#I jut really like drawing action okay...

[deoidesign]

It's my right to tell myself I can do just a little animation just for fun just for really quick to do some action and then spend 3 days straight on it

[chrysalind]

sweet and sour

pairing: suna rintarou x reader wc: 880 tags: fluff, fake dating, (real) jealousy, party setting ofc, reader wears makeup and is shorter than suna

Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.

It had been after his last linear algebra exam, during his third consecutive hour of mourning, when it finally occurred to him that it didn't matter. Of course, it mattered in the sense that it would affect his GPA, and as a result, his job prospects, career, ability to be approved for a mortgage and become a homeowner, and of course his retirement. But in a more 'in the moment' sense, it didn't matter at all.

This was because, he'd rationalized, it had already happened and there was no use agonizing over it after the fact. And so, for a few short days, Suna abided by the belief that if he couldn't change something, he simply wouldn't bring himself to care about it.

So when you drag him into the tiny bathroom of someone's apartment with a swipe of glitter under your left eye and a frazzled expression on your pretty face, Suna is fully prepared to put his new philosophy into action.

The door shuts behind you, muffling the din of music and people and he tries not to think about how precariously close your drink is to the edge of the sink when you set it down.

"I need a favour," you begin, wringing your wrists as he tries not to fall backwards into the shower. It is, in fact, a very tiny bathroom.

"Nah," he replies, managing to right himself against the towel rack.

"'Nah'?" you repeat, jutting out your bottom lip. "But you don't even know what I'm going to ask."

He rationalizes that it can't be anything worth putting in the effort for. Therefore would it even make sense for him to hear you out? He thinks not.

However, as he eyes the door behind you, your face bobs into view, obstructing his path to escape.

"Please," you whine, dropping down from a tippy toe. "Just hear me out."

He glances once at his reflection in the mirror before his gaze slides up to the ugly white light on the ceiling.

"Fine."

"Yes," you exclaim, your elbow narrowly missing the cup. Suna looks away.

"Okay, so my ex is here with his new girlfriend," you begin, your hands moving fast, "and so I would really, really be so grateful if you could maybe, possibly, pretend that we're together."

He blinks. "Nah."

Your face falls. "But I'm gonna look like a loser out there."

He wonders if the glitter is supposed to draw attention to your eyes. If so, why just one side?

"That doesn't even make any sense," he says. "No one cares that you're single." After all, no one cares that he's single. Except for himself, sometimes, although, he's learning to let go of that.

You're pouting again. "I care. And I'm pretty sure that he cares. Chiharu said that he told the other guys on the soccer team that he was bringing her because he knew that I'd be here. Like, isn't that kind of fucked up?"

Something like irritation wriggles in his brain but he quickly shuts that down. After all, what can he really change about the situation? Even if he does pretend to be your boyfriend for tonight, your ex will continue to be a convincing piece of evidence that Neanderthals might still walk amongst modern humans. And even then, you'll still be hung up on him and things between you two will just stay the same. So why should he bother?

"I'm gonna pass," he says dryly, squeezing past you to get to the door. Your elbow brushes against the cup and it falls, clattering into the sink and splashing red liquid down the sides.

"Just tell him to go fuck himself or something," he shrugs, before twisting the doorknob. "Or just pretend he's not there at all."

"But Rin," you pout as he lets the chaos of the party flood into the small space, "I thought we were friends."

And you are friends, he thinks, as he shoulders his way back through the crowd. That's the problem.

That's the fucking problem.

So when he spots you, fifteen minutes later, with your back up to a wall and that Cro-Magnon specimen crowding you, he thinks it's finally time to seriously reconsider his philosophy.

And sometime in the five steps it takes to cross the room does he finally come to the conclusion that enlightenment just isn't for him.

"Hey, angel," he says as he turns you around to face him. Your lips are parted in surprise and the glitter reflects fuchsia and gold in the low light.

He's acutely aware that the two of you are not alone, but he can't bring himself to look away. Something like a second epiphany dawns on him.

"Sorry it took a while," he murmurs as he leans down to meet your gaze.

"But better late than never, right?"

Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.

But right now, tonight, as you let him kiss you in front of all the people you know, he decides that inner peace is entirely overrated.

[xxfrankiesteinksxx]

small details in the dnpc video no one is mentioning

okay, look, i'm gonna admit it, i'm a game/film theory girly and a whore for lore, so i pick at details i shouldn't be picking at, so here's some things i see in the video that i don't see being mentioned in theories/analyses. also keep in mind my brain consists of a single cell encapsulated in aspic (i know what the actual deeper meaning is this is just a bit of fun for me)

the thing underneath the piano - the camera falls off the piano in one scene and something (i still cant figure out what exactly it might be) is visible, oddly clear-looking for something underneath a broken piano in shoddy lighting (actually looking at it again it might be a corpse, is it possibly phil's old body?)

dan telling phil not to film him drawing the sigils but phil still filming - you might be able to also throw in the part where phil screams "NO" when the camera's on him sitting in the corner; they don't seem to want things to be filmed but it feels like they're obligated to record everything to some extent

phil's very explicit control over dan - this is to the point where he even has to tell dan what and what isn't food, and takes away water privileges for some reason (btw this is your reminder to drink some water) and overall very demanding tone when instructing him

SOFT AND NEAT - there's a lot of reinforcement of this, its clearly a joke but i'm overanalytical and will blatantly ignore this. there's heavy hesitation with any sharp object around them (when dan has to cut his hand, kill phil, take out phil's heart, mentioning razor blades when using the shaving foam)

dan still primarily uses his left hand - people have mentioned how he's been "fixed" but him using his right hand seems to be performative since he pours most things, mixes with his left hand, and even primarily uses his left hand to spread the blood (plus he never sacrificed himself unlike phil who seems to have died in potato stamps and been resurrected with perfect vision) there's also old superstitions that being left-handed means you're somehow cursed by/connected to satan, speaking of which...

dan has a much better connection and the ability to communicate directly with Him - he seems to be a conduit, possibly being used by phil to properly perform anything (which also probably helped with his resurrection and eyesight improvement), he has uncontrollable actions from time to time

the sigils themselves - what do they all mean? what could they mean in a bigger, symbolic context? anyone that understands them pls explain to my aspic brain

the entire place fucking burns down after the ritual is complete and they're embraced by Him - it's clear at least to me that the shed is set on fire at the end of the video, cutting off further possible footage

dan doesn't put blood on phil's forehead during the ritual - might've just been a slipup during filming but we also dont see the blood dan put on his own forehead once he arrives and theyre all standing up in the pentagram

also just a couple fun facts:

the number on the case file when converted to corresponding letters of the alphabet spell out "satan"

what dan says in his reversed clip is just "thanks!", nothing is really said in the reversed clip of phil opening the shed door its juts kinda a random noise someone made

Aaaaand some misc nonsense crackpot theories/ideas/thoughts/brain vomit that my brain keeps me awake at night with (optional reading):

if the demon taking them at the end is actually baphomet and not just some generalized idea of satan, then "mother" could be another way to refer to "him" since baphomet is portrayed as having both female and male characteristics (bobs n pennies)

personally this is scarier/more unnerving than the actual blair witch project for some reason

my bathroom sink is the one sink you cant ship

i want a dapc for those dolls they hung everywhere

is cataloguing all of the ritual setup part of the craft channel's purpose?

what was the reason for summoning him? did they bring him to our plane of existence to just let him absorb these two brink-of-twinks and then use their gay power to torment the straights?

oh that rope is just his belt thing not rope tying dip and pip together

i think this is a good wrap-up idk what they could do in a part 5 to conclude things better

[otakween]

Cyborg 009 BGOOParts Delete (2020) - Volume 3

This manga is clearly meant to be binged and not read extremely slowly like I've been doing, so I'll try to read more at a time to do things properly. I'm still really frustrated that this is such a rehash of tired material. It might be acceptable if this was a reboot, but it's supposed to be more like a sequel/continuation so...

Ch. 15

The monologuing continues! Apollon and Joe talk about their respective squads, what makes them similar and different. Joe emphasizes the fact that the numbers cyborgs resent being made and plan to eradicate all of Black Ghost's cyborgs from the face of the Earth.

Helena asks Francoise to help her stop the fighting, but Francoise says that she can't because she doesn't want to abort the mission. Helena knocks Francoise out and turns into her dark, Artemis form, complete with creepy looking wings jutting out of her cyborg spine. They drew her all sensual this chapter which made me kinda uncomfortable lol.

007, 002, and 006 fight the lesser Mythos cyborgs in the background. They're not given much to do and it's hard to care about their part of the story.

Ch. 16

This chapter was straight up incomprehensible for me. Not only do they shout out some new attack name every two seconds, but half of them aren't even in Japanese or English. Also, a lot of the characters use old timey Japanese. At this point I'm just hear to admire the art.

Artemis' body is now the Dolphin apparently. What is this Arpeggio of Blue Steel??

At least 005 and 008 got some screentime this chapter. Every time 008 does stuff outside of the water I'm like "he's just a dude" lol. The Aquaman conundrum...

Ch. 17

Geronimo's battle wraps up with the Minotaur dude. DAMN that guy was annoying. I think he said "The Dark Labyrinth" about 50 million times. I was so pissed off having to read it over and over lol. Like...shut up already (thankfully, he did).

I really love how Pyunma has been drawn by this artist. He's come a long way. He acknowledged how limited he is outside of the water in this chapter, which I appreciated. Chang comes to his aid.

Ch. 18

Apollon monologues himself to death lol. The dialogue is sooo bad in this manga. They keep repeating the same phrases ad nauseum and it feels cheesy for them to be ranting so much during a battle. Just have them fight in silence and monologue after or something.

In addition to the dialogue being cringey, the action isn't really good either. The Mythos cyborgs keep dying and I keep thinking "wait...how'd they die??" It's not drawn clearly at all. Apollon gets shot up and then set on fire somehow, but they didn't draw Joe doing any of that so I'm like ???

Ch. 19

Okay, Hippo Man making 007 melt was pretty disturbing body horror, I gotta say. 004 then easily takes him out in a pretty boring battle. Hippo man went on and on about his "true name" and they made "kaba/baka" puns. Hey Cyborg 009, aren't comic relief characters supposed to be...funny?

Artemis is pissed at Joe for killing Apollon, but what did she think was gonna happen? This is such a blah retread.

Ch. 20

Lion dude turns into Heracles (which looks like a guy wearing a lion fur and wielding clubs). The cyborgs all gather for their final battle (aside from Artemis probably)

Who was the hairy dude in the beginning? I'm sure I'm just supposed to know who is his but I forgot lol. It's so hard to follow this manga when no one's documented it on the 009 wiki yet boohoo

Joe looked pretty badass showing up at the end there ngl (plus the shippers probably like to see him carrying 002 like that)

Ch. 21

Okay, this last bit was interesting (finally). They talked about how the numbers cyborgs have already defeated Black Ghost and are now just cleaning up their ooparts. Heracles disagrees and says that the Mythos cyborgs ARE Black Ghost because they're following through on their mission.

I had to remind myself what ooparts are. It stands for "Out of Place" parts. It's supposedly an American term, but I've never heard of it. It's related to cryptozoology and refers to anachronistic artifacts. I guess the Mythos cyborgs kinda fit that, but instead of being new stuff in olden times, they're old stuff in modern times? IDK. I wonder if OOParts is a well known concept in Japan or just this mangaka's hobby?

GDI Helen showing up at the last second to resurrect everyone is cheating >:/ now this arc will never end!

I like learning random stuff from manga. Heracles kept bringing up the Nemean lion so I looked it up and basically it's a lion whose fur was impervious to weapons. Never heard of that myth before! With the added context I appreciated Heracles' design more.

The mangaka's fanart sketches at the end were really charming, I liked their little self portrait too (they didn't need to draw 008's OG design though -cringe-)

[radwolf76]

So the whole opening credits sequence to this is a master class in visual storytelling/worldbuilding and I'm going to excerpt part of a decade old article to expand on just how much these few seconds say.

It's very, very important that we're getting their reaction shot first. We've just seen that the law is completely powerless to bring these guys down, but now, in the very next shot, there's something that terrifies them. Look at those dudes! They're recoiling and wide-eyed, the jutting jaw and confidence of their first appearance is gone. If they're not afraid of the cops, then what could inspire that kind of fear?

FACT #5: Whatever we're about to see, criminals are terrified of it.

It's almost as though criminals, despite seeming to have all the power in this city, are actually a superstitious, cowardly lot. So what are they so afraid of?

Ladies and gentlemen, 35 seconds into this opening sequence, we meet Batman. We don't know his name yet, but the way we meet him is brilliant. He drops out of the sky, so we have another visual metaphor added to what we've already seen: if the criminals are above the law, then Batman is above them. If cops are five, then crooks are six. If crooks are six, Batman is seven.

The way he drops out of the sky is genius, too: It's done so that he looks like a bat, with his cape flapping around him in this beautiful fluid motion as he lands. And if you didn't know anything about Batman, you'd assume that he was flying above them and dropped down -- if you didn't already know that he drove there in a car, which we know is his because it has the same lines and blue-black color scheme as his cape. See how it all comes together?

It's the close-up that gives us our next crucial piece, though. For one thing, we see that he's a person in a mask and not some demonic creature, so I feel justified in calling this guy "Batman" even though we're never going to learn his name in this sequence. But more importantly is that awesome moment where he narrows his eyes. He's not just there to stop these guys...

FACT #6: Batman hates criminals.

It's not just a matter of wanting to uphold the law -- there's an emotion at the core of what we're about to see, and it's not a happy one. So we have Batman, who does not like these guys, and the criminals who fear him.

Now, there's a lot in this scene that happens very quickly, and it's all very, very significant. First, the criminals pull out guns, so we know that for all the fantasy of police blimps and art deco hot rods, there is something that we can immediately recognize as a deadly weapon. More importantly, this action means that Batman has to react, and right now, we have no idea what he's going to do. Is he going to draw his own pistol and have a rooftop gunfight? By conventional logic, he'd certainly be justified; the bad guys are the ones who escalated the situation by drawing their pistols first.

But instead, Batman pulls out...

Well, I don't know what that is yet. Looks kind of like a boomerang but with weird spikes all over it. What I do know is that it's not a gun.

Quick sidenote before we move on: How awesome is that right hand? It's huge! It would ruin your day to get punched in the face with that thing.

Anyway, so this thing Batman just threw at these dudes is definitely not a gun. But maybe it's some other kind of weapon, like a throwing star. Maybe this Batman guy is like a ninja, who uses his own deadly weapons to take out criminals with extreme prejudice. Let's see!

Okay, so instead of taking out the men, Batman targets the guns, taking them away from the criminals. Huh. That's interesting, he must really not care for firearms. Otherwise he just would've used that crazy bat-boomerang thing (bat... arang?) to knock out the criminals. Maybe there's something specific about guns that's significant to this character.

Take all that together, what do we now know?

FACT #7: Guns exist and they are used by criminals.

FACT #8: Batman does not use guns. He doesn't seem to like them much either.

FACT #9: In lieu of a gun, Batman uses other weapons to fight crime.

The thing with the guns leads to something else that's really interesting, but it's not fully formed yet, so let's move on to what happens next:

And what happens next is that Batman cold wrecks one of those dudes. I love the reaction from the other thug, and the fact that this look of pure shock and terror is the most we ever see of him as a person. He has made some mistakes, and he realizes this now.

But the focus is on the other guy, the one who gets taken out. Batman puts him on the ground in one move while flipping through the air, and the crook does not get up again. So now we know something else:

FACT #10: Batman is awesome.

Seriously: The fluid movement, the quickness, the agility. If crime in Gotham is a step beyond crime as we understand it, then Batman is a step beyond people as we understand them. But not so far beyond that the other thug doesn't at least try to take a swing at him:

Again, even with just a silhouette and the shape of Batman's eyes, they're able to convey a contempt for the thug's punch in this brief moment. Just the posture as he watches the fist sail by -- it all reinforces the idea that Batman's a superior fighter, which continues into the next shot, where the thug tries three more times to hit Batman before Batman finally takes him out with exactly one punch.

But the fact remains that the thug tried to punch him, just like they tried to shoot him. Why? I mean, this guy just dropped out of the sky, disarmed two thugs and wrecked a dude in the span of ten seconds -- why doesn't the remaining criminal just start running? Because he has a chance. He at least thinks he does -- he fights instead of running because if he can land that punch, if he can get off a gunshot, it'll do something. We don't see bullets bouncing off Batman's chest and we don't see him take a punch to the face without reacting, we see him removing the guns from the equation and dodging fists. So now we know...

FACT #11: Batman is not invulnerable. He can be hurt.

BATMAN: The Animated Series (1992)

[satoruseme]

hiii can i have something from your nsfw prompt #100 with dom!tsukishima kei x f!reader please? with degradation and breeding kink if you're okay with it 🥺👉👈 thank you!

tsukishima + “you’re still horny? didn’t i fuck you hard enough last night?”

smut

1.1k words

↓

you were currently cuddled on the couch with your boyfriend, watching reruns of friends. you literally despised that show, but you put up with it just for tsukishima. 

you had your head on his chest, watching his clothed abdomen as it rose and fell. it seemed more entertaining than watching chandler wear a stupid fucking rabbit costume. 

you placed your hand over his abdomen, sprawling your fingers out as you felt it in motion with his breaths. he was paying no attention to you, you were known to just do random weird things so nothing ever took him by surprise anymore.

your boredom took over as you started replaying the memories of last night in your head. thinking about the way tsuki fucked you into the mattress with his hand wrapped around your throat, growling complete filth into your ear. the thoughts had you pressing your thighs together hard, adjusting your hips to relieve some of the pressure. 

you let your hand travel down his abodomen, lighly running your finger along the waistband of his sweats.

tsukishima didn’t let your actions go unnoticed as he suddenly paused the show, the room going silent.

“are you okay?” he asked lowly, knowing damn well what was going on and that he was about to tease the hell out of you for it. 

you sat up and looked at him, jutting out your bottom lip to pout. he thought you looked so cute, your hair a little messy from laying on him for so long, your face slightly red as you pouted for him. 

he just smirked at you and you threw one of your legs over his lap, straddling him and pressing your clothed center directly on his dick. you were wearing only one of his big t shirts and panties, an outfit that always drove him crazy.

he rested his hands lightly on your hips, slightly scoffing at your ridiculousness.

“you’re still horny? didn’t i fuck you hard enough last night?” he asked, moving his hands down to the tops of your thighs, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

you gasped at the pressure, it not helping the wet spot in your panties a single bit.

you hummed, pressing your mouth to his in an attempt to draw him in. he wasn’t going to give in that easy, though.

you let your hands snake under his shirt, letting your hands run up the soft skin of his chest. you grinded your hips into his again, smiling as you felt him growing hard below you.

he moved his hands back up to your waist, pulling you roughly into his body to where his mouth was right beside your ear. he nibbled your earlobe before speaking right into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

“my little cockslut, always horny no matter what. is my dick really that good, baby? you just can’t get enough of it?” he moved your hips against his with his hands as he spoke, earning whimpers from you.

“y-yes, tsuki, please” your chest was pressed tightly against his, making you want him even more.

“hmm, i dont know if you deserve it. do you not think i did a good enough job last night?” he teased. he was just trying to get you to talk, he loved hearing you whine and beg for him

“no, tsuki, you always fuck me so good. i always crave your cock, please” there it was. just what he wanted to hear.

he let out an accidental moan as you bit down on his shoulder. he always tried to hide how turned on he was, but truth be told, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. he loved everything about you, especially how you’d let him use you as his own personal sex doll.

“put it in.” he ordered, putting his hands behind his head as he watched you move your panties to the side and pull his cock out of his pants.

you lined yourself up over his cock, sitting down on it slowly. you groaned as you felt him stretch you out, touching every inch of the inside of you. he let out a low moan, moving his hands to grab tightly onto the cusion behind his head. 

he wanted to make you do this by yourself, since you wanted it so bad. he watched as you moved up and down on his cock, blood already rising to your face as you just completely fell apart on top of him. 

“look at you, such a nasty little girl. you look like such a whore bouncing on my cock like that” he said, using all of his willpower not to just grab your hips and fuck you silly himself.

you continued rolling your hips into his, moaning his name over and over as you felt his cock brush all the right spots. 

“t-tsuki, tsuki” you begged, losing your energy to continue riding him as your thighs became weak and began to shake.

“i hear you, baby” he understood what you needed asap, placing his large palms under the backs of your thighs, close to your ass and holding you up. he held you still as he jackhammered into you at a rapid pace, both of you letting out multiple moans and swears.

“want me to cum inside you? fill this pretty pussy up with my babies, hm?” the pleasure he felt running through his body as you rested your hands on his chest, digging your nails into it. 

“yes, please, i want you to fill me up so good please. fuck- im gonna cum”

his hips faultered when you told him you were going to cum, biting down on his shoulder again as you braced yourself. shortly after, you moaned out his name, drooling slightly on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath after your orgasm.

“fuck- fuck, y/n, fuck” he whimpered out the last fuck, so close to cumming. his body went almost limp as he dropped you back onto his lap, shooting his load deep inside of you.

“fuck, tsuki” you rested your forhead against his shoulder while he stayed inside of you. he rested his hands on your waist and pulled you close to his body again.

“so, you’re really gonna make me fuck you every day?” he scoffed.

“if thats what it takes” you smirked, beginning to climb off of his lap to go clean yourself up. you were surprised when his hands tightened on your waist, keeping you in your spot. 

“did i say you were done?” 

prompt list !!!

masterlist

[danidrabbles]

OCTOBER 1: KNIFE PLAY

Notes: Kicking Kinktober off with the following. Thank you as always @javier-pena for reading this over for me!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+!)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, romance???, sexy use of knives (...i hope), sliiiiightly dub-con but that’s Dave for ya, dirty talk, gags, 1 **** (dedicated to Kelli and Cris 😘) If I forgot anything important, please let me know!

The slam of the door startles you awake. Sitting up in bed, you listen to him rummage around downstairs, trace his path through the kitchen, the living room, and up the stairs. Usually, he’s more quiet, at least attempts to not wake you, but the fact that he doesn’t must mean that today is one of those days.

You know what Dave does; your darling husband by day, something else entirely by night.

It hadn’t started off like that, is what he told you once he came clean. He really had been a CIA operative before becoming what he is now. But this suited him better. He had tried to explain what that meant, careful not to scare you; that people paid good money to eliminate other people, that it sometimes got messy.

But you weren’t scared. You tried to explain that to him, and that mutual understanding, that you were the same on some level others might consider fucked up, it deepened your bond, your marriage, in a way you never expected.

The bedroom door sweeps open, his silhouette dark in the deep of the night, painted in shadows, but the little light in the room does allow you to take note of the blood that has dried on his face. It makes you inhale deeply, fisting the duvet under your hands and waiting for him to make the first move.

It’s one of those days, after all.

Dave reaches you in two big steps, his boots heavy against the protesting wooden floor, but waits at the end of the bed, gnawing at his bottom lip and balling his fists like he has to physically hold himself back.

“It’s okay,” you say, and as soon as you do, he’s on you. Sheets discarded, he crawls over you, pushing you back against the mattress. His eyes roam your face, and he seems to be looking for more than that, so you give him more affirmations. “You can take what you need.”

Wordlessly, he straddles you, a thigh on either side of your body, and you’re trapped below the weight of him, your arms pinned to your side, the fabric of your nightgown stretched across your frame. There’s a barely-there roll of his hips, and he’s unmistakably hard as he seeks out the friction against you. He reaches behind himself, then produces his knife from his back pocket. With a click, the blade reveals itself, glinting like a promise and fuck, it shouldn’t make a burst of arousal flare up inside of you, but it does.

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dave asks as he turns the knife over in his hand once, twice, before giving you an expectant look.

“Yes,” you answer, obedient, eager, honest—because you would.

The cold blade—phosphated carbon steel, as he once explained to you—presses against the skin at your collarbone, the tip just hitting the side of your neck, and you swear you can feel your pulse racing against the sharp steel.

You know exactly what he can do with it, what he has done with it, and yet you trust him, literally with your life.

“You won’t hurt me, not unless you know I want it.”

You don’t miss the way he grins, or grinds down against you, or how he inspects your body under his. In a flash, he hooks the knife under one of the straps of your nightgown and pulls, the fabric parting easily around the top of the blade.

An eager hand pulls at the flap of fabric until he can fill his hand with the soft, plump flesh of your breast. With a gasp, you arch up against him, crying out when he pinches your nipple and twists.

You expect him to go for the other strap, expose your tits to him and play with them until you’re begging him for more, but instead, he fists the torn fabric and pulls it away from your body, bringing the knife up to begin cutting a slit right down the middle. With each rip-rip-rip of fabric, the throb between your legs gets more intense, and an actual moan escapes your lips when he fists the last bit of it and pulls, tearing the garment in half and pushing it to the sides of your body.

His finger dips under the waistband of your underwear, grazing just where the soft curls on your mound begin. He toys with it, pulling it from your body and letting the elastic snap against your skin, before hooking his finger back under it.

“Want me to tear this off, too?” he asks, focusing not on your face, but on the task at hand.

You take a deep breath. “Use the knife.”

That earns you his attention, something akin to pride flashing across his face before he looks back down. In one rapid move, the blade slides over your hip bone and under the fabric of your underwear. With a tug, it tears, the elastic snapping and the material folding back, exposing you to his hungry eyes.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you moan as he repeats the action on the other side, again when he rips the fabric from between your legs.

