebody’s ticked you off. you weren’t hard headed, nor did you pitch a fight. you were a calm sea with peaceful waves lapping at the shore. a light rain on a dry day, one where in ancient times would’ve been a blessing from the gods. as cold as snow, but the kind that layered the ground in a fresh sheet of white right after a blizzard, painting the earth with powdered beauty.

if anything, you weren’t cold at all. you were just so incredibly awkward that johnny couldn’t help but be smitten by it.

you were that type of awkward where social cues were nearly impossible for you to comprehend. jokes didn’t land quite right whenever somebody made them, and you’d give a blank look to whomever fell victim, added on with a dumb “what?” because you didn’t understand it.

johnny’s been an unfortunate victim on many occasions. he’s always the type to nudge you on the shoulder with a crooked grin as he spilled out whatever joke ghost had told him over comms, only to be met with your complete and utter confusion.

that never stopped him, though. if anything, it made him much more determined to search up more jokes on the screen of a burner phone, reading through every single one and noting them in the back of his mind.

you were also as stone-faced as could be. some theorized you were a robot, others thought you were a demon in disguse. an experiment, placed into 141 as a trial run.

really, expressing yourself just wasn’t your thing.

you felt emotions, sure. plenty of them. you could find the humor in the occasional bar night with the force, amused at the linger of carefree conversation that carried between the men. you just didn’t show it.

it wasn’t something you realized until johnny had made the point of asking you if you ever smiled. thinking back on it, you recalled never directly doing so. you’d do it in your head, but when it came down to it, no, no you didn’t.

johnny was determined when keeping a goal in mind, and found himself ruthlessly running towards that goal of seeing you smile. he was enamored in the thought of seeing the slant of your lips when they curved upwards, in seeing your eyes crinkle and glimmer with delight, and he’d go through every single joke website in order to make it happen.

it took him an approximate year of you being in the force to get it to work.

it was lame, really. hardly one of his best jokes, he’d drunkenly slurred out, “what rank are all cats in the army? corpurrral,” with a tongue roll effect to go with it.

you had burst into laughter, filling the bar air with ringing church bells that he swore made the drunken state of his mind believe he was truly on his way to heaven. the gates had opened, inviting him in. he was levitating, slowly floating his way to the clouds.

your smile was like a breath of air — refreshing. it filled his lungs with such purity that all the cigarettes he’d smoked over the years of being in the force seemingly melted the thick layer of tar away, leaving him clean and refurbished.

it was like a drug, and johnny found himself seeking more out to get another taste, even if it took him another year to do so.

this is lowkey self insert bc this is my personality offline and i think other people who are so painfully awkward with socializing are cute and deserve love. wrote this with no sleep and a dream, silly ramble before i go to bed

i also just really love johnny, goodnight

[thepagemistress]

Thinking half-thoughts but like... what if, in order to pull Cas out of the Empty, Jack had to leave the vessel behind? I've seen theories on getting Cas out by leaving the grace behind (which does make more sense lore-wise) but stick with me...

They can't get the vessel back or create a new one whilst it still exists (whatever, the logistics aren't the point) and obviously Claire is the only other bloodline vessel which isn't even worth entertaining. So essentially Cas is stuck in Heaven in his true form. And in the beginning, he did try and check in on Dean but it hurt too much to see him so listless and spiralling and not being able to do anything about it so he just went cold turkey and threw himself into helping Jack rebuild Heaven.

Until he feels a barrage of emotions so strongly that it would have brought him to his knees were he to still have any. Pain, regret, sadness, acceptance, hope... a cacophony of chaos and he knows the source immediately. And he knows the reason. Dean is dying. It's barely been the blink of his many eyes and Dean's already dying. And there's nothing he can do about it.

But he could at least be there for him, even if Dean can't see him or know he's there. So he flies down to some decrepit barn to find Dean and Sam. Immediately, he is overcome with the need to FIX-IT. Why should he accept this? Why are any of them just accepting this?? If only he could...

And then an awareness shakes him to his core. The vessel is willing. The vessel has given permission. And Cas doesn't give himself time to talk himself out of it. He'll beg forgiveness later, just as long as Dean is alive.

And so he possesses him. Sam's still cradling his face and crying when Cas speaks through Dean's voice. "Pull him down."

Sam sniffs. Blinks. Frowns. It takes him longer than it usually would to connect the dots. Too long. "Sam!"

Sam starts and makes a grab for a weapon he doesn't have. "Who are you?"

"It's me," Cas says, also not thinking too straight through his own panic and the sudden onslaught of Dean's emotions battering him from the inside. "I can't heal him with the rebar still in. Hurry!"

Sam isn't hurrying. "Cas?"

"Sam, please!"

In a display of trust that Cas will be grateful for later, Sam finally bursts into action, pulling Dean from the beam, marvelling at how Cas keeps him upright. Then he begins to heal him from the inside, pouring his renewed grace into the wound and the rest of his body just because why not when he's already there?

Blinking Dean's eyes open, he finds Sam waiting, anxious. A nod from Cas has Sam sucking in a breath and launching himself forward to hug Dean. Or Cas. Or both.

It's nice. He wishes he could stay but he's done what he needed to and it was time to leave them to it. Shrugging out of Sam's grip, he offers a sad smile as he says, "I'll be waiting for you both. Just take your time about it, please."

It's clear Sam wants to argue but he needs to leave, now. And so he does.

Or...doesn't?

With a frown, he tries again. But still he remains. And Sam is now arguing but Cas can't focus, he's too busy panicking. And Dean is hammering on the little door in his mind that Cas put up to dull the unpleasant feeling of being possessed and Cas tries sending him reassuring pulses that yes, he's trying, he'll be out soon. But strangely that just increases the pounding which take on an edge of desperation until Cas has no choice but to open the door and-

"DON'T YOU FUCKING LEAVE ME AGAIN."

Everything stops. The pounding in his head, the tether on his grace, the desire to flee. The only thing that remains is an overwhelming sense of anticipation. And Sam still rambling about something that is probably very heartfelt and that Cas absolutely could not give a shit about right now.

To test a theory, Cas tries again to exit the vessel, only to have what he now realises is Dean's soul clamp down on his grace, keeping it rooted, nestled inside him.

"You ain't going anywhere, sunshine," comes Dean's shaky voice from inside his head. "We got some shit to talk about, you and me."

And so talk they do. And when Cas says that he's without a vessel and that's why he hasn't been by, Dean tells him that now he does. Just like that. As if he hasn't spent the entire time Cas has known him trying to avoid being a meat suit for an angel. But Cas can hear the eye roll as Dean says that Cas has been the exception to that rule for awhile. He made his peace with that fact years ago. Which explained the open permission he seemed to have.

"So, listen. We'll try to figure out how to get your body back. But, if we can't? Don't be using that as an excuse to not visit, yeah?"

If Cas had the choice, he'd never leave.

A flash of warmth roll through him, reminding Cas that he's not alone with his thoughts right now.

"Well. That'd be OK with me, too."

Cas smiles with Dean's lips. But that's OK because Dean's smiling too.

"...Have you listened to anything I just said?" Sam asks.