“Open up,” he orders.

You try to move your legs, open them for him, but with his thighs still on either side of yours, it’s impossible. Just as you’re about to protest, he leans over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Open. Your mouth.”

His fingers find your face, and the pinch to your cheeks borders on painful, making you open your mouth with a wet gasp.

Even in the dark, you can see him smile, before he tilts your head back just a tick and spits. His smile only grows when you welcome it with a moan, eyes fluttering and body surging under him before you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing your open mouth before stuffing your ruined panties inside of it.

The blade is back at your throat, and the pressure of it against your voice box abruptly cuts off your answering whine. With a rough exhale Dave sits back and begins dragging the dull side of it down your body. Still, you find yourself holding your breath, your chest jutting out with the effort. Chin to your chest, you watch as he circles your nipple, once, twice, until it begins standing to attention, hardening at the cold, gentle touch. He brings it back to the centre of your chest and slides it over to your other breast, flicking at your nipple. Satisfied with how your body quivers under his, he slides the blade further down your body, following the bump of your ribcage to your belly button and down.

He shuffles back, and despite the fact that his body is no longer keeping your arms incapacitated, you keep them pressed against your torso while he crawls between your legs. With his free hand, he pulls one over each of his thighs, spreading you open for him to look at, to take you.

The knife kisses the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he keeps teasing you while he opens his trousers and takes his cock out. His eyes fix themselves on your cunt, no doubt glistening with want, even in the dim light of the night.

“You get so fucking wet for this shit, it’s depraved, sweetheart,” he grits out, and despite the fact he says it like he’s scolding you, you know he loves it. Dave is a dark man in more ways than one, and he loves that you’re like this. Like him. For him. With him.

He proves you right when he begins stroking himself, a ragged sigh sailing past his lips as he throws his head back, exposing the thick, strained tendons in his neck. He allows himself a couple seconds of relief, before he stops himself with a long exhale, a hand trailing up your thigh to touch you where you’re more than ready for him.

He fills you with two thick fingers, curling and stroking at your slippery walls, and it’s so much at once, making you cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“This sweet pussy is going to feel so perfect around my cock,” he says, eyes only leaving yours when he slowly pulls his fingers free, groaning softly at the way your body pulls at him, working to keep him inside. “Would you like that?”

You nod in the dark, unable to help yourself from bucking your hips to chase his touch. The hand that still holds the knife is quick to push you down, the blade glinting dangerously close to your hip bone.

“Want me to put it in, baby? Want me to put it all in? Push all the way inside until you can’t think about anything else but how deep you can feel me inside you?” He slides himself over your mound, pushing until the head of his cock can smear wetly under your belly button, showing off just what that would mean.

There’s so much you wish you could tell him right now. That yes, you want it. That you want him so badly to just take what he wants from you, here, like this, between the shreds of your clothes where you’re spread for the taking. That this ‘depraved shit’ does make you wet, it does when it’s him, when he uses you, when he makes it hurt.

But your affirmation is suppressed against the fabric in your mouth, nothing but incoherent, muffled babbles filling the bedroom.

And yet, it’s like he can tell exactly what you’d been thinking, because the knife hits the floor with a clatter, and if he gave you any time, you might be able to analyse the sudden surge of emotion that flows through you at the idea.

But he doesn’t give you that time. The sound of the blade startles you almost as much as the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance, as the slide of him inside, as the sharp thrust that makes his thighs slap against the back of yours. He pushes you up the mattress with the force of it, and your hand flies up to press a palm against the headboard to keep your head from knocking against it.

“Fucking Christ,” he sighs, stilling for a second to revel in the tight squeeze of your pussy before he draws back and spears himself through your slick walls - again, again, again.

“I’m gonna make this pussy come,” he promises, voice strained. “I’m gonna make it flood my cock and then I’m gonna cover you in my come,” he adds, a hand dragging over your torso, thumb and pinkie catching on your hardened nipples before he settles his hand on your hip to pull you down against him.

The head of his cock knocks against the button of your womb with each thrust, and at your silenced keens, he falls down to a forearm, eyes boring into yours as he continues to fuck you. “I’ve got you, baby,” he assures.

Your hand curls around his bicep, fingernails digging into the fabric of his long-sleeved top. It’s wet, warm, no doubt evidence of his successful mission, and that thought, your body’s response to it, eases the glide of him inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs, to draw maddening circles around your slippery, puffy clit, and with the way he’s been working you up, you already know it will take no time at all. “You know that, right?”

You nod with a muffled groan, focusing on the way he stretches you open and plays with your clit, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes with how hard you squeeze them shut as it builds—as it all builds.

You know.

--

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you all tomorrow for October 2: Stripping. Anyone who guesses correctly which character I’ve written for will get a sneak peek at the fic in their DMs😌

Taglist

@javier-pena, @highsviolets, @frannyzooey, @silksaddle, @artsymaddie, @doin-stuff, @jettia, @stevie754, @amneris21, @readsalot73, @mswarriorbabe80, @queen-sands, @javierpinme, @flyovertheandesman, @pazizz, @honestly-shite, @pedrostories​

Sign up HERE. (If you want to be removed, shoot me a message!)

[hawksugarbaby]

Deku x reader- don't forget

Smut + Fluff. Porn with plot

This is part of the Deku’s birthday collab by @rat-zuki I'm Very excited to post my first tumblr exclusive chapter! Happy birthday to our not so sweet sinnamon roll!

Chapter includes: begging, slight daddy, praise, orgasm denial, fingering, a lil mirror shit, swearing, unprotected sex.

You slammed the door of the house and kicked your shoe’s off, shoving them to the side of the coat rack with your foot while you shucked off your jacket and threw it over the rack, not even bothering to hang it on a hook. The living room was a mess, magazines and paper strewn over the coffee table and chewed pencils were stuck in the crevices of the couch. The landline was stretched from the wall to the arm of the couch and tangled in its own cord, somehow a pair of tights (you’d intended to put on) had weaved itself into the knot and the sight just made you angrier. 

As quickly as you’d moved away from the door it swung open again and your freckled boyfriend walked in hurriedly taking his shoes off and blabbering while he attempted to fix your coat.

“Bakugo is going to keep him tonight and drop him off in the morning. If you forget to pick my son up from school again and there will be consequences” your words are firm and send the message across instantly. 

“Okay honey.” he muttered into your neck, making you shiver but you were so angry it didn’t feel right to give him any reaction. He was the one who made you angry in the first place. “Well if bakugo has the little one tonight…” he trailed off and let you fill in the blanks yourself. 

You scoffed and slapped his hand off of you pulling out of his embrace and turned to stare him dead in the eye. You open your mouth to yell again but your lips are swiftly caught between his and his large hands slide up the back of your neck tangling in your hair and his other arm wraps around your hips pulling you forward forcing you to be chest to chest with barely enough room to breathe. He pulls his lips off of you and you gulp struggling to find the resolve you had mere minutes ago but the blinding anger was still apparent in the front of your mind. 

You push him back and head for the door only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back towards him, turning toward him while you move leaving minimal space between you. His smile has faded. “Don’t push me” he warns and you tut shoving him away again but his feet are roots in the ground and he comes back to the center like a punching bag. He hoisted you up over his shoulder and dropped you on the bed facing the polished mirror and climbed up behind you sitting you in his lap. 

“Please apologise honey” he hummed into your neck, his thick calloused fingers drumming on your collarbone, thumb gracing your neck and you swallowed thickly making the digit bob on your throat. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at his staring reflection waiting for an answer he wasn’t going to get so easily and he sighed disappointedly. “Do I need to fuck one out of you princess” he asked nibbling on your earlobe and you roll your neck to the side letting your eye’s flutter closed for a second. 

“Fuck off I’m not apologising for anything” you grumble with a waver that didn’t go unnoticed by either of you and you curse yourself for letting it slip out. You squirm in his lap feeling his cock harden behind you. The thin fabric between your legs was growing dark with your own slick and your core throbbed with each of deku’s hot breaths fanning your cheek as his fingers inched closer to your neck. 

“Don’t talk to me like that” he huffed and his thick fingers curled around your neck and you choked on a gasp as they squeezed ever so slightly on the sides of your neck. His other hand trailed up the inside of your thigh and ruffled with the end of your skirt teasing you as his knuckle’s grazed your pussy and you whined in the back of your throat leaning back into him and shifting in his lap. “You're being such a good girl, you could have all you want if you just said sorry” he mumbled and you really did consider it for a minute. Your cherry face challenges you in the mirror, daring you not to. 

“No.” 

He rolls his eyes and slips up your skirt the pads of his fingers rubbing on the damp spot on your underwear drawing a hum from your chest and you close your eyes swimming in the ocean of sensations bubbling in your veins and a plea climbs up your throat only for the green haired male to laugh and retract his fingers. 

Your eye’s snap back open and you glare at your boyfriend looming over you and lifting you off of his lap. “No please Zuku I need it” you whimper and watch his relaxed figure in the mirror laughing away to himself. You knew what he wanted but you were too stubborn to give him his satisfaction, it was a family trait it appeared as your brother was just as arrogant and stubborn. 

“Then you have to apologize,” he smiled innocently like his cock wasn’t strained against the fabric of his jeans and like you weren’t sitting like a pretty whore begging him to rearrange your organs. Kneeling with your back turned to him and your knee’s spread apart slightly, hands resting in the space between your legs and your puppy eye’s and glistening bottom lip jut out to beg like a hungry dog. 

He couldn’t see you himself but he could see it all in the mirror in front of you mounted on the wall and he bit his lip. He didn’t manage to notice your hands slip under your skirt behind you and slide your underwear off of you, landing in a small pile on the floor. You flip up your skirt and present your bare cunt glistening with your slick urging a soft groan from his throat. Your fingers travel up your thigh dipping between your folds and your thumb flicking over the sensitive button making you hum in blissful pleasure. Your small fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, digits gleaming with juices. 

You pulled them out and sucked on your wet fingers, tasting yourself while watching your boyfriend out of your peripherals, hand down his jeans and trying to discreetly pump his huge cock without you noticing.  You chuckle and swirl your tongue around the fingers deciding your next plan of action. 

You pulled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, the skirt being the only piece of clothing left and you leaned forward putting yourself on your hands and knees. “Come on. Don’t you want this... Daddy.” a growl comes from behind you and you’re pulled back so that you’re stretched, arms out in front of you and back arched up so that your cunt is directly in front of deku’s face. You wiggled your hips with a giggle when a sharp strike landed on your ass and you yelped, followed by a soft moan. 

He gripped your hips with one hand denting the flesh around his finger tips while his other stroked along your folds gently dipping his fingers in and out every time you made a noise just to pull back out and leave you unsatisfied. You wriggled trying to get out of his grasp and just pleasure yourself if that’s what it took but his hand was as tight as a vice and you worried that becoming an escape artist wouldn’t be worth the pain you’d end up in either from tumbling off the bed or his determination to keep a hold of you. 

Deku swiftly moved his thumb over your clit, circling the button slowly while stuffing 2 fingers in your hole, curling them quickly in a ‘come hither’ motion. The pads of his fingers grazed the spongy spot inside of you making you jolt with every curl and whine needily into the mattress as your stomach pooled with heat. “Gonna cum on my fingers baby?” his thumb sped up and you gasped, whipping your head up. Your chest began to heave and you nodded, biting on your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

your stomach tightened and your walls began to flutter around deku’s fingers signaling your oncoming release. He slowed his thumb and pulled his digits out of you leaning next to your ear and whispering, “tough shit.” 

Your eyes snapped open and you looked around wildly as if searching for your missing orgasm. “W-what”?” Your denied release fizzled away in your stomach and you pulled your knees under you so you were kneeling and shuffle around to face him. “Baby please make me cum I need it!” you whimpered, leaning your head against his hard chest, your own fingers beginning to doddle beneath your skirt. 

Your teasing was enough to encourage him again and he pushed you down gently, laying you on your back and spreading your legs, gripping the meat of your thigh as his lips caught yours in an intense kiss and you hurriedly pulled down his trousers and boxers in tow. 

His thick cock sprung out of his boxers standing to attention. Your small hand wrapped around the shaft and moved up and down slowly, your thumb swiped over the slit leaking pre-cum and he grunted bucking his hips in your hand. You come away from his length and draw your hand over his toned stomach tracing each muscle with a long fingernail that tickled.

“Patience daddy” a small giggle escapes your lips and you're pinned to the bed quickly, both wrists clasped together in one of Izuku’s dry, calloused hands and held above your head while Izuku rubs the head of his cock over your folds.

“You want it?” he asks inserting the tip and pulling out again drawing a moan out with it and jerk your hips up toward him. “Use your words honey I can’t give it to you if I don’t hear a yes” he hums next to your ear. 

Your wrists writhe in his hand and you nod “Yes! Please baby please I want you to fill me with your cum” the words echo off the wall and go straight to his cock, jumping in his hand. He pushed in quickly and you both moaned in unison, your head falling back into the pillow and deku buried his head in the crook of your neck kissing along your shoulders and up your jaw as his hips pummeled into you at inhumane speed. “Ah~ fuck deku your gonna rip me apart” your words are broken up by tumultuous moans that couldn’t be held back no matter how hard you bit your tongue. 

The burn of Deku's thick cock stretching you out again was blissful and the artful kisses he left behind were euphoric, seeping into your skin and lighting your veins on fire with pleasure filling them with napalm. “You feel so good honey. So warm and soft I could stay here all day. Cock buried in your perfect little pussy it’s like you were made to be my little sleeve” his words came out in a growl and you felt your stomach flip and tighten. His relentless thrusting left you hot like your fever pitch had turned into a real fever and you could feel your wrists redden and bruise as he grabbed them tighter with his oncoming release. 

“My hands deku” you chuckled and he let out a small gasp of panic letting go and used his hands to hold himself up, the right hand cupping your face and stroking your cheek like you were the most precious thing in the world to him despite his length ruthlessly tearing into you. 

“Sorry honey”

You shook your head afraid that if you spoke all that would come out would be high pitched squeals and broken moans getting caught in your throat. “Deku ‘m gonna cum fuck ahh.” you rocked your hips against his but he slowed his thrusting and you whimpered gazing at him with glassy eyes. 

“You can’t cum until you’ve apologised” he stated flicking your clit with his unoccupied hand and you squeaked pushing away from him with your feet.

“Apologise? Apologise for what!” you shout hitting his hard chest with an exhausted slap and his eyelids dropped to adorn a primal gaze watching you like pray. 

“Pushing me. And hitting me just now.” you crossed your arms and turned away making it clear you werent apologising. “Fine I guess i’ll just finish myself then” he pulled his cock out with a sigh leaving you feeling empty and you grabbed his large bicep staring at him desperately. 

“Fine! I’m sorry I'm sorry just please baby I need to cum so bad” you beg with misty eyes and he thrusts back in sharply eliciting a loud moan and a groan from his chest. “Fuck yes!” he thrusts into you forcefully the tip kissing your cervix and with every pull out he grazes the sweet spot inside your walls. His thumb circled your clit and he could feel your walls clamp around him making it slightly harder to move. 

“What a good girl. Gonna cum for me?” he praises and you nod with a whine and your hands dig into his back as your stomach tightened. 

And tightened 

And tightened

Until it snapped and you wailed into the air. Your back arched and head dropped into the pillow, your dark orbs rolled back into your head and deku could see the sweat collect on your brow as your vision clouded with white and your body went red hot. 

He kissed your forehead and kept thrusting into your exhaustion riddled body. “Well done honey” he smiled and thrusted a few more times before he quickly came painting your walls white and filling your womb with his thick hot cum. He must have been pent up as he kept cumming as he pulled out, his seed dripping out of your whole, sliding down your ass cheeks and the rest was spent on your stomach. 

“You did so well” he hummed quickly standing to grab a warm cloth from the master bathroom and wipe you down but the sight of his cum dripping out of you was almost enough to get him going again. He picked you up and laid you on the chaise beside the window while he fixed the bedsheets and duvet. Re-fluffing the pillows and propping them up the way you liked them.

You whined and stretched out for him making grabby hands at him “come cuddle me” you whisper and he smiles, nodding while he put you back on the bed under the warm blankets and climbed in beside you pulling your lassulus body into his and turning off the lamp. 

“I love you.” he mumbled into the top of your head and you smirked lightly. 

“I love you too”

[amysteriousmessenger]

The rfa + saeran sending nudes to mc

I got you anon!! I hope these are okay! <3 

RFA (+ Saeran and V) sending Reader nudes Headcanons (NSFW)

Yoosung Kim sending Reader nudes Headcanons

Yoosung has literally never taken a nude picture in his life, he gets embarrassed even at the thought of it. It’s not something he would really be into usually, but if you get him really in the mood and send him a couple of pictures first to make him feel more comfortable he might consider sending one or two.

He isn’t really sure what it is you want to see, and he definitely doesn’t feel like he can ask Zen or Seven what he’s supposed to do because they would literally never live it down. He’d also never survive the shame of asking in the first place. 

Yoosung is a little bit self-conscious of his body and doesn’t think particularly highly of himself, so the most you would probably get from him is a picture of his semi-erection bulge through his trousers, maybe with his hand slipping underneath. 

He’s not one for taking pictures of himself but he’s more than happy to see some of you, if you’re willing to send them. He can’t believe how lucky he is that he’s the one you chose to share these photographs with.

Zen/Hyun Ryu sending Reader nudes Headcanons

  Zen? The chance to share another selfie? He’s already on board. It always sits in the back of his mind that he worries the server will get hacked and that the pictures will leak and it could damage his career, but he has faith in Seven’s protection.

He doesn’t even need a reason to take them, he already has a bunch stored. He tries to keep them tasteful, so there’s never really any full cock action, it’ll be concealed with a towel or a well placed shampoo bottle. He has to make sure the lighting hits his body just right to show you all of his best muscles. He has a full length mirror in his bathroom, and by God, he’s going to make use of it. Most of his nudes are post-shower pictures because he thinks he looks particularly good when dripping wet. Well, he is dripping with good looks after all.

He’s also definitely one to get turned on by his own pictures, and his own moans too if you’re having phone sex together. He definitely prefers sending them whilst talking over the phone because he wants to hear your reaction to them and to hear you praising him.

If you wanted a fresh TM picture, you’d be most likely to get one of Zen pulling his grey sweatpants slightly down to reveal his abs, V-line and the top of his pubic hair. He’d also lift his t-shirt up so you could see his abs in the shadows. The lighting would be dark and he would just be lying in bed but*chef’s kiss* it’s still OnlyFans worthy. 

Jaehee Kang sending Reader nudes Headcanons

Jaehee has also never really been one for taking and sending pictures of herself. It makes her rather anxious and she doesn’t really think there’s anything special enough about her body to justify taking a picture of it. Like Zen, she would worry about the pictures somehow getting leaked and damaging her career, but reassures herself that there’s essentially zero chances of that happening and if they did, Seven would make sure that all evidence was destroyed. 

She’s always pleasantly surprised and extremely flustered to receive images from you, but she might need a little coaxing and reassurance in order to send one back.

She’d start simple, with nice pictures of her thighs, maybe her stomach with a little bit of her bra revealed whilst she worked up the confidence to send anything else. 

Even when she is more comfortable, Jaehee doesn’t really take her underwear off for these pictures. So, the most explicit you would get from her is her ass reflected in a mirror in some lingerie that she bought for the two of you to enjoy on her. 

Jumin Han sending Reader nudes Headcanons

As much as Jumin enjoys receiving explicit images from you, telling how much you want and need him, he rarely sends one back. He much prefers to call and hear your voice and tease you saying that you’d have to wait for him to come home before you can have him, and that you deserve a punishment for pulling something like this when he’s at work, especially when you know he has a meeting he’s supposed to be concentrating on right now.

On the occasion that you do get a picture back, it’s a blurry. Barely even visible. You wouldn’t even know it was a concealed erection otherwise. The majority of Jumin’s lewd pictures are of his bulge through his suit trousers, hidden under his desk. 

Whilst he would fuck you in his office, he’s not one for masturbating at work so he’d sooner send you a picture of his clothed erection and tell you what you have to look forward to the second he steps into the penthouse.

Besides, him ignoring his erection now is only going to make it feel even better later when he finally gets his hands on you.

Saeyoung Choi sending Reader nudes Headcanons 

Every time Seven gets a picture from you, he mutters a prayer and kisses his cross, asking forgiveness for the sins he is about to commit. 

Seven’s nudes still have Honey Butter chip crumbs on his trouser leg. Tasteful. Classy. 

He worries about one of the hackers chasing him somehow coming across yours and his nudes, so whilst he Cannot bear to part with your wonderful, blessed, gorgeous images, he’ll keep them on an encrypted floppy disk that only he knows how to gain access to. He is the only one that will ever get to see such photos of you.

He’ll send images similar to Zen, with his V line and pubic hair visible and his hand disappearing beneath his trousers, but the outline of his dick very much visible. 

He’s also very much someone that would want to call you so he could hear you as he was touching himself. Bonus points if you’re putting on a show for him on one of the cameras whilst you’re on the phone with him, because then he gets live action visuals. 

Sometimes he’ll wear his maid outfit and send you pictures of his ass, jut to keep it fresh and remind you that he does have a rather nice ass, if he does say so himself. 

When he’s jerking himself off, he’ll bite onto the hem of his t-shirt so he doesn’t cum on it and revealing his stomach and chest in the process, but it is Quite a few to see him finish on his abdomen, which he would probably send you a photo of before cleaning it up. 

Saeran Choi sending Reader nudes Headcanons (Unknown)

[The only alters I can see actually sending nudes would be Unknown and Suit Saeran, so I’m going to write this with Unknown in mind!]

Out of Saeran’s alters, Unknown is the flirtiest and probably the one who would actually send a nude first once it was established both parties were interested. He’d take the picture from below whilst he was lounging on a chair, so the phone has the upward angle and got to include all the Best TM aspects that he wanted in the picture. 

Unknown would bite at his shirt to reveal his abdomen and to show a devilish flash of a grin. The phone is set to an angel that it’s exactly what someone would see if they were on their knees in front of him, which was entirely intentional on his part.

The photo would cut off above the smile, and his free hand would be resting just next to his bulge, most definitely drawing attention to it. His legs are slightly spread and his tattoo is even more visible than usual.

It wouldn’t be a full nude, but definitely the outline of his cock pushing through the leather trousers and the caption, ‘I bet you want to see more, right?.’

If you sent him a picture back, don’t expect a lot of praise because the only thing you’re going to get back is a ‘heh, not bad’. That means he really liked it.

V/Jihyun Kim sending Reader nudes Headcanons 

V rarely sends his own nudes, but you know what he Would send? Your nudes. He would absolutely send you photographs of lewd polaroids that he had taken over the course of your relationship. To him, that was better than any pornography available and it was the only material that he had any interest in it.

He doesn’t really think he’s anything special or worth taking pictures of, but you on the other hand, he could take a picture of you every minute of every day and it would never be enough.

The closest you would get to a nude from V would be his silhouette looming over the bed that was covered in these pictures, the shadow of his hand over his crotch. 

It would have been creepy if anyone else was to do it, but V was your partner and you thought it was rather hot that he prized and worshipped  your images in such a way. He adored the way the expressions you made, the emotion, the purity and how good you were making one another feel in those photographs. 

[lizbotw]

“i really love you sometimes.”

“only sometimes?” the way gojou is looking at you like he knows something you don’t makes your hand wobble a bit and your blood runs cold. fuck.

the dark wing you were attempting to draw suddenly has an unplanned spike jutting out of it at an odd angle and you’re pretty sure the eyeliner bottle you keep tapping your nails against is almost empty (it’s feeling a little bit lighter than it did a few minutes ago, you swear).

maybe if you just add a little bit extra to the other side to even it out—no, that’s also how you got stuck in a cycle of drawing and blotting and drawing and using up your precious supply of your favorite brand for the last ten minutes. you really feel like your boyfriend does not deserve all this.

“only sometimes,” you confirm. the balled up tissue you’d let fall into your lap earlier after the other failed attempts comes in handy as you very disgruntledly set about blotting out the stain on your legacy; the action is a little too familiar for your liking.

satoru doesn’t ask what he can do to improve and make you love him all the time but you really wished he would—you have a very long list of complaints and about half of them relate to how he keeps fucking shifting just when you’re about to get the wing as sharp as you want.

oh, the wonders you could work if this idiot just stopped being... him.

you’re about to set back trying to craft your masterpiece and having an inner monologue about how you never want to do anyone else’s eyeliner ever again when gojou’s warm hand around your wrist stops you, the heat relaxing your built up tension—why is it warm? man, you really hate him.

“give me the mirror.”

he means the handheld mirror laid out on the vanity next to you that’s meant to be used after you’re done—and you are undoubtedly far from that point. “no.”

“pretty please, babe?”

you do not like the bat of his eyelashes that he thinks will win you over. good thing you have a strong resolve. you decide to tell him no again. “okay. here you go.” you hand him the mirror anyway. dammit.

satoru takes his sweet time admiring his reflection after taking the object from you with a stupidly blinding smile, shifting you around a little where you’re straddling his lap (listen, you only had one vanity chair and you had to make do; it was his idea to sit like this anyway).

“this is…”—oh no, here it comes. he’s going to realize you were lying about being a famous makeup artist in your past life. why oh why did you suggest this?—“...sharp.”

you have half the mind to blink. “excuse me?”

gojou is already leaning in to peck your lips, smiling that same smile, and you’re too confused by his words to move away, instead letting the hand not still holding the eyeliner container tangle in his white hair. it’s soft of course (both his lips and his hair)... ugh.

“come on—” he kisses you again, a hand cradling around your back to pull you closer against his chest and your own hands find their way to his shoulders as you watch him, confused. “—you said you wanted to give me a ‘sharp wing,’ didn’t you?” (you roll your eyes at him quoting you.) “look a little more proud of yourself, babe—i love it.���

you finally sit back to take in his face—the pull of his cheeks when he gives you that sly grin, the wispy hair strands that drape over his forehead, and the way the bold black of the eyeliner contrasts with his blue eyes just like you thought it would (that had been the whole reason you even did this—a little experiment if you will). “it looks good on you,” you say simply, as though a realization just hit you (which it did).

you really do love him (still only sometimes though).

it’s always a bad sign when satoru doesn’t reply with a teasing comment to any compliment you give him. you realize that this time it’s because he’s eyeing the half-closed eyeliner tube you still hold. “can i do yours next?”

okay, you’re definitely saying no to that. “okay.” dammit.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Hallow-Peen {One-Shot}***

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, NSFW, Exhibitionism, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Halloween fun with Chris at a haunted house.

Note: Don’t judge me with the title. I was drawing a blank, and by the end, I had a better one, but I said what the hell let’s keep it. LOL. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Halloween!! 

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊  ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

  Halloween in Massachusetts means one thing, no matter which part. Scary fun. Salem may be the place of the witch trials that took place, but the entire state of Massachusetts goes crazy for Halloween. Usually, every year Chris being the adorable man-child he is, he would beg to go trick or treating. He’d wear the most basic costume in the world, usually a different animal onesie, just to get as much candy as possible. Candy was his sole objective--well, candy, dressing Dodger up in a costume and seeing all the kids' costumes.

 This year because of the pandemic, things are a little different. He decides that the only way he’ll be okay giving up the option for trick or treating is if you do something Halloween related. That was when he thought up going to a haunted house. You weren’t feeling like it because mother nature had the nerve to fuck everyone over and made it snow. Who wanted to get dressed in a costume that was probably most likely skimpy to freeze because she had the audacity to say, here humans take this? You were in a shitty mood, especially seeing that twenty-twenty was already at peak fuckry levels.

“Come on; you’ll be inside. It won’t be that bad,” Chris continued trying to convince you.

 Even though you were doing your hair and makeup getting ready to go, he could tell you really weren’t feeling it. You looked up from your seated position in front of the bathroom mirror to see Chris come around the corner with a camera on.

 “What are you doing, Chris?”

 “Making memories, sweetheart.”

 You rolled your eyes and went back to applying your mascara. You only felt like this twice a month. You knew this week’s irritability was only because of your body conspiring with mother nature and Chris to put a baby in you.

 Chris came closer and placed a sweet kiss on your exposed shoulder then trailed it up to your neck where he took his time. Thanks to your traitorous body, you moaned.

 “Don’t be mad. How about I put you in a good mood?”

 Chris’s free hand wrapped around your stomach to rest possessively just below your belly button. The warmth from his hand felt so comforting and soothing, but it also felt more than that. When he sunk his fingertips into your flesh, you felt the carnal undertones.

 “And just how do you plan on putting me in a good mood?”

 As a response, Chris nibbled your earlobe and pulled you back against his body. The press of his hard frame against your back. Your body working against you hummed, making you moan again.

 “I think you know just how I’ll put you in a good mood,” Chris whispered as his hand made it to the knot of your towel. With little to no manipulation, he had your towel falling to the floor. With lips pressed to your ear, he took a sharp inhale and moaned.

 “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

 From the mirror, you watched his eyes ravage your body. His eyes rested at your breasts for several long moments before they traveled down your body, only to stop again once he reached where your thighs met. The look on his face was that mischievous, aroused look. He slithered his hand up your sternum to cup one of your breasts before squeezing it. You both moaned in unison.

 “Mm, I’m sorry, baby. I forgot,” Chris cooed as he gently tweaked one of your nipples between his fingers. A soft mewl fell from your lips.

 That was when you remembered he was recording.

 “Is there a reason why you’re recording me?”

 A grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s spread across his face before he licked his lips to bite his bottom lip.

 “Memories.”

 “You’re such a perv. How many of these memories do you have, sir?”

 Chris shrugged nonchalantly as he peered off to the side as if he didn’t know an exact number.  

 “Two, Six, twelve somewhere in that ballpark,” he answered as he turned you and slid you back onto the sink. After a few seconds, he’d handed you the camera.

 “What am I supposed to do with this?”

 Chris again shrugged before he kissed your neck, then your shoulder. He trailed his lips down your body until your pert nipple was in his mouth. You softly sighed out and slumped back, resting against the mirror. Chris slowly swirled his tongue around your skin before he quickly flicked his tongue against your bud. Another moan escaped you. Moving your hand so he was in focus of the camera, you watched him through the display. Chris peeped up to you then quirked his brow before he gave you a small bite. The action sent your back arching, and you jutting out your breast to him like offerings on a platter.

 When he pulled back, he had your nipple between his lips. When it slipped from his mouth, the jerk and sudden cool air had you groaning. Chris kissed a path across your stomach and dropped to his knees before you. Following him with the camera, you pushed it out of your mind that he knew you were practically powerless to say no. He knew that this week he could have you whenever however he wanted. The look he gave you before he fastened his lips to your sex said he knew it full and well. Jackass, you thought.

 It was a brief thought because the sensation of his lips on your clit stifled any other possible thought than fuck yes. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed while your hand lowered, completely forgetting the camera within your grip.

 “Sweetheart,” Chris murmured. The coxing tone in his voice had you looking at him again.

 “At me.”

 The way he said it was so sexy. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you brought him back into focus on the camera screen again. that was when he kissed your clit in the slowest, most exaggerated way.

 “Shit,” you rushed out. Chris softly smiled before he repeated the action two more times.

 It was the that linguistically skillful tongue came into play. He licked, he flicked, he swirled, and he prodded. It was clear he wanted to tease you, make you so on edge that you would lose it. He was close to his goal. Keeping the camera on him, you got lost in the pleasure he was giving you. When you felt him dip his tongue into your heat, you brought your legs up to rest on the edge of the sink.

 “Mmm, you taste better than candy, baby,” Chris said against your sex.

 “So we can stay in tonight cause your trick or treat feast is right here.”

 Glancing at you through the lens, he smirked then sucked your clit into his mouth again. This time he wasn’t so gentle. The pressure quickly built-in your gut, and within seconds, you were coming. Chris wouldn’t let you clamp his face between your legs. He had his hands pressing your thighs back to keep you where he wanted. When he didn’t release you once you’d finished, you felt another creep up on you, and that one wiped you out.

 When Chris pulled back, his lips and beard were glistening, making you smirk. You watched him lick his lips clean, not wasting one drop, and you bit your bottom lip again.

 “You’re the devil,” you joked, making him laugh out loud. The sound bounced off the bathroom walls and had your belly quivering.

 Before he got up, he kissed your clit once more, making you arch again.

 “I prefer puppet master,” he teased, quirking his brow. Asshole knew this was not nearly enough. He knew your body wanted more. Chris took the camera from then turned it to you.

 “I could help you with that if you want,” Chris offered while palming his appendage.

 You hated him. You were in the process of changing your birth control with the appointment scheduled for next week. This meant that you were birth control free, and Chris knew this. Ever since you’d had the talk where you both decided that you wanted to have kids together, you’d seen a whole different side of him. Every time you made love, it became apparent he had a huge pregnancy kink. He always made sly jokes that he’d put a baby in you. You found it funny the first few times, but you quickly realized he meant it. That was why you decided to get off the pill and opted for something more reliable that didn’t depend on you remembering to take it.

 You not on birth control and ovulating was torture, and he knew it and played on it. Your eyes lingered at his hardness, and your mouth watered while your sex spasmed. You began to think and calculate if you could risk it. As if he knew it, Chris moved his hand so you could see the magnitude of his desire for you. Chris crept to you close enough for your hand to grip him. a groan escaped his lips as the camera he held was pointed at your hand, fondling him.

 “He wants to say hello.”

 Meeting his eyes, you watched him lick his lips, and you were closer than ever to risking it all. Using your feet, you pulled at the elastic of his shorts. In seconds, Chris was helping you, riding his hips of the material to stand before you bare from the waist down. Again, your sex pulsated, wanting his invasion more than anything. His dick rested on your pubis and spasmed every few seconds. You wanted him so fucking bad. Seeing you having difficulty making up your mind, he swiped the tip of his cock up and down your sex, nudging your clit. Every time he did, you whimpered. When you felt him circle himself at your opening, you almost wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him close. Almost. You closed your eyes, trying to find your strength.

 “Do you want him to?”

 Chris’s voice was husky. You bit your bottom lip and audibly gulped before you slammed your thighs shut. He didn’t need your words. Smirking, Chris nodded and backed off, pulling up his shorts. When Chris not so junior disappeared inside the shorts, you groaned.

 “Fuck!”

 Chris snorted, tapped the backside of your thigh closest to your ass. “Not yet, sweetheart, you’ll get there. Let’s go; Scott is ten minutes out.”

 With that, he walked out of the bathroom. You already regretted your decision.

 After finishing your makeup and hair, you put on your costume that was face mask compatible and walked into your living room to see Chris, Scott, and his boyfriend all waiting for you. Tens of pictures, a few posts to IG, a few tik toks, and countless sly ploys at teasing you, the four of you were off. With Scott driving and you and Chris in the backseat, you focused your attention on social media rather than the sexy man beside you with his hand on your thigh. Every so often, his grip would tighten then loosen only to do it again and again. With each tightened grip, you noticed his hand creeping higher and higher. He was not slick.

 By the time you got to the haunted house, it was dark, and the parking lot was packing up. The four of you walked to the line and waited for your turn. Chris, with his surgical mask in place, hugged you from behind.

 “You’re quiet. You okay?”

 “Perfectly fine.”

 He nuzzled your neck and moaned. “Cold?”

 “I’m okay.”

 “Let Dr. Evans know if you’re not.”

 The man wanted to kill you.

 It didn’t take long for your turns to come. After listening to the attendant shout out the rules, the four of you cautiously entered. You didn’t mind getting a little scared on Halloween. That was the point. As you walked through the entrance, you looked around at the décor that was clearly meant to be terrifying. The blood on the walls looked so realistic you paused.

 “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Chris whispered before kissing your temple and taking your hand.

 You walked along the designated path, taking in your surroundings. You knew the first scare would be coming up soon, and you wanted to be prepared.

 “This isn’t so bad,” Scott said. You glanced at him; he was laughing as if this was the homestretch rather than the beginning of the torture.

 As expected, someone dressed in bloodied slaughterhouse gear popped out of nowhere, revving his chain saw pulling a loud scream from you. Chris’s loud laugh echoed around you before you pushed him back when he draped his arm around you.

 “Not funny!”

 You walked ahead with the rest of them behind you, but not even four steps later, a trap door popped open, and out came a group of women dressed as the scariest witches you’d ever seen.

 “Oh my god!” Your shriek was loud but not louder than Chris’s laugh.

 Throughout the entire haunted house, there were jump scares galore. There were some that were scarier than others and some that had even Chris and the guys shrieking every now and then. Though you didn’t want to come out, you were enjoying the night. By the time you made it out, you were so glad to see the night sky.

 “I can’t believe you guys got scared,” Scott teasingly said to Chris and his boyfriend.

 “Those last few rooms really got me,” Chris replied.

 “Not nearly as much as they got, Y/N.”

 All eyes landed on you, making you cross your arms and pout.  “I didn’t even wanna come,” you whined.

 Chris snorted and approached you. “Poor baby. It’s been a hard night for her. we should cut her some slack.”

 Rolling your eyes, you turned your back to them and saw another Halloween attraction.

 “Ooh, is that a funhouse?”

 “Yeah, it’s up for one night. I heard mention of it on the news,” Scott informed.

 “Let’s go,” you blurted before walking off.

 It wasn’t part of the plan, but why not, you thought. It didn’t take long to walk across the field to the funhouse that was nearly deserted. Once there, you were informed you were the last bunch for the night before they closed up and packed it up. Chris paid the entrance fee, and the four of you walked in.

 “First one out wins,” Scott’s boyfriend said before dashing off to the right, leaving you and Chris to go left. You could hear him and Scott giggling like children until one of them tried to quiet the other.

 After a few minutes, the four of you crossed paths, which had all of you laughing.

 “They’re so cute,” you said to Chris once you were alone again.

 “Yeah. They’re not the only ones,” he said, wrapping his arms around you at the same time the lights flipped, coating the entire funhouse in a black light that was usually used in some of the putt-putt golf places.

 “This just got ten times spookier,” you said.

 “I don’t know. I think it just got ten times better. I like you in the dark.”

 You spun in his arms and kissed him. You’d been holding it in all night. Chris moaned and dropped his hands to your ass. His fingertips grazed the bare skin just underneath your ass, making you moan on his lips. Chris delved his tongue into your mouth to curl around yours before he began backing you somewhere. When your back touched a cold surface, you pulled away and slipped out of his arms.

 That was when you saw it was a magic mirror. “Wow.”

 You and Chris stood there as the mirrors began to move, changing design.

 “Holy shit!”

 Neither you nor Chris could stifle your laugh, hearing Scott and his boyfriend shout out in unison.

 “Did you guys know the mirrors moved?”

 “Nope,” Chris shouted back at them.

 “This is fucking awesome,” Scott exclaimed as the mirrors stopped moving.

 You and Chris continued on your path, searching for your way out of the maze. Every few minutes, the mirrors shifted, making it impossible to remember where you’d come or where you were going. Stopping, you spun around, trying to decide on the way to go. At that moment, you felt Chris’s lips on your neck, nibbling your skin.

 “I can’t think when you do that.”

 “Why do you need to think? We’re alone in here. I’m sure there are other things you can do besides think,” Chris coaxed.

 “Oh, really? Like what?”

 Chris’s hand came around to cup your clothed breast, making you melt against him. You could feel the beginning stirs of his erection pressing into your back.

 “I love you, sweetheart.”

 “I love you.”

 “Little Red Riding Hood liked the big bad wolf, right?”

 You knew very well where this was going. Smirking, you bit your bottom lip.

 “I’m sure in the beginning in the forest, she thought he was okay.”

 “Well, we can call this a forest,” Chris suggested, making you smirk.

 “We could. The mirror forest. Why do you ask Mr. Wolf?”

 Chris groaned by your ear then moved his hand to trail down your body to rest at your pelvis.

 “This wolf is ravenous.”

 If he only knew how hard it was to resist him and how ravenous you were right now too, you thought.

 “Ravenous, you say? How so? You ate not too long ago, Mr. Wolf,” you countered.

 “One taste is never enough. Can you help little red riding hood?”

 Chris then bit your shoulder before dipping his hand under the hem of your too short skirt to make connection with your searing pussy.

 “Fuck!”

 “I told you this costume was trouble.”

 “I was supposed to be wearing it around the house, if you recall. This was your idea,” you hammered home.

 Before he could speak again, you pulled yourself together and dashed off.

 “Tell you what, Mr. Wolf, you’ll have to catch your meal tonight,” you sang before disappearing.

 You giggled as you dashed around corners. If it was one thing Chris enjoyed, it was chasing. When you were sure you’d made enough turns that would elude him, you leisurely strode through the funhouse maze, counting how long it took him.

 “Little Red,” Chris sing-songed. “I can smell you, princess.”

 “What do I smell like?”

 “Mine!”

 Chris’s voice was deep and menacing but in the sexiest way. Once he said it, you heard his footsteps speed and knew he was coming. Running behind corner after corner, you didn’t put much thought into the direction you were going. The exhilaration of the chase had you so excited that you didn’t even see him come from behind one of the corners until it was too late.

 “Little red riding hood.”

 The look in his eyes had your belly fluttering and your panties soaking. Slowly you backed away from him.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what great big eyes you have,” you said.

 “All the better to see you and your curves, little red.”

 You smiled and watched him take one step to you, making you take another back that made him slide his tongue across his lips.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a long tongue you have.”

 “All the better to lick you with, little red.”

 He took two more steps to you. You only took one back. Your eyes dropped lower, your attention being drawn to the tent in his pants.

 “Oh my Mr. Wolf, what a big cock you have.”

 Chris smiled widely, eyes locking with yours, giving you that Gemini Flanagan smolder.

 “All the better to fuck you with, little red.”

 Once the words escaped his lips, he pounced on you, lifting you into his arms then pressing your back against one of the mirrors. His lips found yours and took control of a searing, soul-sucking kiss that left you so breathless you were at the point of risking it all.

 “Fuck it,” you grunted out. You could feel Chris smiling on your lips.

 His hands slid down, cupping your ass underneath the red skirt you wore. When you felt his fingers glide against your sex, you whimpered.

 “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

 You quickly nodded your head, no longer interested in keeping him at bay. You wanted to feel him, and you didn’t want to wait.

 “Fuck me!”

 “Here?”

 “Now!”

 Not needing to be told twice, Chris slipped your panties to the side with one hand and opened the fly of his pants, letting lose what your disloyal body craved. In a matter of seconds, Chris plunged his cock into you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You shrieked out but bit onto his shoulder to stifle the sound as much as you could.

 “You guys all right?”

 Chris didn’t stop thrusting into you; he was too far gone with desire. Locking eyes with you, you knew he wanted you to respond.

 “Yes! Eh-em, yes, we’re—we’re—fine,” you stuttered, trying to keep the pleasure from your voice to keep it even toned.

 It was hard. Your jaw dropped when Chris rotated his hips, sending his cock against your walls. You flung your head back, banging it onto the glass.

 “Fuck, you feel so good, princess. So fucking tight,” Chris hissed out.

 His pace never slowed or wavered. He kept it steady, kindling such a fire within you that you knew you’d be coming in no time.

 “Mmm, you’re gonna make me come, baby,” you hastily whispered.

 “Come on this cock, babygirl. Come for me.”

 The way he said baby girl had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Chris changed your body's angle using the mirror as a stabilizing force as he held you by your thighs at the crock where they met your pelvis. The new angle had you moaning loudly.

 “You love daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

 “Yes, I love daddy’s dick. Don’t stop Chris, don’t stop fucking me.”

 The way his thrusts sped, you knew he was close. He’d been holding out the whole week just as you had. It was hanging on by a thread.

 “You want it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Where?”

 “You know where. Fill me up, baby.”

 Chris’s eyebrow quirked as he looked at you with a question in his eyes.

 “Don’t say--,” Chris began.

 “I want it.”

 That was all the permission he needed. He pulled you up and hugged you to him, then kissed you.

 “I’m gonna put this baby in you. You want it?”

 “Yes, baby, give it to me!”

 Chris’s face contorted, and his thrusts staggered. You clenched around him, making him lose his control. As he groaned and whimpered, you did too.

 “Take this dick baby, take it. Have my baby.”

 “Yes, yes, yes!”

 You felt him erupt within you, and it shook you to your core. Your body shook, and you hugged him close, afraid you’d float away from the height of your ecstasy. After several long moments of the two of you coming down from your shared orgasm, Chris moaned into your ear.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a big load you had.”

 Chris smiled, shook his head, then kissed the tip of your nose. “All the better to knock you up with.”

 The two of you bust out laughing together, completely oblivious to anything else around you. When you quieted, you found Chris’s eyes on you.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to crack you all night.”

 You snorted at the pitiful look on his face. “I know, I’m not an idiot, and you’re not as sly as you think you are. I know you’ve been using my weakness this week against me.”

 The smirk he gave you had you rolling your eyes. “I hope you smirk like that when I show you the fruits of your labor,” you teased.

 About five minutes later, you and Chris met Scott and his boyfriend outside, and the four of you walked back to the car ready to call it a night. Once the four of you were in and on your way, Chris grabbed your hand and kissed it.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a big cock you have,” Scott said in a teasing voice, making both yours and Chris’s jaw drop.

 “The better to fuck you with,” Scott’s boyfriend replied, making you and Chris gasp.

 “Oh my god, Scott!”

 “You two are some freaks. In the funhouse?!

 The entire drive home was mortifying as the two of them teased you the whole way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sincerelybubbles]

she’s the one || katsuki bakugou

summary: the three times katsuki bakugou almost kissed you, and the one time he did 

warnings: pining, mutual pining, resolved pining, cursing, drinking 

2.1k words

a/n: happy sunday, i had to take the opportunity to be cliché as fuck, sorry but not really

--

Katsuki Bakugou was not the type to like puzzles – he had exactly no patience for that. Life has enough problems, why the fuck would you add more?

And yet, here he was, trying to work her out, turning her words and actions around in his head over and over like somehow the puzzle of her would click if he just thought hard enough. And, the worst part, he was doing it because he wanted to; he wanted to figure her out, why she made his heart beat so fast when she smiled why he hung onto every word that left her lips – why was he so damn fascinated by those lips? He found himself memorizing the way they looked pronouncing every syllable – especially his name.

His name, something he never really considered, unless Deku was calling him by that dumbass nickname, and yet, here he was craving to hear it rolling off of her tongue.

“Ka. . . Katsuki-kun.” Correction – craving to hear it come out of those perfect lips, sober.

She flopped down next to him, giggling as she wobbled and caught herself on his arm and jostling the beer in his hand.

“Yes?” Katsuki turned his head, not even bothering to make his tone sound annoyed like he normally would, she wouldn’t remember tonight anyway.

“You haven’t sung yet.” She was talking too slow and too loud at the same time.

Katsuki let his eyes drag around the Karaoke bar that his friends dragged him to, spotting Mina and Denki singing a duet on the stage. He winced at their clashing voices.

“Not really my thing.” Katsuki told her, looking down at where her hand was still clutching his arm, debating if he should cut off her drinks before it was too late, and she blacked out completely.

“Just one song?” She pouted and Katsuki found his eyes locked on her protruding lower lip, tempted to lean the small distance forward and capture it in his own. He wondered how she would react.

She would probably kiss him back – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice her lingering glances and flirting comments. But then she’d hold Kirishima’s arm while walking and talk to him in whispered giggles, and Katsuki wasn’t so sure. Maybe he imagined her frequent smiles.

And, even if he was right, which he was about eight-four percent sure he was, he knew she deserved better. He had no idea how to spoil someone how she deserved to be spoiled. Hell, the only experience with girls he’d ever had were the few flings he had in college.

Even still, he found himself fighting the urge to close the distance, to take her still pouting lip in between his own, to kiss her until she was gasping and clutching at his shirt.

He refrained – she wouldn’t even remember tonight, and if she did, she’d count it as a drunken mistake.

“’Suki-chan?” She asked, and his heart pounded at the shortening of his name. It sounded to pure, innocent, casual rolling off her tongue.

“Fine, but you’re going up with me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

She squealed and jumped up, grabbing his hand, and attempting to pull him up.

“One song.” He reminded her, standing only when she was nodding enthusiastically.

“One song!” She promised, holding out her pinky to him. She giggled when he hesitantly looped his pinky through hers, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

He followed her, of course he did. And when she asked to sing another duet after their first? Of course, he complied, relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him, her giggles only heard by him.

--

How dare she wear that. How dare she show up to this dumb ass event wearing that.

The skirt to her dress was surely missing a few inches, and the shoulder she was showing had him transfixed for much longer then it should have.

It was a simple barbeque; how dare she dress so cute. How dare she make him consider something cute.

Katsuki would consider himself a simple man. He typically only really looked at girls as people – obstacles in his way to the top – maybe once or twice on a lonely night as someone to fill his bed. Never as someone cute. He never listened so intently when someone talked, never was so willing to make someone smile. He never considered someone before himself, and yet here he was filling her a drink before he’s even made his own because her favorite drink happened to be nearly gone.

“Here.” He knew he startled her slightly as she jumped before taking the cup from his hand with a smile. He found it wasn’t hard to return it, before he leaned on the table beside her, sipping his own drink. He made a face at the sickly-sweet taste enveloping his tongue.

“Not your favorite?” She asked, and Katsuki realized his error.

“Shit, this was supposed to be for you, that ones mine.” He pushed himself off from the table, prepared to walk across the yard and find her another cup when hands much smaller than his own gently pried the cup from his hands.

“I figured.” She was giggling beside him, offering the cup in her hand to him. He took it, watching the drink she stole from him in her hands. Tracking its path as it made its way to her lips, watched as she took a slow sip and smiled at the sweet taste he grimaced at only moments before. He watched as her tongue peeked from behind her lips to catch any leftover taste. “Thank you, Katsuki-kun.”

It was all he could do to nod, swallowing and taking a sip from his own drink, fighting another grimace as he found it too bitter now.

He wondered if he pressed his lips to hers, would he mind the sweetness?

He let himself imagine, only for a moment, pressing his lips to hers, catching her cheek in his hand, titling her back and deepening it. He could almost hear her gasp.

“Let’s go dance!” She exclaimed, jumping up and throwing back the rest of her drink. Realizing he wasn’t copying her, she jutted one hip out and held her opposite hand out for him. “C’mon Katsuki-kun.” She fluttered her lashes. “You wouldn’t leave a lady to dance alone, right?”

“Ah, right.” He found himself saying, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head reminding him he hated dancing.

Dancing with her was almost unfair, he was allowed to put his hand on her hip, to draw her close, to feel her chest brush against his for a second, but she always wound up twirling away from him.

“You’re an awful dancer.” He observed, catching her as she almost fell again.

“And you’re shockingly good at dancing.” She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on his shoulders, applying pressure. “Although, you’re much too stiff! Relax, Katsuki-kun, dancing is about having fun.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away with a scoff to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Yeah, okay.” Why couldn’t he think of something better to say? Now she was quiet, although still smiling. He found himself looking into her eyes. She licked her lips, and he found himself mimicking the action.

They slowly twirled for a few moments, captivated. Katsuki could barely focus on the music enough to ensure that he was swaying to the right beat.

“See? You’re much relaxed.” Her breath fanned across his face, and Katsuki scoffed gently.

“Yeah, okay.” He forced his tone to be annoyed but knew that she saw through it. She always saw right through him. He expected her to call him out on his bullshit, like she always did, but instead she only smiled and pulled herself closer to him – oh God was she trying to kill him?

She tilted her chin up, and he was bending his neck down. Shit, she wanted this as much as he did, right? Her eyes were closing, and so were his. Her bottom lip brushed his upper lip and he fought a shudder forcing its way up his chest.

“Hey- oh!” Fucking shitty hair, Katsuki could kill him right now.

Katsuki listened as they talked and laughed. He fought to keep himself breathing through the rage forcing its way through his veins. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

She had stepped away, although her hand was still pressing into his forearm, holding him in place much closer to him then they usually stood.

“We were just playing ping pong.” Katsuki found it in him to look up at Kirishima, to act as if he had been listening. To act like the best chance he had to fulfil his fantasies hadn’t just been ripped away. “Do you want to go play a round?” And shit, she was just going to leave, and he was going to have to just stand here –

“Maybe in a bit, Katsuki and I were about to go get some food.” Then she was smiling and tugging him along. The lights around him were blurring. No worries, they were dull compared to her.

She brought him to a secluded area before turning around suddenly. His breath was caught in his throat at the repressed frustration written clear as day across her face. He waned to reach forward and capture her cheek with his hand, to hug her and make the look go away.

He pressed the thought down, annoyed at his own thoughts. Who the fuck was he to have such sappy thoughts? Plus, she was obviously upset with him. Chasing this stupid dream wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he needed to stop.

“You always look at me like you want to kiss me, why don’t you ever just do it?” Katsuki hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her words. He shoved his fists into his pockets and shrugged.

It was no use denying the fact, he didn’t think he was able to lie to her after nearly kissing her moments before.

“I didn’t want to assume.” It was one of the most honest things he had ever said, and it was completely true.

“Assume away.” She whispered, taking a step closer to him. He felt his eyes widen and instinctually, he took a step back.

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” He asked, angry that he was probably taking this all the wrong away.

“’Suki-kun.” Her voice was soft as her eyes searched his. She took a step closer and placed her hand on his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “It’s just me, you don’t have to act that way.”

He watched her with wary eyes as she intertwined her arms around his neck slowly. He found his hands making their way to her hip, the small of her back. He really didn’t want her to move, but he really didn’t want to be wrong.

Fuck, he really really wanted to kiss the breath out of her. He wanted to claim her in every way possible. He had a list longer than his arm of things he wanted to take her to see.

But none of it was worth loosing her entirely over a stupid fucking crush. He had to be sure.

“Kiss me.” She said, clear as a bell. She was close enough that he felt the words before he heard them.

Before he could even think, he moved the hand from her hip to her cheek and pulled her closer, tipping her head back and crashing his lips against hers.

He always swore to himself that if he ever got the chance to kiss her, he would be gentle. He would take his time. But he didn’t have the restraint, and found himself growing into the kiss, kissing her with a bruising force.

He swallowed her moans as he moved his tongue against hers, feeling as though he would never tire of the taste of her. She pulled away all too soon and pressed her forehead against his, breathing heavily. A few short breaths later she leaned forward to press a series of short kisses onto his mouth.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

While he had thought it before, this was the moment for certain that Katsuki Bakugou knew that he was hers. He would take anything she would give and knew he would be content with that. Sharing the same breath with her in this moment confirmed that.

He always thought being in love would make him feel weak, but in this moment, with her mouth reaching toward his again, he felt stronger than ever.

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #15: Slow Night: Mirio Togata

In which you and Mirio aren’t having much luck on patrol together.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), Pro Hero Mirio, aged up characters, size kink, smaller reader, tummy bulge (? Idk what it’s called), vaginal sex, cock riding, police scanners, rooftop sex

Notes: I’m back on my Mirio bullshit today. Only this time, it’s thirsty, thirsty, thirsty. Today’s prompt was ‘size difference,’ and I... ah, what was I saying?

I’m horny for Mirio and frankly, it shows.

Kinktober Masterlist

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling it.”

It’s a chilly night for patrol, but the air is clear as a bell. You’re squatting on the flat rooftop of some corporate skyscraper, puffing frost into the air and huddling together around the tiny police scanner. It’s been silent all night- so silent that, at one point, you had to check the batteries, just to make sure you weren’t missing out on the action.

Tonight’s the first cold one all year, and you’re starting to wish that you had thought to transition into your winter gear. At least that suit comes with gloves- your fingertips are like icicles as you rub your palms together.

“Yeah.” Mirio shifts next to you, irritatingly warm and cheerful as always. He runs like a radiator no matter what season it is. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck and gives a deep chuckle. “I guess it’s been pretty quiet for a while, hasn’t it?”

You deadpan. “Not a single call. Not one. We could’ve been halfway through the new season of Schitt’s Creek by now.”

You’ll never honestly resent this part of your job. Pro hero work isn’t always about flashy rescues and daring escapes. Sometimes, it just means being there, in case. But you can’t deny that a night as dead as this one puts you in a sour mood.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, slipping a weighty arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. “We got all day tomorrow, I promise. We’re taking Saturdays now, remember?”

He drops a kiss to the crown of your head, sending a pleased warmth through your entire body. The lines between partner and lover had been blurred a long time ago, but you usually try to keep them separated when you’re in the field.

Still, you suppose there’s nothing typical about tonight.

“Cold?” He nudges, and you scoot a little closer. You’re starting to shiver.

“Aww,” he continues. “C’mere, little moonbeam. Lemme warm you up.”

He tugs you into his lap and rubs your upper arms, doing his best to warm you up. Then he pulls you tightly against his chest, hanging his chin over the top of your head and curling his body around yours.

“You’re so tiny,” he laughs, drawing a hand up the column of your back. “So small. I bet I could pick you up with one hand.”

You can feel the heat beginning to rise on your cheeks and the temptation to scramble off his lap and call it a night spikes. There’s no denying the difference between you. It’s not like it’s difficult, to be smaller than Mirio.

“You can,” you remind him. “You have.”

Not your proudest moment.

He reaches over and gives the swell of your hip a little pinch, making you yelp and squirm against him. His expression is masked in the shadowy darkness, but the glint of his eyes is unmistakeable.

You’re in trouble.

“Let’s stay out here a little longer,” he murmurs. His hips tilt up against yours as he buries the tip of his flushed nose into the crook of your neck.

“Babe…” you protest, but the urge to fall in with him is quickly outgrowing the urge to resist him. His warm breath puffs over your skin and he presses his lips to the point where your neck meets your shoulder, smiling against you.

“C’mon,” he grunts. “I’ll keep you warm, princess. I promise.”

He slips a gloved hand under your chin, tilting your face up as he straightens. He leans in and captures your mouth- slowly, at first, building the urgency naturally. It’s something he’s always been good at, playing it cool with his kisses. It’s how he always gets you, too. You find yourself leaning in to match his desire before you even realize.

Your hands curl in the front of his suit. His palms slide to your hips as your knees fall to either side of his lap. He slides his fingers back, groping your ass. He gives it a little slap.

“Miri-“ you start to gasp, but he shuts you up with a bruising kiss.

“Hero names, princess,” he rasps. “I’d hate for someone to be listenin’ in on us.”

“Can it, Lemillion,” you growl back. You take his jaw in your hands and kiss all the smugness from his face, grinding your hips down against him and making him groan, making his cock stir to life down the left leg of his tight suit.

He lifts his hand to the zipper at your throat and starts tugging it down. As he gets the tab to the bottom of your sternum, he pauses, pulling back from your mouth to hook his fingers in the edges of your suit and yank it down off your shoulders, exposing your bare chest in the chill of the night.

“Thought so,” he growls, leaning in to nose at your collar bone. “Been lookin’ over at you all night, princess. You really didn’t think I’d notice that you left your bra at home?”

He’s palming one of your breasts now, his gloves cool, but not nearly as chilled as your own fingers. Your fingers dive spitefully into his perfectly styled hair, unafraid to muss.

“So perfect,” he whispers against you. “You fit right in my hand. Like a little peach.” He gives the flesh of your breast a squeeze before his mouth descends on you. He licks and sucks your nipple into his mouth, taut and tender from the chill. From his teasing.

You barely feel the cold on your back, squeezing your eyes shut and clinging to him. Your hips buck forward and you find the strain of his erection, sliding the apex of your thighs shamelessly along it as his arms slide around you. His face is buried in your chest right now, nipping across your breasts and sucking at your other nipple like a man starved.

“Let me stretch you,” he grumbles, eagerly pushing his hips into your sloppy rhythm. “Let me have you, princess, right here. Let me see you.”

You tear the zipper the rest of the way down your front and help him shrug you out of the clingy fabric. He peels it down to your thighs and gets to work on his own clothes, digging his fingers under the top portion of his suit to dislodge his pants and shove them down. His cock springs into the space between you, thick and long and flushed like the rest of him. Your mouth goes dry.

He gets you every time.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, reaching between your legs and swiping a gloved finger along your slit. “I’ll make it fit. Just like I always do.”

He reaches around you, pulling your hips forward. You spread your legs and slip your hand between them, spreading your folds as you settle your hips over the tip of his cock. At the apex like this, it feels like there’s no way his thick head will ever make it. But he holds himself steady, and you work yourself down. Millimetre by millimetre.

“That’s it, my little princess,” he coos, sliding his other hand in and out of the curve of your waist as he watches you struggle. “No preparation at all. Look at you. You’re gonna be so tight for me, I can feel it already.”

He slides his hand in and thumbs the swell of your clit. You yelp, hips jerking downward, and the head of his cock pops past your tight entrance. The sting rushes through your body, but you’ve learned to live for it by now.

“Oh, man,” he groans. “Look at you go. So tight around me, princess. You’re gonna wring me out good.”

With a few more heartbeats of encouraging words, you work yourself onto his cock. Mirio groans and juts his hips into you, places his hand on the flat of your belly where the tip of his cock pushes at your flesh. He’s so much, too much to take all at once, but you’re addicted to the feeling that only he can bring.

Nobody fills you as deeply as Mirio.

“Look at your little tummy,” he growls, “bulging all for me. You’re so small, I can’t believe I haven’t split you in two by now.”

He grabs your hips between his hands. His thumbs nearly touch in the middle, and he grips you tight as he starts to thrust up into you. The chill hovers in the air around you, but there’s only heat between you as you throw your head back, boneless already.

“Miri… Lem… Lemillion,” you whine as your pussy clenches around him.

“That’s it, princess,” he gasps, starting to lose himself already. “That’s it. Let me work you so good. God, you’re so tiny, I-“

His words are lost as you slip a hand between your legs and start to stroke your clit. The pleasure overwhelms you and you clench around him, milking the pleasure from his body with every stroke.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts. “Not gonna last long as all, with you touchin’ yourself like that.” You know when he starts to curse that he’s really losing control. You lick your lips and re-double your efforts. Your wrist starts to ache, but you’re too close to stop now.

“Baby,” you gasp, “Shit, I-…” You can feel that rubber band drawing tighter in your lower belly. Threatening to snap around him at any moment.

“I’m there,” he pants. “I’m there, princess, god, milk my cock with your tight little pussy.”

It doesn’t take more than that.

You come with a howl into the skyline and he follows close behind. He seizes your hips and drags you against him, slamming your body against his balls as he pumps his hips upward and grunts, coming hard. He buries his face into the crook of his neck as your pussy convulses around him, taking every pump of ecstasy that he spills into you.

Both of you take your time coming round, letting the haze dissipate slowly. By the time you open your eyes the sleepy bliss of your orgasm is starting to wear off, and the cold of the waning night sets in.

The dull hiss of static prompts your ears. Mirio looks first, realizing that it’s the police scanner. You hook your chin over his shoulder, watching.

“…jewelry shop…west 89th and Parkdale…violent Quirk…”

“Holy shit.” You jump off his lap, hurrying to zip yourself back into your suit. West 89th and Parkdale isn’t far at all. If you hurry, you could still make it in time.

“What’d I tell ya, princess?” Mirio chuckles, tucking his softening cock back into his suit and tugging the two halves of his costume together again. “Staying out here’d be worth your while.”

You’re stiff as you finish buckling up the last of your suit, but you can’t hide the way you’re smirking.

He’s right. Definitely worth it.

[imagine-darksiders]

Old Timer.

Chapter 3 - An Old Friend.

----

The maker's footfalls are almost lost beneath the swishing of long grass that sways and whispers in ripples all across the valley, swathes of moonlight turning their blades silver as they flow with the wind. Were it not for the rhythmic thuds sending tremors through your body and coinciding with each step he takes, you'd almost think he was gliding across the vale. You've never known a maker to walk so smoothly.

Unbeknownst to you, even he isn't sure if he's ever trodden so softly before.

Then again, when was the last time he'd held something in his hands that felt as though it might shatter at the slightest jolt or jostle? He can’t help thinking that all it would take is one trip, just one stumble and he might accidentally... A loud gulp disturbs the relatively peaceful walk, and though the sound of it garners your brief and curious gaze, the maker manages to cover it by clearing his throat and keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Your skin feels like silk beneath his inelegant fingertips and it takes more conscious effort than he'd like to admit to refrain from letting his fingers wander up to your bare arms. Even having you pressed gingerly against his pectorals sends an unexpected shiver racing up his spine.

He can't help but beam proudly when he notices that your head is on a constant swivel, staring around at the hills and valley with a look of astonishment plastered on your face, which gets him wondering what in the world your realm must look like. He imagines it must be somewhere beautiful, to produce such beautiful people.

Chuckling warmly, he twitches his thumb against your hip and asks, “So, what're you doing in the Forge Lands anyway?”

He's rewarded by a fleeting glance from strikingly intricate irises. “That's... a long story,” you mutter.

The maker's chest rumbles with an intrigued hum. “My favourite kind!”

His enthusiasm proves contagious and after indulging him in a smile, you look skywards and reply, “Well, since you ask, I'm afraid I'm not exactly here on purpose.”

“You mean you didn't travel here just to get a taste of the local flavour?” he smirks, flashing you a wink.

In spite of yourself, your exasperated smile only grows. “Lewd. And, no, what I mean is... All right, what do you know about portals?”

Okay, so maybe he doesn't need to know that you've come from another time entirely, but perhaps there isn't any harm in telling him the manner in which you came to be here. You're aware that most species in Creation – Humanity notwithstanding – have utilised portals as a means of travel between the connected realms. An unconventional method of getting about for humans maybe, but commonplace for a maker.

He may even be able to help you figure out what went wrong and why Death hasn't come to fetch you yet. Because you're one hundred percent certain that the Horseman wouldn't just leave you here.

...

Would he?

'No.' You tell the doubting voice sternly, giving your head a shake to throw the thought from your mind. He wouldn't do that to you. Nor would he have been bested by a couple of constructs.

So, that can't be the reason you're still here.

The maker's contemplative hum draws your attention and you glance up at the underside of his beard as he muses aloud, “Portals? Mmm, beyond stepping in them and getting to the other side, there's not a whole lot to them, why?”

“Well, that's how I got here,” you explain, “Through a portal in the woods. It wasn't supposed to bring me... uh, here though.”

“Oh?” The maker raises an eyebrow and steps into the entrance of a long, spacious tunnel, “Where were you expecting to end up then?”

“Well, that's the thing,” you say glumly, “It wasn't supposed to happen at all. I... fell into it.” Just then, you find yourself awash in the soft, blue glow emanating from dozens of glow stones that have been dotted along the tunnel walls. 

Slowly, he nods, his hair shimmering silver in the ethereal light. “Right. So, erm, where did you fall into it?”

You open your mouth, hesitating for an awkward few seconds before you manage to reply, “On Earth.”

“Hmm.” Carefully sliding a hand out from underneath you, he raises it to scratch at his chin. “Well, portals can be fickle things, depending on who created them in the first place. Mostly, they take you where they're s'posed to lead. Sometimes, they take you where you want to go, but then there're those times when they'll take you where you need to go.”

“Oh great. All the portals I could have fallen into, and I fall into the one with a degree in psychology.”

“Hey, you fell into it by mistake,” he points out, “can't blame the portal for bringing you here.”

“No..” You feel him slip his hand beneath your legs again. “No, I suppose I can't.” 

Because you didn't fall into it by mistake, did you? Death had activated it under your feet. He meant to send you... somewhere. For all of his unpalatable qualities, privately, the Horseman is remarkably intelligent. You have no doubt that he did a thousand calculations in those few seconds before he shot you back through time, weighed the pros and the cons, considered all the risks... He's loathe to admit it but he makes it quite obvious that he cares about what happens to you, if not through words then through his actions. He wouldn't have left you here. Not if he didn't think he could get you back again.

“Hold tight,” the maker suddenly murmurs, drawing you out of your thoughts and you instinctively latch onto his thumb, despite being held in perhaps the steadiest hands in the known Universe. As it turns out, he simply steps up onto an elevated section of the tunnel. 

Anticlimactic.

Shaking your head with a snort, you turn your gaze to the far end, where a soft, orange glow is seeping in through the arched entrance. Apprehension has you drawing your uninjured leg up to your chest and you’re quite firmly reminded that this isn't the Tri Stone you've come from, and these aren't your friends. They're strangers. You are a stranger.

You take a couple of deep, nervous breaths, stilling when the maker's thumb bumps hesitantly against your side. “Not nervous, are you?” he asks, teasing.

You are, as a matter of fact. Though perhaps not for the same reason he suspects. Truthfully, the prospect of seeing your friend again after you'd watched him die puts the fear of God into you.  How on Earth will you react? What will you say to him? Should you warn him? What if you say the wrong thing and he ends up disliking you? What if Death comes to take you back and you find you can’t say goodbye to him again?

Swallowing, you wet your lips and admit, “A little, I guess.”

Your admission brings a guttural murmur to the maker’s throat and his hands cup a bit more securely around you. Whether the reaction is conscious or not, you aren't sure. But you decide not to mention it.

“You think I'd pull you out of trouble, just to let you get hurt on my watch? In my village? Some of this lot might be a bit boisterous, but they're good folk, and any friend of mine'll be a friend of theirs.”

“Oh? And who said I was a friend of yours?” You shoot him an impish grin, which he returns, peeling his lips back to reveal the extent of his gleaming, ivory tusks.

“Seem to recall it being you, you little smart aleck. Called me a boddy, didn't you?”

“A buddy.”

“S'what I said.” 

A snort explodes from you before you can lift a hand to catch it.

Encouraged, the giant lifts you closer to his face and continues, “You can laugh, sweetheart, but naming me a friend was your mistake. You'll have a hell of a time getting rid of me now.”

At the back of your mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Death's instructs you not to go and start making friends in a place you'll probably, hopefully, be leaving soon - a tricky feat when you're faced with an incorrigible maker who keeps flashing you charming grins and coy remarks. Besides, you're not going to be cold just because you might not stick around. You're a human, not a Horseman.

Dropping your leg back over the side of his hand, you clear your throat to smother a chuckle and say, “You must have no end of friends if you make them that easily.”

It only lasts for a moment, but you don't miss how the hands you're pressed into go stiff and rigid. Then, as though it had never happened, the maker juts out his chest, chin sticking high in the air. “Course I've got friends,” he declares, “But I'll have you know, I'm very selective.”

You raise a skeptical brow. “Really?”

“Aye, really!” Chuckling nervously, his eyes dart away from you and back again and he's a little too quick to point out, “Oh, wouldja look at that! We're here!”

Sure enough, as you turn to follow his gaze, you suddenly find yourself awash in warmth and light. Squinting, you raise a hand to shield your eyes after the tunnel's comfortable darkness, blinking out at a distantly familiar, yet unrecognisable scene.

It's the village of Tri Stone all right, only it looks almost new, at least compared to the village you'd left behind. For one, there's a lot less space between the buildings now. Grey, stone huts are packed almost on top of one another in clusters, running up and down the left and right of the bridge that stretches over the seemingly bottomless gorge below. In the place where Muria’s gazebo will stand, there is instead an enormous, open walled garden, bursting with herbs and flowers that stand much taller than you do. 

There are lanterns and glow stones strung up like bunting over the village, leaving everything bathed in that warm, orange light that drapes over you like a comforting blanket. At the far end of the bridge, you spot the distinct doorway leading to the maker's forge and part of you wants to breathe a sigh of relief, drawing small comfort from the familiarity of the stone face carved out of the very mountain itself. 

The village's architecture, however, is not the reason for the gasp that escapes you. 

Milling about between the buildings – in greater numbers than you've ever seen before – are dozens of makers, all shapes, sizes and ages. There are those clothed in lush, richly coloured robes, those wearing leathers and furs and even some who are fully decked out in silver and gold armour.

Older makers gather in small groups, some of them talking animatedly amongst themselves, though the tones are such an amalgamation of low, gravelly sounds that you can't pick out any specific words from your vantage point at the top of the village. In an instant, you begin to rake your gaze over the crowd, searching with a hesitant desperation for that familiar flash of white beard or sweeping prongs protruding from an intricate headpiece.

Then, you spot something that gives you pause. 

Dashing between the adults, almost lost amongst the sea of vast legs, you catch glimpses of far smaller creatures, and it isn't until one of them suddenly emerges from behind a maker's boot that you realise exactly what it is you're looking at.

Without warning, your jaw practically comes unhinged.

They're.... younglings. Proper younglings - not like Karn, who was only called as such because he happened to be younger than the others. These are quite clearly children. And while they'd tower about you by a few feet, some of them hardly seem to reach their elders' knees.

Enraptured and knowing full-well that you're witnessing something secret and precious, you watch them chase each other between long legs and weave around the huts, brandishing wooden swords at one another, save for a few of the smaller ones who cling to the older giants and observe their playmates with shy reticence, content to wait until they're big or brave enough to join in.

It's a community. An entire community of makers.

Your throat is tighter than a vice when you try to swallow.

There's a soft and proud smile tugging at the maker's lips as he observes you, revelling in the dumbfounded expression on your face. 

After giving you a few more moments to soak in your surroundings, he leans down and lets his warm breath wash over the back of your neck. “Welcome to Tri Stone,” he murmurs.

It's beautiful, in a tragic way, only because you've seen it in its future state, and compared to this - this lively, bustling village – the Tri Stone you've come from seems so much like a ghost town. To think... one day, most of this will be gone, and in its place will stand a comparatively lonely and melancholy place. At some point in the future, though you can't hazard a guess as to when, your friends will lose it all....

A single tear wells up in one corner of your eye, but you're quick to deftly swipe it away before the maker can see it.

“Here.. Why don’t I... �� His thick, smoky voice trails off and flutters into your ear and you find yourself being lifted up. You don’t say a word as he gingerly tips his palm and watches you all the way onto his shoulder until he’s satisfied that you’re situated securely upon it. At the questioning glance he receives, he merely shrugs, explaining, “Thought you’d prefer the view from up there.” 

He neglects to mention that he’ll feel much better the further away you are from the ground, and any, wayward boots that might stomp just a little too close for his liking.  

“Now,” he adds, clapping his palms together and already missing the subtle weight of having you held between them “Let’s go and find -” 

“Ah. So, you've returned, at last.” A rasping and admittedly rather grating voice rings out above the village's gentle ambiance and the maker below you groans upon hearing it, turning himself to face the empty staircase on his right and subsequently giving you a better view of the haggard, ancient being shuffling towards you.

Honestly, you can't help but to stare, having never thought you'd get to see a person who could make Eideard look young.

It's another maker, a very old maker, draped in stark, white robes that wash out his pasty complexion and leave him looking sicklier than you imagine he really is. There's almost no colour to him at all, in fact, as though all the life has drained out of his body and left him as little more than a pale ghost, dragging himself towards you on crooked legs, helped along by a staff that resembles the limbless trunk of a birch tree, all mottled and white like its wielder.

As he draws closer, you start to make out the muffled grumbles spat from his thin, drawn lips. Without really meaning to, you shrink against your maker's neck, one hand squeezing around a lock of his silken hair. Why couldn’t he have worn a cowl for you to duck behind?

“You're late,” the old giant wheezes, coming to a halt in front of him, raising a gnarled finger and jabbing it sharply into the younger maker's chest, “You were told to return before the suns fell. Your duties have gone neglected. Again.”

Undeterred by the accusing tone, your new friend turns his head to catch your eye and throws you a wink, plastering on his signature grin before he faces the newcomer once more. “Ah, Cruim! Just the maker we wanted to see-”

“That's Elder Cruim to you, boy,” the other maker sneers, stroking his nails down the long, silver beard that hangs from his chin all the way to the ground, “Where have you been? No doubt getting yourself into trouble, as usual.”

“Oh, you know me. I can't help myself!” he replies with a shrug, accidentally jostling you on his shoulder and causing you to let out a soft gasp at the sudden motion.

Unfortunately for you, although this 'Cruim's' eyes resemble the colour of sour milk, they manage to find you without difficulty and once they do, they widen in visible surprise, his mouth falling open to reveal crooked teeth and a missing tusk.

Shyly, you lift one of your hands and give him a tiny wave. “Uh... Hi?”

His razor-sharp gaze snaps to the younger maker and he subjects him to a scathing glare, hissing, “What... is that thing?”

“Errr..” Your friend's smile droops and he shares another quick glance with you before he admits, “Actually, we were hoping you might have some idea.”

Gradually, your heart begins to sink as the old maker gives you another, suspicious look, recognition never once alighting in his eyes.

“It's um, good to meet you, Sir,” you venture weakly, trying not to sound as though you're desperate, “We just thought... someone as ol – uh, worldly as you would have seen someone like me before. In your travels?... Perhaps?” Already feeling small, you let your voice fade into nonexistence. 

If nothing else, getting at least a general idea of the epoch you're in might be incremental in getting you back to your own timeline. On the off chance that Cruim has heard of humans before, then you can safely narrow the date down to... oh, within the last four and a half billion years.

You sigh.

One of the giant's wispy eyebrows lifts and he wrinkles his nose, but doesn't otherwise respond to your question, instead electing to squint at you dubiously, sending your heart-rate up a few notches.

“This here's a hoo-man,” the young maker encourages, hoping to perhaps jog his memory, yet all he receives in response is a skeptical 'harrumph.'

“It... it's hyu-man,” you correct him softly, enunciating the word whilst you privately long for the interaction to be over so that you can get back to looking for Eideard, and if not him, then Muria. The pain in your leg may be less severe, but you’re conscious that the wounds still need seeing to.

“A human? Pah! There's no such species!” the old one spits, “Whatever that thing told you, it's lying.”

Beneath your legs, you feel the maker's shoulder tense as he draws himself up, hackles raised. “That thing,” he says slowly, erring on a growl, “happens to be a friend of mine.”

He doesn’t notice the soft, ‘Huh?’ that slips from your tongue, nor the surprised wonder shining in your eyes as you turn to stare at him.

In contrast, Cruim evidently couldn’t care less, and with an exasperated huff, he throws his eyes up to the sky and tuts, tossing his hand out towards you aggressively. “I swear, you always were soft-headed as a youngling. Nothing much seems to have changed with age...” He pauses to reaffix you with a glare, still addressing his younger counterpart as he adds, “It's a glamoured demon, you fool. Nothing more. Now, get rid of it before it causes mayhem in my village.”

Suddenly, a gut-wrenching pit of fear opens up in your stomach. You know exactly what makers think of demons, but just as you try to sputter out assurances that you most certainly are not a demon in disguise, the young maker grunts, twisting himself sideways so that the shoulder you're sitting on is moved further away from his elder, partially hiding you from view behind a waterfall of golden hair.

“Just hold on a whit. This little'un is no demon!” he declares, swelling to his full height until he's looming over the old maker, “You think I wouldn't recognise glamour magic if I sensed it? Now, I might not know what a human is, but I'm inclined to believe that I've met one today - one who needs our help.”

Despite the distant hum of the village, you feel as though you're sitting in a silent bubble of existence miles away from everything else, locked in this one, single moment as the pair of makers stare one another down whilst you watch with bated breath.

Somehow, you get the impression that this isn't the first time they've locked horns.

Your maker stands at least two heads taller than his older counterpart, but the latter has the advantage of being a respected figure, one whose authority is rarely, if ever questioned or challenged. And makers are nothing if not an honourable lot. It's difficult to believe that the younger one is standing up against his own elder in your defence. You, a stranger in their home.

You fully expect him to back down first.

So it comes as a huge surprise when it’s the old one who breaks eye contact and shakes his head, disappointment and contempt radiating off him in tangible waves. “I miss the days when you younglings would listen to your elders.”

“That was 'fore I learned that my elders are capable of being wrong sometimes.”

Cruim's fists clench tightly around his staff, but he takes a step back, levelling the maker with his icy sneer. “Fine. You won't be told... Blind yourself to my warnings. But mark me...” Trailing off to heave his rickety bones around, he begins to shuffle away once more, heading for the staircase that sweeps down towards the lower tier of the village. Upon reaching the top step, he twists his head over a shoulder and calls, “If your little stray causes any trouble, I will be holding you personally responsible....” Then, with a sigh, he lowers his voice and turns away once more, but not before he adds in an uncharacteristically soft murmur, “You can't keep trying to make friends with every creature that catches your fancy. One of these days, your heart will be the thing that gets you killed, Eideard.”

And just like that, with the utterance of a single word, the realm around you grinds to an abrupt and dizzying halt.

The soft-eyed maker doesn't seem to realise that the tiny being on his shoulder has stopped breathing. He continues to watch Cruim descend the staircase until he's out of sight, and only then does he lose his rigid stance.

“Ah, don't pay him any mind,” he huffs dismissively, “Time's made him bitter and suspicious. I know you’re telling the truth.”

But you're barely listening to him. Suddenly, you don't care that the elder hasn't heard of your species. You don't give a damn that you're lost between the fabric of time, billions of years separated from Death and the rest of your friends. Even the ache in your leg is forgotten, drowned out by the cruel knife of grief that lodges into your heart and gives a vicious twist, stealing the breath right out of you. Everything threatens to hit you all at once, disbelief first, then confusion and shock, misery, hope, guilt. It all leaves you numb as your brain tries to sift through the nauseating torrent of emotions until it finally settles upon the one it can most easily comprehend for the moment. 

Apprehension.

Stiffly, with your heart jackhammering against your ribcage, you twist yourself around to face the maker properly, the beginnings of a sob catching in your throat. “Wha...What did he just... call you?”

“Hmm?” The maker pivots his neck in your direction, taking in your haunted stare for a moment before he suddenly realises that... That's right. He'd never actually introduced himself to his new friend. 

“Oh, maker's bones, look at me, forgetting my manners.” Beaming, he fixes you under his warm, blue gaze which is now so, jarringly familiar that you can hardly believe you never recognised it in the first place.

“My name's Eideard, little one. At your service.”

[gamergirl929]

3 Women And A Baby (Preath x Reader)

@everygayiam​ Request: Could you do a preath x reader where they are starting to have a family and they're going through the process of finding a donor, getting pregnant, etc.? If not, any preath would do.

You grimace rolling back and forth as you attempt to get comfortable, though the second a hand settles on your protruding belly, you smile, the woman behind you mumbling, voice rough from lack of use.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Tobin rasps and you nod, wiggling back against her, the woman smiling as she buries her nose in the back of your neck.  

Christen is soon alerted to you discomfort, wiggling until she’s able to duck down, and bury her face in your neck.  

Her hand settles on top of Tobin’s, the feel of kicking feet beneath their palms.

“You sure you’re okay?” Christen asks sleepily. “She seems a little livelier than usual.” She smiles as the unborn child kicks her and Tobin’s palm.

“I wish she’d break dance during the day.” You yawn, the two women giggling, Christen pressing a kiss to the tip your nose while Tobin kisses the spot just below your ear.

“Maybe she’s getting us ready for when we have to wake up in the middle of the night?” Christen giggles and you yawn.

“We?” You snort. “You and Toby are on nightly baby duty for at least 9 months.”  

The two women share a glance, both smiling.  

You smile when both women cuddle into you, your hand resting on there’s as you all snuggle together.

“I think we can do that…” Tobin shrugs, nuzzling into the nape of your neck, Christen’s nose playfully nudging yours.

“You did carry her. I think you deserve a break.”  

You grin.  

“Best girlfriends EVER.”  

Tobin grins.

“We know “

You roll your eyes, pecking Christen’s lips before rolling over, pressing a kiss to Tobin’s lips as Christen snuggles into your back.  

“Sleep.” Christen whispers as she and Tobin snuggle back into you, hands on your stomach.

Soon you can no longer fight your fluttering eyelids, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

You mumble, voice slurring as you fall headlong into the world of dreams.

“I love you guys.”

                                                           ***

“It worked... I’m pregnant.”  

You would never forget the look on Christen's and Tobin’s faces, the two women bursting into tears, their hands on your stomach as they peppered your face with kisses.  

After multiple times of the IVF not taking, after many tears and many thoughts of giving up, it had FINALLY taken, you, Tobin and Christen were going to be parents.  

Christen sniffled, pressing a kiss to your lips before Tobin followed suit, their kisses salty from your and their tears.  

“We’re going to be mommies.” Christen sniffles and you grin, wrapping your arms around the both of them.  

“And I have two of the best mommies right here.”  

Tobin and Christen each cup one of your cheeks.  

“You’re going to be the best mommy too Y/N.”  

                                                           ***

You wake with a smile, the dream of one of the best days in your life making your heart swell.  

You glance around, grimacing, realizing both Tobin and Christen must’ve waken early, but the smell of bacon makes you grin.  

Christen’s head pokes into the room, the forward beaming when she realizes you’re awake.  

“Look who’s awake.”  

Christen moves towards the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips as you wiggle around until your feet touch the floor.  

“There she is.”  

Tobin makes her way into the room, leaning down to steal a kiss too, the two women helping you to your feet.  

“How’s our kick boxer?” Tobin laughs and you groan.  

“She’s using my bladder as her kicking bag.” You grumble, your girlfriends giggling as they lead you to the bathroom.  

“You both know I can walk right.” You snort, the two of them sharing a glance.  

“Yes...” Christen mumbles.  

“BUT...” Tobin grins. “We just want our two girls to be safe.”  

You shake your head, the two women helping you into the bathroom before taking their leave.  

“We’ll be right outside the door.” Christen smiles and you chuckle.  

“Of course, you will.”  

                                                           ***

“You look like you’re about to pop!”  

You pick your head up, your bottom lip jutting out at the words Kelley had just said, the defender’s eyes widening as she flails her arms around.  

“No! No! I’m sorry, don’t cry.” She winces as your eyes fill with tears.  

“Now you’ve gone it.” Emily grumbles as she slips passed her, wrapping her arms around you.  

“Y/N... I’m so sorry.” Kelley hurries to the couch, wrapping her arms around you too.  

“I’M FAT.” You cry out, drawing the attention of Christen and Tobin, the two women joining in on the group hug.  

“You have our little girl growing inside you.” Tobin kisses the top of your head.

“You’re beautiful Y/N.” Christen kisses your temple. “Even more beautiful for carrying our baby inside you.”  

You look up at the two of them, bottom lip trembling.  

“Really?”  

They both nod.  

“Really. We love you.”  

Christen and Tobin pepper your face with kisses, Emily and Kelley watching with beaming smiles.  

“They’re going to be such a good family, aren’t they?” Emily whispers, and Kelley nods, beaming.  

“The best.”  

                                                           ***

You wiggle on the couch, grimacing.  

“What’s wrong love?” Tobin asks as she plops down beside you, immediately wrapping her arms around you as you lean against her.  

“Cravings.”  

Tobin hums.  

“What do you want? I can call Chris.” Tobin nuzzles into your hair and you shake your head, tears gathering in your eyes.  

“I’m just annoying.” You pout, Tobin quickly slipping off the couch to kneel down in front of you.  

“You are not love, your body is going through a lot.” She cups your face, ridding your cheeks of tears.  

You sniffle as you lean into her touch.  

“There’s a baby. OUR baby. Growing inside you, you are NOT being annoying love.”  

Tobin kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle, the woman peppering kisses all over your face until you’re unable to stop laughing.  

“Now, tell me what it is you want honey, so I can call Chris and tell her.”  

You hum.  

“Peanut Butter? Pickles? Ice cream?” Tobin guesses and you shake your head.  

“Wings.” You shrug, the look on your face telling Tobin you aren’t done.  

“Maybe some Lucky Charms and Ice Cream... Peanut Butter... Maybe Beef Jerky?”

Tobin laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.  

“Whatever you want babe, whatever you want.”  

                                                           ***

Christen and Tobin watch you with smiles, the women shaking their heads as you dip wings in vanilla ice cream, and peanut butter, snacking on it like it’s the best thing in the world before doing the same with the beef jerky.

Emily opens the front door, walking in as if she owns the place.  

“What in the ACTUAL fuck are you eating?”  

You wiggle happily in your seat, ignoring her as you chomp on a wing, covered in ice cream, peanut butter, and lucky charms.

Christen giggles as she watches her pregnant girlfriend eat the strange combination of food, a smile on your face as you inhale the beef jerky.

“She’s so cute.” Tobin whispers, eyes glazed over and Emily groans.

“Don’t be all lovey while I’m here, just had Chinese.”  

Emily misses it, but Christen and Tobin noticed the way your head snaps up at the mention of Chinese.  

Lindsey makes her way into the apartment, sticking her tongue out.

“Way to wait for me Sonn.”

“You were taking too long.”

You grin as Christen makes her way into the kitchen, coming back seconds later with a menu from a local Chinese take out.  

“How did you know?” You blush and Tobin grins.

“Your eyes lit up at the mention of Chinese.”  

You hum, taking the menu and eyeing it intently.  

“I’m absolutely starving.”

Emily’s eyes widen, the woman’s lips parting, no doubt to comment in the amount of food you’re eating but a deadly glare from Christen makes her mouth snap shut.

The blonde dives behind Lindsey, the woman snorting.

“She has murder in her eyes.”  

“Because Y/N is sensitive and you don’t think before you speak.”

“I know, it’s a problem.”

                                                           ***

You let out a growl, your girlfriends sitting up as you roll around between them.

“How the fuck am I supposed to sleep when I’m this fat?" You grumble eventually ending up on your left side, facing Tobin.

“Better?” She asks and you nod, curling your legs slightly.

You smirk when Tobin shuffles forward, her stomach resting against yours.

“Oof!” She grunts when she feels the baby kick, kicking so hard Tobin was able to feel it against her.

“Someone is going to be good at power shots.” She grins and you laugh.

“I mean she DOES have two of the best forwards in the world as mommies.”  

Christen snuggles into your back.

“Don’t forget one of the best mid-fielders.”  

You grin, tears welling up in your eyes.

“No tears.” Tobin whispers, gently swiping the tears from your cheeks as Christen snuggles closer, arms wrapped around you as she kisses the spot just behind your ear.

“I just love you guys so much.” You sniffle, the two women beaming as they pepper kisses all over you.

“We love you too.” Tobin grins, and Christen nods.

“So, so much.”

You don’t reply for a beat, the two women worrying slightly, but when a loud snore sounds from your parted lips they giggle both whispering.

“Night Y/N, we love you.”

You let out a sleepy mumble, voice slurring.

“Love you too.”

                                                           ***

“Oh, my FUCKING GOD.” You yell from the other room, and Tobin comes rushing in.  

“Chris said we need to stop swear-

Tobin freezes her brown orbs wide when she realizes what had happened.

“Did, y-y-your water just break?” She asks and you nod, your eyes bulging out of your head when they lock with hers.  

You let out a grimace, grabbing your stomach.  

“O-O-Okay. I...”  

“TOBIN!” You cry out in pain, the forward springing into action, albeit it stumbling as she does.  

“Come on, I’ve got you lets go.” Tobin takes your hand, helping you out of the house and to the car, grabbing the overnight bag she and Christen had prepared, the two of them double checking it every morning.  

Tobin’s phone rings the second she gets you in the car and you grimace, groaning loudly.  

Tobin starts the car and slams on the gas, zooming down the street as she answers her phone.  

“Hey Tobe what’s-

“SHE’S COMING.” She screams into the phone, cutting Kelley off, the defender turning to Emily and Christen who she was with.  

“THE BABY IS COMING.” The defender screeches, and Christen’s eyes widen, the woman sprinting out of the mall, Kelley and Emily a good few yards behind her, considering Christen literally ran like Usain Bolt.  

“We’re on our way!” Kelley yells, hearing a guttural howl from the background.  

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You scream and Kelley grimaces, holding the phone away from her ear and Emily snorts.  

“So much for not swearing.”  

                                                           ***

Tobin barely gets the car put in park, the woman stopping at the emergency room entrance and sprinting inside.  

“MY GIRLFRIEND IS HAVING A BABY.” She screams, a number of nurses following after her, wheelchair at the ready.  

They help you out of the car, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grimace, the pain becoming unbearable.  

“LINDSEY PARK THE CAR.” Tobin yells, throwing the keys at the blonde, the woman’s brows furrowing.  

“Who’s Lindsey? I’m not Linds-

“PARK THE CAR.”  

Tobin races inside, not even realizing she’d given her car keys to an absolute stranger.  

The woman is hot on your heels, piling in the room with the other nurses and your OBGYN.  

“Looks like someone is coming a little earlier than expected.” She smiles, noting the wide eyed terror on Tobin’s face.  

“Where’s Christ-

Suddenly, the door flies open to reveal a panting Christen Press, the woman’s cheeks flushed and covered in sweat.  

“TOBIN! CHRIS!” You yell, the two women rushing to stand beside you, their hands covering your own.  

“It’s alright, it’s going to be okay.” Tobin whispers, brushing a wisp of hair out of your face and you wince, the doctors working below the belt to get your legs up in the stirrups.  

You lean into Christen’s touch, the woman cupping your cheek.  

Tobin leans in, kissing your temple and you sigh, teeth gritting in pain.

“We’re about to meet our little girl.” Tobin whispers, tears swimming in her brown orbs, tears welling up in Christen’s green orbs when she realizes in fact that they were about to meet the little girl they’d all wanted for so long.  

You chuckle despite the pain, your tear-filled eyes darting from Christen to Tobin and back.  

“I can’t wait.”

                                                           ***

Christen slips an ice chip in your mouth while Tobin wipes the sweat from your forehead, the two women doting on you considering labor was taking a LOT longer than expected and you were absolutely exhausted.  

“You’re so close Y/N, can you try and give me one more big push?” The OBGYN asks and you grimace, taking a deep breath, Christen’s hand in yours and Tobin’s hand in the other giving you the strength you need to push as hard as you can.  

It’s then that the most beautiful sound in the world pierces your ears, the sound of your little girl’s first cry.  

Christen and Tobin pepper kisses all over your sweat covered face, the two grinning as the OB beckons them over, the little girl still wailing in her arms.  

“Who wants to cut the cord?” She asks, Tobin and Christen sharing a smile.  

“Together?” Christen asks and Tobin nods.  

“Always.”  

The two women hold the scissors, cutting the baby’s cord before she’s given to you, the baby snuggling into your bare chest.  

The little girl immediately goes quiet, as she cuddles against your chest.  

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hold the tiny body in your arms, the little girl you, Christen and Tobin had been waiting for, for so long was now in your arms.  

Christen and Tobin smile lovingly at the little girl, Christen’s finger running back and forth along her cheek while Tobin runs a gentle hand down her back, the little girl yawning in your arms.  

“She’s perfect.” You whisper, brushing the little girl’s bottom lip, the baby suckling on your tip of your finger.  

You’re in utter awe when the little girl’s eyes flutter open revealing your bright Y/E/C orbs to the three of your, tears gathering in your eyes as the baby looks up at your face curiously.  

“Hey sweetie.” You whisper, the babies eyes darting around your face as you lean down, kissing her forehead.  

“I’m your mommy and I love you so so much.”  

Christen and Tobin grin, tears in their eyes as you look up at them, nodding to the little girl in your arms.  

“Come meet your daughter.”  

                                                           ***

It’s a few hours later when Kelley, Emily and Lindsey make their way into the room, their eyes lighting up when they see you fast asleep in bed, the baby in Christen’s arms, also fast asleep.  

“Oh my god, she’s so precious.” Emily’s bottom lip trembles as she moves to look at the little girl, stroking her finger until the little girl takes her finger, the hazel orbed blonde sniffling softly.  

Kelley brushes some of your hair out of your face, smiling.  

“She’s exhausted.” Tobin whispers, smiling when you smile in your sleep, the forward turning towards Lindsey.  

“Do you have my keys?” She asks and Lindsey’s brows furrow.  

“What are you talking about?” She snorts and Tobin’s eyes widen.  

“I-I... I gave you my keys, didn’t I?” She asks and Lindsey shakes her head.  

“No... You didn’t I got here just after Sonnett and Kelley.”  

Tobin covers her face with her hands.  

“Holy fuck I gave someone my keys.”  

Christen’s green orbs widen.  

“You what!?” She whisper yells, the little girl in her arms waking with a cry.

You immediately sit up from a dead sleepy, eyes blinking rapidly.

Christen hands you the little girl who snuggles into your chest, going silent after a moment before the two of you fall back asleep.  

Christen and Tobin share a glance, the two women moving towards the bed, leaning down to kiss you on the head before kissing their daughter.  

“We love you both...”  

“So so much...”

Finally the thing they wanted for so long was currently fast asleep in your arms.

And they couldn't be happier.  

[seacottons]

Silent Song of the Sea

Yeosang’s lured and drowned many humans in the sea with his captivating voice. Fortunately, Wooyoung was deaf.

pairings: yeosang x wooyoung, san x reader

wc: 24k+

genre: siren!au, medieval times, royalty!au

warnings: supernatural beings, disabilities, language, blood, angst, gore, fluff, graphic violence, minor character death, domestic abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, implications of suicide, emotional trauma, mental health issues, unprotected sex, crazy reader(?), shiny yeosang

there was a problem with the html, so i had to reupload this. : (

You were twelve years of age when news broke out in your town of a boy who washed up on shore, along with a broken and tattered rescue boat. Chowing down on your breakfast in the dining hall amongst the other orphans, you overheard a few of the workers speaking about the young boy who spent days in the hospital, the town wondering where he came from. It was later that afternoon, when you were huddled with the rest of the other children in the yard that the director bought the young boy to introduce him to everyone. You struggled to peek from the taller children to catch a glimpse of the male, but you were shoved back slightly, the boys in front of you sneering, “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

Wooyoung was twelve years of age when he witnessed a young, tiny, frail child squabbling with a pair of boys. Gasps broke out within the group of children as a fist flew, followed by the crying of one of the young children. Wooyoung’s curious eyes never left your form as you were forcibly dragged inside by your ear, your fist smeared with the boy’s blood. You appeared to be shouting and stomping your feet in retaliation as you were dragged into the housing facility.

It was later that week when you were walking down the hall back to the children’s living space, when you noticed a group of four children surrounding the new kid, who huddled against the wall, beads of tears pooling in his eyes. “Why don’t you talk!” the tallest of the bunch growls in frustration, “You’re no fun at all!”

“Maybe he’s just stupid?” another girl quips, flicking her forefinger against Wooyoung’s forehead, sending the four into a pit of laughter and teasing. A wet squelch broke the train of laughter, and Wooyoung’s jaw dropped at the sight of the opened closet, brooms scattered onto the tiled floor, and you thrusting the wet, dripping mop into one of the children’s faces. Chaos ensued; a squeal of protest from one of the girls, loud footsteps, and bickering filled your ears. “(Y/n)! What do you think you’re doing!?” a worker tugged the mop out of your grasp, tugging you up with an arm securely fastened onto your tummy. You twisted in her hold, palms jutting out against her jaw in protest as you struggled to escape her grip.

“They were bullying Wooyoung!” you cried, and the four kids could only cower and deny your claims, their eyes flashing with fear, “Yes, you were! He’s crying! You said he was stupid!”

The worker stilled, and her eyes narrowed at the four children. A sigh escaped her as she settled you down, a stern expression painting her features, “For once, I think I’ll let you go. As for you four, to the director’s office. Now.” 

You laughed smugly at the sight of the four trudging begrudgingly behind the woman, and you gasped in realization when you remembered the young boy. When your head snapped in his direction, he flinched, eyes wary and hands hurriedly reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y’know, you should really learn how to fight back,” you started, “They deserve a broken tooth or two.” He stared back at you, eyes flickering nervously as he fidgeted in place. You frowned, trying again, “Are you scared of them?  I mean, Minjae is ugly— I would be scared of him too.” The boy’s gaze  mirrored that of the gaping fish that stared at you from their tank in the director’s office. 

You quirked a brow, arms crossing in front of your chest, “Okay. You don’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. Just say my name, and I’ll be there. I’m (y/n).” Wooyoung’s hesitant hands reached up point two fingers at you, and he shook his head while cupping his hands around the shells of his ears. Suddenly, you understood, face leaning uncomfortably close to his as your jaw dropped, “You can’t hear me!?” You understood when his hands made a motion, your brows raising up in curiosity, “Oh, you use sign language? I don’t really know that. I can draw for you, though. Come on, I’ll show you!”

You were permitted to walk around town for a few hours every day before dinner, and the first place you wanted to visit was the library, much to Wooyoung’s confusion, “My friend, San, owns this library! I mean- his mom, but I’m pretty sure they have a sign language book here we can borrow! San taught me how to write and read, y’know. Maybe we can find a book on how to find your memories too! Oh- wait.. I forgot, sorry. You can’t hear me,” You attempted to use hand signals to display your words, but Wooyoung only chuckled at your failed attempt. You swiftly pulled out your tattered sketchbook, and after a few messy, stick figure drawings, he nodded in acknowledgment. You were met with the sight of San helping his mother place a few books in the high shelves of the library, you bellowed out his name loudly, startling both him and his mother. The woman only giggled underneath her breath whilst her son was quick to shush you with a stern glare, “(Y/n)! You’re in a library!” His gaze suddenly drifted the boy behind you, who wore a similar outfit to your own, freezing immediately and grumbling lowly, “Why are you with one of the orphan boys? I thought you said they’re all gross?” His mother scolded him quietly for the choice of his words, and sent her a pout in return, “Stop embarrassing me in front of my friend!”

You quickly explained to both of them Wooyoung’s lack of memories and situation, and and how you insisted on learning sign language to communicate with him, not noticing San’s eyes narrowing in on the nervous lavender haired boy. San’s mother nodded, smiling and reaching over to ruffle your hair. You caught a glimpse of purple and blue marks underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she told you to wait while she searched for the books you needed. A faint speck of purple was also seen on San’s tummy as he reached up to gently push a book back in place.

“We’re not partners in crime anymore if you’re going to replace me,” San grumbled, fingers idly tracing the spines of the books to his right. “He’s not replacing you, dummy,” you cried defensively, tugging Wooyoung by the wrist and startling him, “He’s going to join us. We can even let him in on our secret.”

San’s eyes rounded comically, before they narrowed, finger jutting out in accusation, “You wouldn’t. We agreed it’ll just be us two taking over the world.” “But he probably wants to go on adventures too,” you offered, “Please? We’ll be like the three muskrats!”

“I’m not letting anyone join our pirate club, no,” he crossed his arms, voice firm and head tilting to the side in protest, “And it’s musketeers, not muskrats, you bum.”

San’s mother returned with a stack of books for you, explaining everything you needed to know. She tugged on your cheek, laughing brightly at the sound of your protest as you shyly swatted it away, “It’s very mature and thoughtful of you for doing this, (y/n). You can come here every day to practice with San. He’ll make time to learn with you.”

“Learn? I never agreed to have extra lessons!” It was later that week that the town of Aurora held a coming-of-age ceremony for the young prince on a Friday night. He was a few years older than you, and you’ve caught glimpses of him every so often when you hung out with San in town. 

Wooyoung, San, and you dressed appropriately, with your town’s traditional garbs. Mrs. Choi, bless her soul, took the three of you shopping beforehand, explaining how today was a very important day for the town and the royal family. San appeared miffed at his slicked back hair, and Wooyoung appeared to enjoy to the texture of the garments as his hands wouldn’t stop rubbing the silky, colorful material, fingers tracing the numerous embroidered floral patterns on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Mrs. Choi left the three of you to walk about, only if you promised you wouldn’t get into trouble. With a bag of silver coins, you three tromped between the crowds, visiting different booths to ogle at the treats displayed. The town was illuminated with an array of colorful lights hung from building to building. Signs and images of the young prince were displayed on every wall, pole, and building. As you munched on your roasted corn, guards of the royal family barked at the crowd to make space for the carriages and other matching guards to pass through. San tugged your sleeve and pointed to the golden palanquin held by four, large guards, the maroon velvet curtains tied to the corners, exposing the young boy sitting peacefully inside. He smiled at the crowd, turning left and right to wave as the guards marched in between the two parallel lines of people.

Whilst San was attempting to remember the hand signs to explain to Wooyoung was happening, you squinted, standing up on your tip-toes to have a better look at the prince. You clambered up on a wooden box, smiling in satisfaction at the better view, before peeking down at the two boys, “Why is the prince wearing such an ugly coat? It looks weird.”

“Watch your mouth, kid.” “That coat is the skin of a siren. It is a symbol of honor and bravery, brat.”

San paled at the harsh words, glancing nervously at the glares of the nearby townspeople, before swatting at your calf with a harsh whisper, “Moron, you can’t say things like that about the royals in public! That coat is tradition for the royal family!” Rolling your eyes at his exasperated tone, you offered a hand to Wooyoung, motioning him to stand with you to get a better view of the all the action. San attempted to follow suit, huffing in anger when he found no space for him to stand. Reaching for the pole beside him, he swiftly shimmied himself up, silently thanking the swordsmanship classes he was forced to partake in.

The prince’s eyes examined almost every face in the crowd. He met yours, and despite hating his attire, you couldn’t help but blush at the piercing gaze. You could’ve sworn his eyes widened at the boy beside you, but you didn’t have time to ponder as Wooyoung signed for you that he was hungry. You paused, eyes squinting in thought, before recognition flashed in your mind.

You nodded, pointing to his belly, to which he nodded in agreement. You dragged a reluctant San and a happy Wooyoung through the crowd, unaware of a pair of eyes lingering on your three forms.

Two months later, San began finally warming up to Wooyoung, much to your pleasure. To finally welcome the newest addition to your ‘Pirate Adventure Club’, he presented three twine bracelets, all with one cowrie shell intertwined in the middle,”Pirates give these to their friends, so they’ll never be apart no matter what.” “I don’t remember that in the pirate guidebook,” you mumbled, blinking at the boy.

“I made it up,” he grumbled bashfully, helping Wooyoung tie the twine on his wrist, “Don’t tell Wooyoung I said that, or else he won’t think I’m cool anymore.”

At fifteen years of age, both San and yourself became proficient at sign language, so much so that sometimes you would often find yourself teasing him with foul signs rather than doing so verbally. He would shove you away, red ears and furrowed brows as Wooyoung laughed beside him, “Stop polluting Wooyoung’s head with that nonsense!”

The three of you became infamous in town. The Troublesome Trio.

When San first informed you about the given title, you cackled, asking who in their right mind came up with that ridiculous name. He shrugged as the three of you walked within the town’s square, Wooyoung quietly observing the pigeons huddled near the center fountain, “You're the one who always picks fights, and Wooyoung and I have to always save your ass, so maybe that’s why.”

San insisted on paying a visit to one of the small antique shops in town, promising to find rare trinkets owned by pirates that washed up on Aurora’s shores. The town was still bustling even in the evening, young kids chasing each other around the neighborhood alleys, vendors charming passersby with their pristinely washed produce, mountains of different colored spices, dry fruits and nuts. Other merchants were determined to attract arrays of customers by displaying the colorful, locally caught fish, eel, and crustaceans on beds of ice. Cats sat idle in every corner, their big eyes fixated on the fresh fish.

 Dry herbs hung from many of the tea shops, and vibrant fabrics blew gently with the soft breeze from the textile shops. A young man carried around baskets of fresh bottled milk, whilst another prepared slabs of butter and goat cheese for the market-goers, charming the people past with his smiles and beautiful notes, the seagulls crying overhead joining in the melody.

“Hey, guys. Look! Isn’t that Pipsqueak and Stupid?”

You furrowed your brows, lips pursing in an attempt to bottle your anger. You knew that obnoxious voice anywhere, and it was a surprise that a boy with a disgusting attitude like him found a home with a willing family. You hoped it was the last you would see him three years ago, but there he was, sitting on a barrel, legs spread and a cocky smirk on his face as he pointed to you, along with two others you recognized from the orphanage. You can tell from the way San’s shoulders stiffened that he intact did hear, eyes still glued ahead of him as he led the way to the merchant’s shop. “Hey! Is your boyfriend still too stupid to attend school?” Sometimes, you were grateful that Wooyoung was deaf, because you knew words like that would crush him. Despite lacking the sense of hearing, he picked up on skills much faster than San and yourself combined. San’s mother helped you learn math, and you quickly learned to hate it. Wooyoung, however excelled at such a pace that it left even San’s mother surprised. San also taught him techniques he learned during his swordsmanship classes, and now, not only were the two taller than you, but broader as well.

“I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” A rock pelted against Wooyoung’s neck, startling him. San’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. Your eyes burned with disbelief at the sight of the smirking boy, who proudly adjusted his school uniform’s tie, silently bragging about how privileged he became after being adopted by one of the wealthier families in town.

Your hands grasped one of the thin wooden sticks of the fruit stalls beside you, the owner barking at you in protest, stuck behind the stand dealing with a few confused customers. San’s hands flew to grasp your elbow, a concerned Wooyoung gazing at you from behind him in confusion, “(Y/n)! Don't! He’s not worth it!” he insisted.

“Let me,” you spat, tugging your arm away and stomping towards the taller male, “I’ll stake him like the squealing pig he is.”

The three boys hunched over in laughter at your empty threat, nudging each other and surrounding you threateningly. Minjae threw his backpack to the side, hands reaching up to crack his knuckles, “I don’t hit kids, but since all you are is an angry demon no one wants, I don’t think anyone will mind me giving you a bruise or two. Maybe I should knock Stupid’s head too. He’ll probably start hearing afterwards, yeah?”

San protested, yelling out your name and sprinting to defend you, but before he was halfway across the cobblestone path, you threw the wooden stake aside, relying on your hands to pulverize the taller male in front of you. He tugged at your hair as you tackled him down, hands tugging at his tie, and aiming a punch at his nose, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your wrestling forms. The two of you rolled repeatedly on the cobblestones, feet kicking and fists flying, “You piece of shit, how dare you say those things about Wooyoung! I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the seagulls!”

Vendors and customers paused to watch the squabble, kids pointing and ushering their parents to see the commotion. You shoved Minjae onto one of the glass doors of a shop, the raised threshold clipping his ankle, leading to fall backwards into the glass. He growled, head snapping up to meet the eyes of his two friends, “Stop staring and help me out, cowards!”

Their faces grew pale at the sight behind the cracked glass doors, and after sharing a look, they nodded and hastily retreated. A look of disbelief washed over Minjae’s face, and your snicker only boiled his anger even further. With a growl, he tackled you down harshly onto the floor, your eyes widening at the sudden lunge. You didn’t even care at the taste of blood on your busted lip as you struck him in between the legs, eyes furious as you shoved him off, hands reaching up to wipe at your mouth,“Can’t handle a pipsqueak by yoursel—”

“What’s going on here?” Your eyes flickered to well polished shoes behind Minjae’s figure, traveling up to meet the eyes of the prince, crown shining in display, golden coat and pristine white leather sparkling underneath the golden hours of the evening. His face grew even more handsome since the last you’ve seen him, jaw becoming sharper, and eyes more mature. Behind him stood a taller male, hair as striking and vibrant as the crushed geranium flowers Mrs. Choi uses as rouge, “The Commander won’t be happy to hear about this, will he, Minjae?”

Minjae’s eyes widened in recognition, scrambling up to grab at his fallen backpack, his form tripping as he scurried off in fear. You stared at the gloved hand offered to you, and you gladly accepted it, the older male pulling you up onto your feet, “Ah, aren’t you that trio..”

His eyes trailed from your small stature to San and Wooyoung, his brown eyes lingering on the latter a bit longer. You dusted your attire, snorting at the sight of your panic stricken friends, “Yep. Just getting rid of rats on your streets, Hongjoong,” while not personally knowing the member of the royal family, you found comfort in the fact he wasn’t that much older than you and your friends. Surely, he’s just like other kids beneath the silk, leather, golden garments and dazzling jewelry.

The red-haired bodyguard, who didn’t seem that much older than you and your friends, glowered with piercing eyes at your smaller frame, disbelief clouding his eyes at the insolent behavior. 

San slapped his forehead, exasperation lacing his voice as he shouted in your ear, “He’s royalty! You can’t just call Prince Hongjoong by his name, (y/n)-”

Hongjoong lifted a palm, shaking his head, a gentle smile gracing his features, “That is quite alright. I don’t mind. Mingi here calls me Hongjoong, as well. It makes me feel.. ah, young, perhaps? Right, Mingi?” he swiveled his head slightly to eye the stoic guard.

“You’re not even that old, though,” you began, earning you a glare from both San and the prince’s bodyguard at your informal tone. Wooyoung awkwardly held onto your fallen hat, eyes trained on the prince’s mouth in order to attempt to read his lips.

“Ah, yes. You are correct,” Hongjoong simpered, white hair delicately styled and falling into his eyes as he spoke, “but when you have princely duties, it makes you forget that you are still so young.”

There was a hint of sorrow in his voice that you detected, one so subtle and faint like the salty smell of the ocean encasing your town. The smile he wore didn’t exactly reach his eyes, his lips stretching too wide for it to be out of genuine content. Your bloody lips parted, eyes wide as you spoke, softly this time, “You’re still a kid before you’re a prince. You should live a little and have fun every once in a while.”

He offered you a white handkerchief at the glimpse of blood dribbling down your chin, chuckling at the sight of your stunned and flushed expression at the sweet gesture, “You have a point, but maybe I will attempt something other than fighting.. rats in the street.”

His smile sent your face and neck flushing in embarrassment, and you were quick to wave him goodbye as he was pulled away by a few of his guards. Watching the carriage disappear, you failed to notice San glowering at you beside you as you ogled at the disappearing horses, “(Y/n), you can’t just keep picking fights like that. Must you always seek trouble?”

“He asked for it.”

‘(Y/n) is a bad influence. Don’t get any ideas, please,’ He signed to an amused looking Wooyoung.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.

Your brows furrowed, watching the two exchange words silently, your arms crossing in annoyance.

‘Assholes.’

“(Y/n)!”

— At seventeen, the three of you came to conclusion just how cruel and dangerous the beings that lurked in the sea were. San had a rough night with his father again, and with his mother’s insistence, he joined you both to the beach to clear his mind of the suffocating negativity that filled his household. 

A large, canvas umbrella shielded the three of you from the blazing sun. Even from here, the sound of the town’s clock tower chiming, signaling noon, can be heard. San’s head rested on your lap, his straw hat covering his face as he dozed off to your fingers gently running through his dark locks. He was exhausted after hours of swimming and playing volleyball with other kids your age. Sand coated the skin between his toes and a small baby seagull occasionally circled around his legs, curiously eyeing the bag of chips you were sharing with Wooyoung.  

The other male sat to your right, attempting to sketch the shore and moss covered rocks that broke the waves’ paths. He absentmindedly sipped on a bottle of juice, brows furrowed in determined concentration, his back littered with specks of sand from being buried up to his neck by San.

Peering up from his half completed sketch, his eyes were drawn onto the tiny boats and hardy people paddle boarding yards away from shore, despite the occasional gusts of wind. The waves crashed loudly into the clusters of rocks, foam spraying high in the air with every roar of water. The blue waters of the ocean were so clear that often times children would run around chasing the languid fish that found themselves swimming past their feet near the shore. Pebbles and other tiny marine life can be spotted on the sandy bed, the webs of sunlight dancing on the surface. 

A sudden flash of a purple fin stopped him in his tracks, his eyes squinting to make out the form. Another turquoise tail fin breeched the surface, but just as quickly dove back into the water. The two paddle boarders paused, glancing curiously at the two heads that rose from the water. 

Wooyoung watched in confusion as the men dropped their paddles, jaws slackening and frames growing stiff, as if in a deep trance. It happened too fast for his mind to register clearly, but one second the men are standing on their boards, and the next they’re both diving in hastily. His eyes rounded, fingers losing their grip on his bottle, the pomegranate juice spilling onto his sketch, startling you. Before you asked, your head snapped to the direction of his gaze, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Is that a siren?” you heard out in the distance.

A blonde haired creature’s mouth suddenly clamped down onto the screaming man’s neck, angular teeth piercing the skin and severing veins and muscle as he threw his head back roughly, red flesh intact in his mouth. Red liquid glugs from the victim’s lips and the severed carotid, pumping red into the ocean. 

The screams were so shrill you swore they could curdle blood.

Claws pierce the man’s eye-sockets rupturing the globes with a sickening pop, the left eye dangling only by the stubborn, red optical nerve, leaving behind a bloody and empty pit. The siren’s unforgiving lashes met the victim’s face, sharp and jagged nails tearing the man’s visage and shredding his jaw.

Moments later, the creature dives into the water, turquoise tail flashing just before its disappearance. The corpse is suddenly tugged down with such intensity that the red seawater swashes roughly with a loud plop, sea foam being the only indication of movement. Feet away, his friend is met with the same fate. 

The tails breached the surface near a sailboat, the people in it suddenly halting their movements while listening to the sirens’ voices. Wooyoung didn’t need to hear the screams of the people swimming nearby. The wave of fear washing over everyone present at the beach was enough indication.

He gaped in horror, his eyes watching as the beach goers pulled frightened children out of the water, others frantically grabbing their belongings and rushing in hoards for safety, clouds of sand left in their wake. Sandpipers and seagulls flew amongst the crazed crowd, disturbed at the sudden chaos around them. 

San suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a loud siren ringing from one of the pop shacks at the beach. He sat up in surprise, hat falling into his lap, and hand clutching his chest in surprise.

“What happened!?”

That night, the King sent guards around town to announce the banishment of swimming and other ocean sports, threatening anyone who broke the law to be executed by enforced drowning. A team was sent to the beach to pick up the torn flesh and limbs of the victims that washed up on shore. It was a horrid sight, the stench of death prominent and wafting through even the smallest crevice of the town. 

The three of you paid a visit to the vigil honoring the five people killed that day, the images of the brutal deaths haunting both Wooyoung and yourself in your sleep. The two of you joined each other on the lower bunk, arms coiled around each other for a source of comfort no one else could provide you with. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bustling town was replaced with an eerily quiet one- one that was stained with an ugly shade of fear and melancholy. — You were eighteen years of age when were moved out from the orphanage to a facility that housed other orphans, agreeing to partake in labor to help provide for both yourself and the establishment. Wooyoung soon joined you, and as much as you wanted for him to be with a family of his own, you were still happy he stuck around with you. He felt like family. 

The two of you landed jobs aiding fishermen catch and deliver the locally caught fish to merchants and markets. You rolled the sleeves of poofy tunic up, fastened the tied cloth around your waist and winced at the sudden gust of wind that blew your wide-brimmed hat off your head in an instant. 

It was a typical day on the fishing trawler. You were miles away from the coast, Wooyoung and yourself aiding the fishermen haul fish into different compartments, picking out the other creatures that were caught along with the school of fish. A storm battered the ship, but not enough for the helmsman to steer the ship back to port, despite the crew’s growing concern. 

Wooyoung grasped your elbow as you slipped onto the deck, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. You thanked him with a nod of acknowledgment, hand shakily grasping the railing, brown boots sliding with every sway of the boat. He pointed to the hatch, hoping you’ll understand his implications without the use of hand signs. He was clearly fed up with the lack of concern from the fishermen, urging you with his eyes to crawl inside for safety. 

You opened your mouth to word out a reply, when a sudden jerk to the left caused you both to lose your grip. Wooyoung’s hands stabilized himself against the deck, his face scrunched in pain at the impact of his fall, watching in horror as the vessel tilted dangerously, a wave impelling the sides and sweeping you away with it. His hand flew to grasp your foot, only managing to graze the bottom of your boot in the process.

He was quick on his feet to inform the closest person about you falling overboard. His hands desperately clutched the orange lifebuoy, throwing it to where he spotted your head bobbing within the harsh waves. 

You met his gaze, hands reaching to grab the ring, when you felt a clawed hand grasp your ankle. In the time it took you to knit your brows in confusion at the sensation, you suddenly gasped in realization, earning you only a few more milliseconds of air before you were swiftly plunged down into the raging ocean. You were welcomed with the deafening roar of your heartbeat in your ears and the burning sensation in your sinuses. Beams of sunlight occasionally shined within the raging waters before they disappeared behind the dark plumes of clouds.

You hadn’t properly prepared to take a deep breath, your mouth parting open in shock at the sight of a beautiful, black haired man. Your stunned eyes were suddenly drawn to his puckering gills and outstretched smile, showcasing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The purple fins on his neck and forearms shimmered with every flap and movement. 

He appeared to laugh as he teasingly swam around your frame, circling and eyeing you like prey. The delighted smile on his visage stretched wide, resembling the evil creatures drawn in the folklore books you read as a child. His iridescent, violet tail and fins tickled the skin of your neck, and your lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, the subtle sounds of waves crashing joining in with the loud drumming of your pulse.

“My, my,” he chuckled, dark hues locked on your panic stricken face, “I didn’t even have to sing to get you to come to me, little human.”

The two of you were suspended in a neutral state of buoyancy, clouds of marine life occasionally passing by. Your blood ran so cold that it felt more like being electrocuted than anything else. You had to get yourself out immediately, before the lack of oxygen kills you or before the siren rips you apart like ribbons.

One second he was eyeing you curiously, and the next you struggled to escape his hold, teeth snapping and threatening to bite your neck open, your frames swaying with the waves’ thrusts, even from below the surface. Your mind had no time to keep up with your body’s involuntary actions, your fingers digging harshly into the gaps of his gills and clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. 

Your movements weren’t as clean and swift as they would’ve been on land, but your frenzied mind paid no thought. He winced at the onslaught of scratches, pulling away to clutch at his neck in pain, giving you the briefest amount of time to swim up, your arms securely wrapping around the ring and shouting up with a desperate cry. Waves rocked your frame, the water sloshing harshly around you, and hope slowly trickled in as you felt the line tug upwards to safety.

 As soon as your legs surfaced the water, the same hand breached past the waves, long nails digging into the skin of your calf, before getting caught in the buckles of your brown boot, slipping it off with ease as the siren fell back into the water. Beady eyes glowered at you as you were hoisted up the ship.

Arms were wrapped around your frame as soon as you landed in a wet, bloody heap on deck, Wooyoung’s concerned face invading your vision. His eyes flew from your leg to your bleeding, bitten hand, and finally your face. From the raindrops pattering his skin you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He held you so tightly against his frame, fingers coiling into your wet locks, his chest heaving heavily in panic. Your widened eyes could only stare straight ahead, arms weakly tangling around his form.

Four years later and you were left with lumpy, jagged scars on your left leg and hand. There was no action taken against the fishermen that you worked for, though. You didn’t have the money or means to do anything, so Wooyoung and you decided it was best to change the tasks you were meant to complete. Delivering fish from the ports to the markets instead of helping the fishermen at sea was a much better and safer option.

The two of you fell into the same boring routine. You heard mockeries under people’s breaths regarding the two of you- how nobody wanted to adopt you due to your troublesome behavior, and Wooyoung due to the fact that he was deaf. You wanted to beat the nonsense out of the people who spoke ill of you, but you knew in doing so it would prove their point. Over the years, you have calmed down, though. Only slightly.

Grumbling to yourself, you trudged up the narrow cobblestone path, Wooyoung by your side. The two of you carried nets of freshly caught fish, ready to be displayed at the fish market. The streets were mostly empty, the orange rays of the sun filtering out the darkness as it ever so slowly broke past the horizon, golden beams shining onto the numerous white and seaglass-blue buildings. You passed the formal gardens, your eyes glued to the plumes of vibrant colors showcased behind the copper gates, wondering what it would feel like to have a picnic with your friends there. San will love it, his love for flowers inherited from his mother.

‘I’m going to smell like fish all day,’ You signed to Wooyoung, your posture and facial expression giving away your feelings even beforehand.  

His biceps flexed as he adjusted the bags in his grip, unable to reply back as his hands were full. His sleeveless shirt displayed his toned, tanned arms, leather pants fitting quite nicely on his form. You knew he was teasing you as he took larger and quicker strides, leaving you behind. You waddled your way after him, your protests quite literally falling on deaf ears. 

You traded the fish for a sachet of silver coins, making sure to count the amount before your departure from the seafood market. On your way back to the docks, you stopped to grab a loaf of freshly baked bread and tea, offering the taller male walking with you. Elderly women can be spotted hunching down to tend to their rice fields, wide brimmed hats shielding them from the rising sun.

 Children began walking down the streets, dressed in the typical blue and white school uniform. You occasionally wished that Wooyoung and yourself grew up with those privileges- only worrying about upcoming tests and what meal you’ll devour after coming back from school. Despite the tiring labor, Wooyoung and yourself at least had each other’s company to enjoy, and you were grateful to have him by your side every second.

Overall, the waters were quite safe since that incident that occurred five years ago. The fishermen treated you both very well, always slapping at Wooyoung’s broadened shoulders and biceps playfully. They often teased you about being in a relationship, but quickly learned the sibling dynamic between the two of you. Wooyoung’s nose always scrunched in distaste at the memory.  

It was noon and the two of you finally finished your daily fish delivery trips. You decided to pay San a visit at his family’s library, his nose immediately scrunching up while he greeted you at the front desk. 

‘Would it kill you two to go shower before you visit?‘ he signed in annoyance, fingers then clamping around his mouth and nose.

You attempted to hug him, and he hastily backed away in his seat, a book smacking you in the arm in retaliation, a strangled sound emitting from the back of his throat, “Stop, (y/n)!” 

“But I missed you, Sannie,” you frowned, pulling Wooyoung forward by the elbow, ‘Wooyoung wants a hug too.’

‘You won’t die if I don’t hug you,’ San shook his head, propping the frames on his nose a bit higher, giving you two a pointed look.

‘Yes we will,’ Wooyoung protested, a pout finding itself onto his features, earning him a glare from San as you cackled,’Are you ready for the competition later?’

‘More than ever. Too bad the brat can’t attend,’ Wooyoung snorted at the response, hastily covering his mouth as you gave him a swift, sharp look. It was no surprise that Wooyoung used his hard earned silver coins to enlist in San’s swordsmanship school, much to the other’s delight. Tonight was the end of the season’s competition, but to your dismay, you had errands to complete before the prince’s coronation tomorrow.

San was peeved at the idea of you not attending, but Wooyoung clearly saw the irritation being directed at the fact that you couldn’t attend because of the prince and not due to the errands you were forced to complete. He rolled his eyes whilst gazing at your mouths moving rapidly in a display of ongoing bickering. The two of you were so oblivious to each other, Wooyoung found it gross. Endearing, but gross.

Later that night, Wooyoung returned home to the housing facility, his nose scrunching up in delight as he proudly displayed his second place trophy in the air. Throwing your arms around his neck and shaking his frame excitedly, you laughed as he stumbled back from the sudden attack. 

‘I’m so, so proud of you!’

A smile found itself resting on his features as he tugged you close to return the gesture. 

He was beyond grateful to have someone that felt like family.

Wooyoung rubbed the small amount of rose water in his hands and brushed his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tussle. He adjusted the clips holding your hair in place, before eyeing your reflection in the mirror, throwing a thumbs up and proceeding to pinch your cheeks. Swatting his hands away in protest, you turned to examine yourself at a different angle,’Do you think purple suits me?’

‘Of course. Every color suits you.’

‘But do you think I look good in purple? Should I wear the blue one instead?’

‘I’m pretty sure San will love it. Two of his favorite-’

You furiously signed that you did not even bring San’s name into the conversation, and Wooyoung snickered at your flustered reaction. You hated how well he read you- how easily he read every feeling you attempted to bury and conceal. 

And you hated the fact that you had no confidence to confess your feelings in the first place.

The night of Prince Hongjoong’s coronation was much like the night of his coming-of-age celebration, only now Wooyoung and you were older— and being older meant partying harder.

Wooyoung watched you stumble into a pole, snickering and tugging you towards himself to stabilize your tipsy form. San shook his head as he walked back towards you with three sticks of fried pastry, his lips parting to scold you, “You're lightweight! You shouldn’t have drank so much, (y/n).”

Wooyoung has spent a good amount of time with the both of you, and after years of friendship, he often picked up on reading your lips as you two argued. He rubbed your shoulders in silent understanding, knowing fully well you downed that liquor in hopes of gaining confidence to actually look San in the eye and not have to deal with flushed ears and bickering to conceal your feelings. San in traditional garments was your utter weakness.

It had the opposite effect, really. You complained about his voice being too loud, and how the lights were too bright around you— how the smells of the street food were too strong. Wooyoung offered you a bottle of water, forcing you to down it all in one go in order to clear your mind a bit. He gave San a knowing smile as he watched from the sidelines, adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the sight of streaks of water cascading down from the corners of your lips and onto your neck, your clavicles glistening underneath all of the oil lamps illuminating the streets. Once catching the lavender haired male’s smirking gaze, the other silently scrunched his face in embarrassment, swiftly turning away to eye the closest confectionery shop.

Underneath the star-filled sky, the townspeople chatted amongst each other, many of them drunk and attempting to form dance circles in the town square. Many musicians filled the streets, the sweet and joyous melodies dancing in between every corner and alley of Aurora. A few women danced with delicate and sensual sways of their hips to the beats of darbuka drums and oud notes, hungry eyes watching their every move. The scent of tobacco and alcohol filled the air. An hour later, you felt better, mind clearing slightly. 

The smell of fresh pastries and milk custards wafted through the air, as you shared a large piece of cinnamon cake between the other two boys. Wooyoung stood up, informing you that he needed to buy water and possibly use the restroom. 

It was only when you were left alone with San, you suddenly felt like a small and helpless bug without Wooyoung’s presence and emotional support. You can face San on normal days, but when he’s dressed like this, hair slicked back, and the back of his ears and wrists shining with sandalwood oil-based perfume, your confidence crumbled into a mere speck of dust.

“You look pretty,” he started, voice quiet as his kohl lined eyes fixate on the cake between the two of you, “Purple suits you, you know?”

You scrambled to find a coherent reply, mind too frazzled at the sudden bold comment from the man across from you,. You needed to be casual, natural- needed to say something that won’t scare him off, or make you sound too desperate.

“You look hot when you spar.”

His eyes widened in surprise at your confession, jaw dropping in disbelief, cinnamon frosting and cake crumbs coating his cupid’s bow, and you suddenly wished you drank more of that nasty rum earlier.

Half an hour passed as the two of you awkwardly exchanged hints and implications of your feelings, when suddenly your brows furrowed, your frame rising up from your seat at the wooden table, “Okay, now I know for a fact that he’s lost. It’s been too long-”

“But he knows his way through town, (y/n). Besides, this is his favorite bakery— no way he’ll get lost,” San reassured, finger flicking the strand of hair that fell into his gaze. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hand running through your hair as you took a few steps away from the table, calling out back to him, “You stay here in case he comes back. I’ll go look for him, okay?”

After a nod of approval, you sauntered off among the sea of crowds searching for a mop of purple hair. You grew tired after half an hour of searching, even returning back to San in hopes that Wooyoung found his way back. When he saw dread fill your eyes at absence of the male, he stood up, cupping your your panic stricken face and telling you to calm down.

“You check the south, and I’ll check north, got it? We’ll meet at the same spot after half an hour,” he squeezed your shoulder and offered a small smile, “He’ll be okay. He’s Warrior Wooyoung after all. I trained him well.”

Fifteen minutes ticked by and you attempted to push down the heavy and negative thoughts invading your mind. This was not like back in the orphanage. Wooyoung was not the little, scared, helpless little boy. He was strong, brave, and—

You walked straight into a firm chest, hands reaching up to stabilize you as you stumbled back on your feet, head snapping up to apologize, “Ah, Pipsqueak. You’ve grown quite nicely since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, you hand immediately reaching up to swat at his arms, only for him to pull back defensively. Oh, how you hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. The gods must have loved Wooyoung for not granting him the sense of hearing, because you knew Minjae’s voice was disgusting enough to make anyone’s ear’s bleed. 

“Whoa- whoa! So hot-headed, still?” He laughed, eyes tracing every curve of your frame as he took a few steps back,”I see you’ve only psychically changed. But here,” he tapped his temple, broad shoulders on full display as he crossed arms,”You're still the same kid who was all bark and no bite.”

“I punched you, and you cried like a baby in front of the entire orphanage,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

The amusement in his eyes drifted away like the clouds blanketing the bright, full moon. You hated to admit it, but now that he was much, much taller than you, broader than you, and clearly stronger than you, it made you just a tiny bit anxious. You had no doubt that he’ll be able to manhandle you with just one hand, easily taking you down. A sneer met his features, “Ah, the day your idiot of a boyfriend was introduced to us, right? I heard you were also locked in the director’s closet as punishment.”

“Say that again, I dare you,” you spat back, mirroring his own sneer. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back slightly against the wall beside him, as a snort of amusement escapes his  throat, “Why? Don’t like when I talk about him? Can’t believe Stupid grew up to beat me in second place,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully, “It’ll be the last time, though. I can guarantee you that, love.”

Silence struck between the two of you.

You stared at his cocky smirk, his last words reverberating in your mind. His smile only broadened at the sight of horror and realization washing over your features. Suddenly, he found himself jerked down by the collar of his traditional garb, your hands itching to clobber that smile off his chiseled visage, “What did you do to him! Where is he!?”

He laughed at your attempt to intimidate him, gently prying your fists off of him as he patted the crown of your head in mock affection, “Don’t know. Maybe he’s partying, maybe he’s with San, or maybe..” he straightened his back, lips pursing whilst tapping his temple in thought, “..he’s being eaten alive by the sirens. Your guess, Sweetheart.”

You didn’t even realize you were already tripping on your feet to reach the docks in the southern part of town, Minjae’s amused laughter ringing behind you, your heart hammering in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. You pushed past drunkards, guards, adults, and hell- even children without a second glance or care in the world. There was no time to find San, the tears in your eyes flying into the air like tiny pearls as you flung yourself corner after corner between the blue and white buildings in a rush to reach the shore.

You will never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him alive. — Wooyoung was angered at his predicament. He should have known it was a trap, but he had a big heart, deciding to push his suspicions away when a lady asked him for help regarding her puppy at the beach. Well, at least that’s what he assumed when she pulled out a picture of a dog, pointing in the general direction of the harbor.

As soon as his suspicions surfaced, it was too late. She turned around so quickly, he had no time to react when she swung her heavy, straw bag onto his head, stumbling back and shielding his face. He was then ambushed by a group of men, who then proceeded to not only tie his wrists and ankles together, but also shove him in one of the smaller docked boats, working quickly to untie the thick ropes attaching it to the dock, allowing it to drift off yards away into the dark sea. 

Even during his delirious state, he didn’t fail to recognize one face in particular- the same face who glowered at him while he received the second place trophy yesterday night. Even with third place, Minjae still wasn’t satisfied, not when the kid he loved to pick on beat him at his own game, with much less training and practice. His ego was as easy to bruise as a banana.

With no paddle or oar, Wooyoung’s attempts to return back to shore with his bound hands were fruitless. As the boat drifted off even further, he flung his hands to grasp the edge of the jagged rocks, finger scraping against the barnacles and limpets that cracked underneath his steady grip. The blankets of green algae coating the rock causes his fingers to slip and slide, sharp points of the rocks and tiny mussels no help in aiding him whatsoever.

Panic and dread settled in his system, much to his displeasure. San taught him that a clear mind will do wonders when one in is in trouble, however looking at his situation now, it’s almost inevitable what will happen to him. He can barely make out the dock now, the glow of the town still visible from where he grasped onto the rocks for dear life, feet still bound in the boat. It was dark outside, people were busy with the coronation, and he couldn’t hear anything or anyone. 

The waves were strong and yet gentle at this distance, the boat rocking noisily against the large stones. The moon’s reflection in the water rippled, and a mop of blonde hair surfaced, startling Wooyoung suddenly. The being’s lips moved slowly, as if he were chanting calmly, eyes holding a mischievous fire within them. The man’s skin had an iridescent glow to it underneath the moonlight, specks of turquoise lining the sides of his neck and cheekbones. 

“Which human is stupid enough to take a swim at night during a full moon, hm?”

Pectoral fins on his neck flapped gently in the water, gill cavities visible from where Wooyoung stood. The being’s hair was reminiscent of the golden threads of the royal family garbs, and Wooyoung could only gape in sheer shock at the creature’s beauty. When he made no move to submerge himself in the water, the creature circled around the boat, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips moved rapidly now, shaping words Wooyoung had a difficult time deciphering, especially with such dim lighting.

From this distance, Wooyoung made out a large turquoise tail, which glimmered within the moonlight right below the surface of the water, and only then did he realize that the creature was the same one in the books he’s read about in San’s library as a child. However, this time, you weren’t there to fight the imaginary creatures on his behalf, and he was alone, stuck at sea along with said creature.The drawings did little to no justice in capturing the painful beauty of the beasts, though.

The siren’s lips parted, teeth so sharp like the daggers he trained with, anger now evident in his eyes as he swam much too close to Wooyoung’s comfort. “Why are you not abandoning your boat to come to me, you filthy human?” the creature sneered, jagged claws scraping at the edge of Wooyoung’s boat. 

Golden eyes widened as Wooyoung swatted the creature’s hands away in retaliation. The siren reeled back in surprise, shock enveloping his features as the human glowered down at him. Bounded hands or not, Wooyoung will not go down without a fight. If you were here, you would be proud, he thinks.

When the creature attempts to grasp the edge of the boat once more, tilting it down to capsize it, Wooyoung’s hands reach out to scrape long stripes onto the being’s arms, his scaly, slippery flesh cool to the touch. He made no attempt to smirk cockily at the shocked creature as it pulled back with a hiss. It still had the upper hand in this situation. Warily, the golden haired being swayed gently along with the waves, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy’s face. Turning hastily to eye the structure of the rock, Wooyoung contemplated trying to climb onto the high surface for safety despite his restraints. Maybe the morning sailors and fishermen will find him in the early hours of the morning.

“Ah, you’re quite boring,” he drawled in disgust, “I like them when they scream and cry.”

This is definitely a crazy one. Maybe Seonghwa will enjoy tearing him open instead.

Wooyoung startled at the noise that invaded his mind, frantically looking around for the source, only for his eyes to lock onto the back of the being’s head. Did he just hear? That was a voice, right? 

‘Are you talking about me?’

The creature was now far enough for the reflection of the moon to ripple between the two. 

‘Hey! Was that you speaking? How can I hear you?’

Wooyoung was certainly not expecting shock to wash over the being’s features, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he turned his head to gaze back at him over his scaly shoulder, golden orbs widening. Just who was this human?

‘How are you communicating with me telepathically? This is not possible,’ the creature made no move to swim closer, uncertainty in its eyes,’What kind of human are you, boy?’

Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond, the confusion in his eyes mirroring the creature’s,’I don’t know,’ his hands gripped the boulders roughly as a harsh wave rocked the boat. With desperate eyes, he pleaded to the creature,’Please help me reach back to shore.’

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear to know how amused the creature was at his words. Throwing his head back with laughter, golden strands glimmering with every movement,’A siren? Helping a human?’ he swam slowly to the purple haired male, golden orbs narrowing into a threatening glare as he spat his next words harshly,’I don’t help your kind. I find it much more amusing to rip you measly humans open by your throats, watching your life flash before your eyes as you choke on your blood, before you sink to the pits of the ocean where your pathetic wastes of bodies are gnawed on by sea creatures. You should’ve listened to the warnings in your bedtime stori-’

“Wooyoung!” 

The motion of the siren’s head snapping to the side bought Wooyoung’s attention up to that direction, eyes squinting to make out a figure struggling to make it past the onset of waves in a small coracle. Relief washed over him, his eyes widened in recognition, unable to wave his bound hands in fear of losing his grip of the rocks. 

“Oh, thank the heavens you’re—”

Knowing fully well he couldn’t hear you, you couldn’t help but shout in relief at the mere sight of his intact body. It was only when you noticed the head of blonde hair in the water that the oar nearly slipped out of your hands. In a desperate attempt to further the distance between Wooyoung and that damned siren, you were quick to whip your shoes in its direction, aiming for the creature’s head. 

“Get away from him!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at your actions, shaking his head frantically to get your attention,’Stop, you idiot!’ His face said it all, but you were too engrossed in yelling profanities at the creature, whose eyes flickered from the floating shoes and back to your heated face. When the siren’s lips curled back, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight to make his way to end your life, Wooyoung rushed to stop him, knowing fully well what will conclude if he didn’t,‘Stop! No! Don’t hurt, (y/n)! Please.’

‘One strange human after another. Give me one reason I shouldn’t snap this human roach’s neck this instant,’ the creature hissed underneath his breath, molten gold orbs furiously trained on your approaching figure. Wooyoung’s eyes frantically flickered back and forth from your outraged form and back to the crouching siren, whose face sunk in the water until he was eye level with the surface,’Well?’

‘(Y/n).. (y/n) is my lover?,’ Wooyoung threw in a white lie, wincing at the irrational thoughts he shared with the creature. Whether or not the creature knew he was lying, he hoped that was enough to deter him, even slightly. Golden eyes peered at him in faint curiosity, a scoff escaping the creature’s lips in bubbles, before he dipped himself fully underneath the water’s surface, swimming his way in your direction, ignoring the frantic thoughts of the purple haired male drilling in his mind.

You glared down at the creature underneath the water, whose amused eyes studied your seething form. You aimed the oar, plunging it down with a loud plop of the water. A laugh rang out behind you, and you found yourself suddenly tilting face first into the water. Your frantic swimming came to a halt when the creature circled around you beneath the surface, long turquoise tail curling around your frame in amusement. Beams of moonlight illuminated his iridescent face, which was mere inches away from your own, his lips stretching wide to reveal two rows of sharp, jagged teeth, golden strands dancing and framing his face beautifully. 

You refused to allow this fish to scare you– not like last time. It was that sudden impulse that prompted you to angrily tug at the fins on his neck, before you gripped his long, wavy locks back, fingers roughly digging into the gaps of his gills. 

If you had air, you would’ve laughed at the stupefied expression on his face, but before you made another move, his tail smacked you upside the head, taking you by surprise. He wriggled away from your grasp, swimming away and allowing the darkness of the ocean to engulf his figure. 

Breaking the surface of the ocean, you spotted a panic stricken Wooyoung, whose shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your smiling face. You ignored the glare he sent you as you swam a few feet to retrieve the floating oar, before making your way over to his boat, struggling to climb in. You clung onto his dry form, hands cupping his face to examine it and his neck, looking for any sign of harm.

He struggled to sign words with his bound hands, his chin jutting in the general direction of the shore, silently asking you to start paddling. Golden hair and eyes broke the surface of the water yards behind the boat, watching you struggle to keep the boat steady and straight. ‘Visit me again, Human. You’ve intrigued me.’ Wooyoung’s head snapped back at the sound, but all he could make out was a ripple of the water. You found yourself hunched down, a jagged stone in hand as you attempted to slice through the hemp twine encasing Wooyoung’s limbs. The two of you walked to the nearby promenade, the low lighting of the lampposts around you not aiding your sight in the slightest. With the adrenaline now fading away, the reality of what just occurred finally began to sink in your frazzled mind. Your hands trembled as you sliced through, tears dropping in pearls onto the pavement. You were so, so close to losing the only person you called family. Was this the feeling of what having a family meant? The impending doom one feels when their loved one is in danger? You hated it. You loved Wooyoung, but you hated this foreign feeling. It was ugly and it tore you down from the inside out, disrupting your breathing pattern and train of thought. Off to the side, the gentle waters rocked the small dinghies and larger day boats nestled on the side of the promenade. The moon’s reflection was stunning against the calmer waters of this side of town. “Where have you been!?” San’s frantic cry snapped your attention from cutting the bonds around Wooyoung’s arms, and up to the confused, ebony haired male who hunched forward, clutching the wall to steady his breathing,”I checked the entire south shore! Minjae said Wooyoung-” “You best believe I’ll have him expelled from your school after the stunt he pulled,” you growled, finally tugging the last of the thick twine from the purple haired boy’s limbs, your hands still trembling with anger, before you hurled the stone against one of the smaller boats, the water rippling as it dropped down, “I’ll— I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll snap his neck in half- as soon as I get my hands on him I-.. I will squeeze his throat until he’s as blue as the ocean..” Wooyoung’s hands fisted around your lithe fingers, his arms pulling you into his chest tightly as you desperately gripped the back of his shirt, too afraid to let him go. San’s expression fell at the sight, his hands reaching to rub the both of your backs. ‘Are you okay?’ San pulled the other into a hug, hand cradling the other’s head tenderly. Wooyoung pulled away to nod, a silent storm forming in his brown hues, which you two failed to see past the anger and relief that washed upon reuniting with your friend. Later on, San happily visited you to inform you of Minjae’s expulsion from the swordsmanship program, the school stripping away all of the past medals he obtained. He was happy to have him gone and have you not behind bars for attempted murder. He refused to let you know where Minjae lives. — Peeling his eyes open, Wooyoung found himself submerged within the dark depths of the ocean. No marine life swam by, and strong beams of sunlight danced beneath the surface of the water. He kicked his legs and arms in an attempt to swim up to the surface. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt the need for air. A few seconds before he breached the surface, a kind face hovered above the water, the person’s visage distorted with the moving water. A hand plunged down the water hastily, the pads of two fingers grazing his forehead ever so gently, before he found himself being dragged down to the ocean’s dark trenches by a strong force, his arm instinctively flinging up to try and reach the outstretched hand. He felt a scream slip past his lips as a clawed hand pierced through the flesh of his neck, dragging upwards towards his chin, the blood beginning to waft into the water around him. The manic laughter emitted from the creature practically curdled his blood, and his vision was suddenly overtaken by a set of teeth so sharp they resembled daggers. The creature’s jaws snapped so tightly around the junction of his nec— Wooyoung’s frame shot up suddenly. His chest heaved with rapid, heavy breaths, heart practically convulsing in his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, his wide, paranoid eyes scanned his environment, shoulders relaxing subtly as he took in the sight of the messy living space he shared with you. Beams of sunlight flickered through the curtains, birds chirping happily in the early hours of the morning. He heard your faint breathing from the bottom bunk, and he fluttered his eyes shut in relief. Throwing himself back, he gazed up at the chipped, stained ceiling, face and arms glistening with a sheen of sweat. The constant nightmares still will not hinder his decision to meet with the siren. He wanted answers. He needed answers. A month passed since the incident and Prince Hongjoong’s coronation, and you grew increasingly worried about Wooyoung. He appeared to be in his own world when hauling the nets of fish every morning, his eyes trained onto the ocean the entire time. The cries of seagulls could be heard as they dipped and soared overhead near the docked fishing trawlers. Your brows knitted in confusion as his gaze never left the vast expanse of the gentle waters, despite the most clouding the air. Just what was he searching for? You’ll study him a bit more before confronting him- that sounded like a good enough course of action Wooyoung also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the town’s library while he wasn’t training with San. While he loved reading with you and San when he was younger ( San and you took turns wither narrating or animatedly sign the words for him for a better experience in storytelling), he never really went out of his way to read on his own accord. He had shook his head when you asked if anything was bothering him. Even San couldn’t get him to reveal the cause of his sudden curiosity of the mythical sea creatures. You decided not to pry too much, instead focusing on completing more tasks to get an extra heap of silver coins before San’s birthday, silently promising yourself to buy him that golden cutlass sword he set his eyes on months ago. When Wooyoung wasn’t in either the library, or training, he sauntered off without informing anyone. You were worried at the sudden change of behavior, but after speaking with San, you came to realization that Wooyoung was an adult now, and he didn’t need supervision or protection like he once did as a child. You still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling out of the pit of your stomach. ‘Is everything okay with you?’ you asked one day, book in your lap forgotten as you stared at him from your seat on the lower bunk bed. The smell of salt and sea lingered in your small space from the opened window in the back. He lifted his umber hues for the briefest second to watch you repeat the gestures before nodding with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his book on the small table in the corner of your one-room living quarters. Miffed at his lack of honesty, you crawled out of the space, book tossed aside as you roughly dragged the chair back to plop across from him, eyes searching his face for answers,’Where have you been going off to?’ Quirking a brow at your pushy and intrusive choice of words, he held himself back from rolling his eyes,’It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.’ He returned his gaze back to the book, lavender locks falling into his eyes. You swiftly snatched the book away from him, eyes scanning the page quickly before he practically jumps onto you, face contorted into disbelief and anger, his expression clearly asking you if you had lost your mind,’Why are you suddenly so interested in sirens? Why do you disappear for hours on end almost every single day?’ ‘I told you it’s nothing important. Go to sleep,’ anger was clearly evident on his features and his demeanor. He plopped down back into his seat, book concealing half of his face as his eyes flickered to you in frustration. ‘You’re trying to find that siren, aren’t you?’ He stilled, mind reeling at the accusation, before he snapped the heavy book shut with a loud slam, ignoring your existence completely as he made his way over to the ladder to reach his top bunk. You grabbed him by the back of the shirt, turning him around to point a finger in his face, relying on him to read your lips, the anger in your system seemingly unbearable, “Am I right!?” ‘Stop treating me like I’m your son. Goodnight, (y/n).’ He left no room for arguments, eyes void of any warmth at your nosy questions. You watched him crawl into his covers, his back facing you. Scoffing to yourself, you reached down to snuff the oil lamps, the sudden darkness of the room concealing the hurt expression that painted your features. Wooyoung didn’t bother exchanging words with you the next day during your fish deliveries. You glowered at his retreating figure as he just waved a goodbye. You thought it was best to ignore the brat, and instead focus on the errands left on your plate. The tasks you completed were mostly deliveries of goods, and cleaning the docks and beaches of the litter and waste the townspeople left behind. You grimaced as you picked up what appeared to be the remnants of a torn loincloth and a shattered bottle of rum, throwing it in the plastic bag you carried in your gloved hands. Turning swiftly back to the pile you created up the slope of the rocky area of the beach, a flash of purple froze you in your tracks. You blinked, but nothing was there. Furrowing your brows, you decided to investigate, just to make sure the sun hadn’t baked your brain and burned your eyes. Placing the parchment bag down to steady it against a sturdy rock, you padded your way towards the sea cave that the villagers always warned kids not to venture off into. The water reached your ankles as you hesitantly stepped into the quiet cave, beams of sunlight guiding you through the tunnel of rocks. You grimaced at the feeling of algae and barnacle on the wall, feet stepping cautiously onto the wet boulders. You turned a corner, eyes immediately catching sight of the opening on the top of the cave, which filtered strong beams of rays into the shallow, turquoise and blue waters of the cave. Not quite paying close attention to your footing, your ankle caught onto a chunk of seaweed, toes stubbing against a jagged stone. You yelped loudly, your voice echoing in the cave as you crashed into the waist deep water. Before the thought of getting up even crossed your mind, your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar siren, who bristled in front of you, the long, protruding rays on his frame flaring out in anger, claws and jagged teeth ready to rip you apart if it wasn’t the blur of purple that hovered above you with arms spread out in defense. A whistling hiss emitted from the creature as he peered at you from over Wooyoung’s shoulders, face contorted into a glare, “Wooyoung!? You—...” the pain from your fall was now buried underneath the rising anger that bubbled from within you. Pointing an accusing finger at the creature, you glared back, “You! I knew it! You seduced him! You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?!” “How disgusting that you think I’ll reduce myself to seduce a human being of all things. I would much rather kiss a squid. I want nothing to do with you filthy pests.” You smacked Wooyoung’s calf in confusion, angrily signing at the sight of his embarrassed expression,’What are you doing here with a siren!?’ ‘Why were you following me?’ ‘I wasn’t! I was running an errand when I saw you come here! He seduced you. He sang for you, and you-‘ your hands just could not keep up with your racing thoughts. You opted to spit out your words, mostly for the siren to hear,“I’ll slice him like a trout and sell his flesh in the market- now move, Wooyoung,” you proceeded to step around the taller male, your bare hands clawing at the air as he tugged you back by the waist, the siren staring at you with a dull expression. “Crazy human,” he simpered at the sight of your frustration, “Your boyfriend can’t even hear me sing.” You kicked at the water at the smug expression of the siren, Wooyoung’s jaw dropping in disbelief, @He’s not my boyfriend, you putrid fish! If I find out you’ve hurt him in any way-” With a wave of his tail, you found yourself drenched from the head down. — Crossing your arms in anger, you leaned against the mossy wall of the cave, glaring holes into the siren’s head, as Wooyoung finished explaining everything, demeanor nervous and all as you rung your shirt for the third time to rid your attire of the seawater. Seagulls cawed around the roof of the cave, and small creatures climbed in between the cracks and crevices of the rocks surrounding you. Yeosang was leaning forward, arms crossed against a rock, chin tucked up onto his arms as his tail swished languidly in the water behind him. “Is it true that Wooyoung can speak to you telepathically?” you peered over the boy’s shoulder, quirking a brow at the bored siren, who was busy toying with a cluster of barnacle. He nodded, rolling his eyes as you asked for an explanation as to why that was possible. “Don’t know. Your lovely human friend here has been reading about it all month, and I can’t come up with anything rational either,” he threw himself back, eyes squinting as beams of sunlight flashed onto his face, “He’s been meeting me here to ask questions and learn about our kind. Curious little guy, but naive. It’s great that the runt has you following after him like a little sandpiper, or else I probably would have killed him that night.” He burst into a fit of mock laughter at your panicked expression, leaning back against a rock and crossing his arms over his chest, green, transparent gills dripping with seawater, “Kidding. I’ve never met a deaf human and a ..” he eyed you up and down, tongue gliding against his sharp teeth as he thought of a way to describe you, “Earth roach.” Wooyoung shot you a look as you attempted to grab a seashell to thwart it at the siren, “Why should we even trust you? You’ve killed too many humans. One of you attacked me too!” “You don’t have to trust me,” his tail fins swayed gently in the water as he threw a smirk your way,”Ah, so you’re that human that managed to escape from Seonghwa years ago? You left some ugly damage to his gills that day, y’know. Couldn’t sing for a week. He’ll be happy to know I found you.” “It’s against the law to interact with sirens anyway. I don’t want to see that bastard.” “Well, I guess I should call the King on you two for breaking the law? Or better yet, maybe I’ll tear you apart to see how you look from the inside. Red is my favorite color for a reason.” You rolled your eyes, tugging at Wooyoung’s elbow to get his attention. You urged him to go home with you and leave the siren be, but he wouldn’t budge, sitting down onto one of the dry rocks, hands grabbing at the forgotten book. You argued back and forth, exchanging glares of protest as he told you he’ll be fine. “He is a siren,” you cried, hands grasping his shoulders, face leaning in, “He will kill you!” ‘He would have killed me weeks ago, if he really wanted to,’ he defended, mirroring your own fierce glare. Twenty minutes ticked by, and you eventually gave up attempting to persuade him. Wooyoung was as stubborn as a rock. You decided it was best to just trust him, even if you did think he was insane for interacting with a siren like it was a friend. Like it was human. Like it had compassion and empathy. It was nothing but a blood-thirsty killer. His explanation just had no merit to it whatsoever. A month passed and Wooyoung wasn’t killed, so you assumed all was well. The last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung walk back into your complex, one late night, with disheveled hair and purple marking on his neck. The straw broom in your hands fell onto the floor with a loud clang, as you attempted to near him in suspicion. His hands hastily shot up to conceal the love-bites with the collar of his blouse, but your hands were quick to push them away. You glared into his eyes disapprovingly as his face flushed in embarrassment, “Please tell me it wasn’t him.” Anger suddenly washed his features as he read your lips. He pried your arms off, angrily shoving past you to reach the closet for a change of clothes. You rushed to stand in front him, arms crossed and features cold,’You can’t expect me to be okay with this. He’s a siren. You can’t love a siren. Don’t go see him again, please. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.’ ‘I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself,’ his gaze was cold. ‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m scared. What if he hurts you?’ ‘It’s because I’m deaf, isn’t it? You think the world is out to get me, and I’m not capable of handling anything by myself?’ You vehemently disagreed with his thoughts, but he left no more room for argument as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut, rattling the figurines on top of the wooden dresser you shared. The sound of the shower head was audible through the door as you furiously swept the remaining dust bunnies. This went on for about two more months The past two months have also been increasingly difficult for San and his mother at home. Your other friend grew somewhat distant and cold when you came to visit him at home. You didn’t need any explanation about his behavior. Mrs. Choi’s attempts at concealing the blooming blue and purple marks proved fruitless as she reached up to dust bookshelves, her shirt giving way to showcase the marks marring her skin. Her eyes seemed to always shine with a thin layer of tears, and her smile was forced half of the time.

San was aggressive whilst practicing and honing his swordsmanship skills, muscles burning in protest as he slashed at slabs of wood repeatedly, his cheeks rosy underneath the evening sun. Not even your arms tugging him away from the practice field sufficed in calming his raging nerves down, shouting at you to leave if you didn’t want to watch. There was a need to continuously grow stronger- you clearly saw it past his anger and frustration. He wanted, needed, to feel as if he had power over something. With a heavy heart, you nodded in acceptance, sitting off to the side to watch him burn himself out physically. He also partook in extra duels, so many that a limit had to be placed on how much he could take part in. During times like these, you realized being raised as an orphan was nothing compared to living with an abusive father. You only wished to stop feeling so helpless, wishing you could help carry the pain and exhaustion weighing San’s shoulders down.

One day, while the three of you sat together in a nearby cafe, he picked at his baked tart, eyes then darting from you quietly sipping your tea to Wooyoung who stuffed his mouth with a freshly baked croissant. The purple haired male wore a scarf around his neck, the sight of it only angering you slightly. San’s lips parted in hesitation, words dying in his throat as you glanced up at him curiously,”You okay?”

Wooyoung peered over at the ebony haired male, cheeks round with warm pastry and jam, his eyes blinking in confusion,‘Sorry, did you want a piece of my croissant?’

San snorted at the guilt ridden expression on the lavender haired male’s visage, an amused smile raking his features as he shook his head,’No. That’s fine,’ his hands hovered above his drink, lips pressed into a thin line, before he continued,’I realized I never thanked you two.’

‘Thanked us for what?’ 

‘I didn’t grow up having anyone to look up to. I only grew up knowing what I don’t want to be like. None of the children at school understood me, either. They often mocked my mother and I when they visited the library, sometimes smudging ink on their hands to resemble the bruises on her arms. They were evil, and for the longest time, I thought the entire world was as cold as they were. You two changed my entire perceptive of people, though. So, thank you. It’s years too late, but-,’ San’s bashful expression suddenly fell at the sight of the two pairs of glassy eyes,”Ah! What? Don’t even think about crying!”

—

Weeks later, and San had returned to somewhat of a healthier, emotional state of mind, spending most of his time either at the library with his mother, or training and dueling. Late nights walking on the beach also aided his frazzled nerves.

Wooyoung spent most of him time with Yeosang at the cave, and San had questioned you regarding his behavior one day when he paid you a visit, hands heavy with the dinner he helped his mother prepare. You gaped at him, chopsticks in mid-air as you gave him an incredulous look, “What? No, I didn’t reject him- I don’t even like him like that— oh heavens this is Wooyoung we’re talking about, San. He’s like a brother to me. You know that. He’s just..” What sounded reasonable enough for Wooyoung to spend more time away from the only people he considered family? What were you going to say? Picking up on San’s lingering suspicion, you placed your utensil down, sighing and ringing your fingers together as you gazed at him in contemplation, “I..” the words you wanted stuck in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suddenly found interest in the noodles and fish on your plate, “You know I have feelings for you, and only you. No one will ever change that, San.”

You were aware of how heated his face had become at the confession, brown hues lifting to study your features warily, “Do you really mean that? Am I good enough for you?”

You push past the need to shoot him an incredulous look, instead opting to reach over to clasp his hands in your own, fingers coiling with his,”Of course, I mean it. You’ll always own my heart. It’s always been that way.”

“But I need you to tell me that I’m good enough for you,” he pushed his plate away, appetite gone as he stared stoically at you, his voice so small it sounded like a whisper,“Do you think I’m capable of protecting you? Or.. or even loving you? Am I?”

“You are. You’re more than enough for me,” you stood up to hug his head against your chest, his eyes locked on yours, stunned and almost teary-eyed, “You’ll always be enough.”

One moment you were busy eating dinner, and the next the two of you found yourselves entangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging feverish kisses and desperate, long-awaited touches that once only existed existed in your dreams, too insecure to turn them into reality. You kissed every mark and scar left from the hands of his father, murmuring gentle praises against his marred skin, his muscles rippling underneath your touch. His lips wouldn’t leave your form, biting and sucking at every expanse of flesh he could reach as he rocked into you, hands gripping your hips and waist almost possessively. 

He fell against your bare form in a heap, your conjoined bodies sticky and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His face was buried into the crook of your neck as he suckled onto a patch of your bruised skin, hot breath fanning against your already heated flesh as he whispered sweet, muffled promises against the shell of your ear. You felt his release slowly dribble from where your bodies met, your frame squirming at the sensation as you unwrapped your legs from around his waist, spreading them apart to allow him room to settle against your panting figure.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was into Wooyoung,” you groaned in embarrassment as he littered your chest with tiny love marks, teeth scraping against your skin in the most pleasurable way. He chuckled against your supple flesh, and it’s then you realized you haven’t seen a smile reach his eyes quite like this in all the years you’ve known him.

The next morning, he expected to find a flustered Wooyoung at the sight of San sleeping in his home, but his sheets were still pristine and untouched, just as they were the night before. He questioned you about Wooyoung while you two shared a light breakfast together, beams of sunlight doing wonders to his chiseled visage and bed hair.

“Okay, I guess I’ve been keeping this away from you for too long, and Wooyoung didn’t want me mentioning it—” An inferno set ablaze in San’s eyes, and you internally scolded yourself for the lack of appropriate words. You hastily whispered before he had the opportunity to open his mouth, “He made friends with a siren, and-”

“With a siren!?” His spoon clattered in the bowl of porridge, splashing the table and the mug of tea. Your eyes widened and you slapped a finger to your lips, telling him to lower his voice, “What do you mean be quiet!? He’s with a siren, and you’re okay with that!?”

His hard gaze was trained on you, and an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. You parted your lips to explain, when suddenly, he pushed back his seat, chair scraping the floor as he made his way over to Wooyoung’s closet, throwing on the leather baldric he found and sheathing Wooyoung’s sword, before tugging his boots only to spare you a brief glance. You trailed after San, hands tugging desperately at his arms, but he refused to turn around and listen, “Listen, I’ve tried telling him, but he wouldn’t have it! Trust me, this is going to do more harm than good- He can hear the siren! They communicate telepathically and- and.. there’s no explanation to it but please- I’ve tried persuading him, but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“You..,” San paused in his tracks, turning around to give you a hard stare, eyes clouded with conflict. His lips parted, before they pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense with anger, “If you think I’m going to sit back and hope one of my best friends won’t die in the hands of a monster, then you must’ve lost your mind.”

The words stung, but you knew that was his irrational side taking over. A part of you knew you couldn’t blame him for rash behavior he’s grown from being around someone as horrid as his father, “You’re going to show me where he is, before I take this to the King and have that beast slaughtered.”

You were in for a lot of shit, and you didn’t know who to be afraid of most. San, for keeping this information away from him? Wooyoung, who made you promise you wouldn’t speak of this? Yeosang, who wasn’t that quite fond of you? Or King Hongjoong, who followed in the footsteps of his father, abiding by all the laws the older has set for the people.

When San stumbled into the cave, gently prying you off, his eyes burning with rage as he searched for a familiar head of purple, “Wooyoung!”

Flashes of confusion, betrayal, and anger sparked within Wooyoung’s eyes as he noticed the two of you, his eyes sending you a silent question as you noticed the glimmer of Yeosang’s tail underneath the dark waters.

‘You have gone crazy, haven’t you?’

Wooyoung chose to ignore him, pushing past his shoulder with the books he borrowed from the library tucked underneath his arm. If he recognized the baldric fastened on San’s torso, he made no implication of it. A furious hand clamped onto his shoulder, swiveling him back to face the the seething swordsman. San threateningly leaned into Wooyoung’s face, eyes raging with an inferno of anger and hostility. The purple haired male hesitantly bought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, but San’s eyes already took note of the purple marks on the column of the boy’s flesh, “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell me he was intimate with it too!?”

“San,” you called out in annoyance, “Stop. He’s safe, you see? I told you Yeosang means no ha—”

A sudden flash of silver made you reel back in shock, your eyes widening at the sight of San brandishing his sharpened sword, the tip barely grazing the siren’s nose as the two froze to stare each other down. Wooyoung dropped the book he carried in surprise arms flying out to tug San’s weapon back, his own orbs furiously staring his friend down.

“Yeosang, leave!” You shouted amongst the commotion of your two friends, stepping around them to lightly push at Yeosang’s shoulders deeper into the water, “You’ll get killed! Leave!”

“Don’t underestimate me, little human. You’re going to regret the day you were born.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of his parted lips, swiftly rushing back to the other two, but you couldn’t call San in time to warn him, “Cover your-”

The sword clattered against the small boulders beneath San’s feet, eyes unfocused as the melodic sound of the siren’s call echoed within the walls of the cave, filling his ears. Wooyoung stared at his best friend’s face in shock, eyes flickering down to the sword, before he gazed at Yeosang in realization. He hesitantly watched San turn around in Yeosang’s direction, before he quickly wrapped a hand around the ebony haired male’s waist, tugging him back harshly,’Yeosang! Stop! I won’t let you kill him!’

Yeosang paid no mind to his friend’s protests, amused eyes flickering from both San and yourself, who struggled on maintaining your ears clamped with your hands. He raised his voice, lips quirking as your hands fell limp against your sides, eyes locked on the vast space in front of you. His hands itched at the thought of ripping the two of you apart from the inside out.

‘Yeosang! Stop!’

Yeosang’s voice was clearer than bells, and so devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to listen to it for years to come. Wooyoung’s panic stricken eyes flew over to your form as you trudged through the waist deep water, eyes unfocused and lips parted. He struggled to maintain a firm grip on San’s figure, who continuously clawed at the arms securing him in place.

Throwing San back against the mossy wall of the cave, Wooyoung madly dashed to tackle Yeosang down into the water, immediately ceasing his singing. The siren hissed in retaliation, nails dragging down the flesh of the hands clamped onto his mouth. He furiously swung his tail against Wooyoung’s ankles, pulling him down into the water. Snapping out of your trance, you were quick on your feet to help San up, hastily gripping the heavy sword away from his grasp. When he demanded you to hand it to him, Wooyoung shoved the both of you in the direction of cave’s entrance, furiously signing to leave immediately.

‘I’ll be fine! Just leave!’

A clawed hand reached out to slash at San, and out of instinct, you shoved yourself in between him and the siren, claws latching onto your ankle. Your immediate response was to pull away, flesh tearing underneath the sharp nails, a hiss leaving your lips as the salt in the ocean doing nothing to ease the pain of your opened wounds.

Wooyoung wrestled the siren down, hands clamped around his mouth, while he shot you two a look over his shoulder, eyes wild and void of any patience. San scoffed, hand wrapping around your waist to hoist you up on your good leg, eyes narrowed furiously,”You should have never stopped me from killing it–” “Shut up, San. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in—”

You emitted a groan of pain as your wounded leg brushed against the protruding edge of a rocky sides of the cave, hissing underneath your breath as you gripped San’s forearm to ease your mind off the burning sensation. Finally stumbling down onto the pebbled floor of the shore, you paused as San pulled away from you, “You go get help, and I’ll go back and-”

“You are not going back there! He will kill you, San. Get that through your thick head.”

“He nearly killed you, (y/n)! We left Wooyoung with that monster!”

“He’ll be okay, I promise. Wooyoung will be fine,” you groaned at the sight of red running down your ankle and soaking the sand underneath your foot,”Please, just fucking listen to me for once!” He stilled at your raised voice, and your eyes widened suddenly at the change of his demeanor. You quickly grasped his elbows, attempting to look him in the eye, “Oh, San- no. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling- I forgot-”

“We should get your leg checked out,” he quipped firmly, avoiding your gaze as he proceeded to push you in the general direction of town, his shoulders and jaw tense with unresolved tension and anger.

— It was midnight, and Wooyoung still hadn’t returned home. Your one room living space felt too vacant without him sleeping on the top bunk bed you shared. Your ankle throbbed beneath the thick bandages, the smell of herbal ointment prominent even underneath the heavy layers of cloth.

You tossed and turned in your sheets for what felt like hours. The exhaustion and worry that clouded your mind prevented you from falling asleep. You quickly sat up, reached to light your oil lamp, before making your way out of your home to wander restlessly in the desolate streets, hoping to find the purple haired male.

You paused once you stepped around the corner of San’s neighborhood. Broken and discarded glass decorated the floor near his feet where he sat against the entryway of his home. The door hung by its hinges, splintered and shattered in some areas. You nearly dropped your lamp as you rushed towards the disheveled male, whose half-buttoned up, bloodied shirt, revealed glimpses of jagged scars left from his duels. Your eyes studied his visage, brows knitting in concern at the familiar, ghostly frown. His eyes spared you the briefest of looks before he dropped his gaze down to his bloody hands. Dried tear streaks and specks of red decorated his ghostly visage. The faint barking of a dog was heard streets away.

“It’s not mine. None of it is mine,” he mumbled, noticing your stunned gaze at the sight of red.

“They fought again?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded silently, arms limp at his sides, “.. and she ran away again?” Another nod, and suddenly he found himself engulfed in your hold, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, face buried against the crown of your head. His resolve shatter quicker than any glass.

“I- .. I was angry, (y/n). I fought with him,” His voice was small and wavering, jumbled thoughts spilling rapidly from his lips,”the medics took him. He called me a bloodthirsty killer– but I’m..was it was defense? That’s not considered killing, right?” His breathing quickened, chest heaving as he struggled to steady his air flow, voice rising an octave as panic laced his tone,” “I’m not a killer, am I (y/n)? I am nothing like him,” his fingers tugged at his untamed hair in frustration, pupils quivering rapidly as he attempted to calm his racing and frantic heart, “I will never be anything like him. I need you to tell me that. Tell me I’m nothing like him!”

You pulled him inside and onto the couch, stepping over the fallen furniture, splintered wood, broken flower vases, and torn, embroidered, floral tapestries that littered the floor. Your eyes caught sight of a fallen, bloodied sword you recognized from San’s practices. Cold dinner filled plates lay broken near the flipped table. You held onto your broken friend throughout the night, consoling him repeatedly and wiping away his tears. You pressed numerous kisses onto his face, your hand running through his locks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, years of agony apparent in his loud, torturous cries muffled against your skin. The sounds made your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way. You paused only when you noted the change in pattern of his breathing, indicating his deep slumber. Your eyes glanced at the full moon out the window, only praying that both Wooyoung and Mrs. Choi were alright.

—

Wooyoung was curled onto one of the higher rocks of the cave, fast asleep. He refused to return back home, not yet ready or willing to face his friends. Droplets of seawater pelting his face startled him awake, and he sat up in confusion at the sudden sensation. This definitely do not look like the ceiling of his home. His eyes snap down to search for Yeosang, the memories from hours ago vividly etching themselves back into his mind.

His eyes locked on someone else’s- a woman’s- and his eyes could only stare back in shock at the sight of San’s mother of all people in the cave, struggling to pry a raging Yeosang off of her.

‘Yeosang! Stop! Don’t kill her! I know her-’

‘You say that about every rat of a human, don't you?’

Only when Yeosang turned to snap the intruder’s neck in half, he paused at the gleam of her necklace. His gills contracted as he gazed at the intricately carved pendant resting on the older woman’s clavicles, “Where did you get that, filthy human?” he hissed, fins and rays flaring out ferociously, his long and sharp teeth snapping at the rage in his tone,”That necklace is for my people. My clan.”

“A friend gave it to me,” the lady explained, hand protectively clutching the pendant and out of Yeosang’s sight. He glowered menacingly at her, eyes still holding numerous silent questions. His eyes glanced down at her blue and purple marred neck and décolletage, “You.. you resemble him so much. My friend. This used to be our hang out spot years ago. His name was Yeohan. Did you know him?”

Yeosang jerked back suddenly, and from Wooyoung’s spot and the darkness engulfing the cave, he could hardly make out the movements of their lips. He scrambled to climb down the rocks, making his way over, legs frantically splashing in the water.

‘Yeosang? What’s wrong?’

“How do you know my father!? He died-”

“Twenty years ago,” Mrs. Choi finished for him, his eyes growing wide with shock at the woman’s affirmation,”The king killed him for the coming-of-age ritual. He wears his coat to this day. The moment I saw you, I knew you had to have been his offspring. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“You think I don’t know the evil things you’ve done to my people?” The siren spat, “I don’t need you telling me what crimes your kind has committed-”

“I will get it back for you. His coat. I’ll return it to you here by dawn.” Silence enveloped the two as the sea creature stared with a gaping mouth at the human.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What purpose would that serve you? Certainly, not out of kindness?”

She only offered him a sad smile. — You adjusted your trousers one last time, before leaning down to brush the hair out of San’s face. He stirred awake from your touch, eyes tired and puffy, “Is it morning?”

You glanced at the dark window, shrugging slightly before turning back to him, “Sort of. I need to deliver the fish to the merchants. I think.. I think you should stay here until I’m back. We can go check on your mom together? Do you want the keys to my place? Go rest there while I’m away.”

He nodded with a soft sigh, hand cupping the one you placed onto his palm,”I’ll stay here to clean up. Don’t take too long, please.”

“I won’t. Just please rest for me, okay? Maybe Wooyoung will come back to visit you here.”

You pressed a firm kiss against his lips, one he gladly reciprocated even in his sleepy state, “Love you.”

You were the first to discover Mrs. Choi’s body. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for the sight of a corpse, limp and pale and stuck between a cluster of jagged rocks underneath a cliff. The net of fish you hauled onto your back dropped with a loud thud onto the deck of the docked fishing ship, the sailors and other fisherman yelling at you in shock. It was only when you pointed out the body swaying against the rocks with every wave that they abandoned their work to call a nearby officer. 

Dread, heavy and ugly, filled you to the core, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the shouting in the background. Panic worked its way out of every pore on your body, your eyes locked on the floating, dark haired woman,  olive green dress swaying gently in the calm waters of the early morning.

It couldn’t be her.

She wasn’t the only woman in town with such a dress. A glimmer of hope twinkled somewhere inside of you.

Not her. Anyone but her. Upon closer inspection as the officers hauled up the body, you nearly collapsed on sight. A shudder claimed your body in realization, your blood running cold at the sight of her frozen, gaping, her lips a dark hue of blue, forehead marred and slightly dented from where she most likely impacted the rocks. You could only stare silently as the medics hauled the body up on a stretcher, placing it in the back of a large wagon, the sound of hooves hitting the rocky pavement indicating its departure.

Just how on earth are you planning on letting San know?

—

Hours later, after arguing continuously with the medics, protesting how you needed to see the body, they ultimately refused, even calling out to guards to lock you out of the medical wing of the building. The town of Aurora was coiled in chaos at the announcement of the corpse found near the docks. The councilmen furiously argued amongst each other as the crowd grew bigger in the town’s square, right beneath the large clock tower. Curious people joined along in confusion at the sudden, early commotion, some propping their windows open to tend to their clothe lines and watch with bewildered eyes.

You stood amongst the crowd, fists clenching repeatedly whilst maintaining your flaring emotions. You pondered whether or not you should stick around or go and inform San, when one of the royal family’s servants ordered the towns councilmen to the town hall for an immediate meeting with the current and former king. You turned to race towards the aforementioned building, only for a hand to grip you in place. Turning, your heart leaped in your throat at the solemn looking San. He made no move forward, and all you could do was silently gape, unsure of how you were going to break the news to him, “Couldn’t sleep. I know. The neighbors told me when I went back to check the library,” he calmly explained over the hordes of bodies shoving and pushing past the two of you. Amongst the rush of civilians, you embraced him with trembling arms, your brows knitting in anger as you buried your face into his brown tunic.

You grasped his hand in hopes of comforting him while the two of you waited amongst the crowd in the town hall for the appearance of the King and his father. He held you close, chin resting against the crown of your head. You can tell he was in shock, his grief yet to be surfaced as he held you silently. His eyes were heavy with years of turmoil and anguish, all underneath the hands of one, grimy man. Knowing him, deep down, he most likely will never find it in him to forgive himself for not chasing after his broken mother last night. It will haunt him for years to come.

King Hongjoong appeared, seated in the middle of the large bench, his father to his right. Other noblemen also sat beside the two rulers. A medical examiner spoke rapidly in hushed whispers to the white haired male, whilst pointing to several parchments of paper. The King’s brows knitted the more the examiner spoke, and he nodded solemnly, a hand reaching up to dismiss the two medical staff. A gloved hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his charcoal hues flickering to the side to glance at his father, whose stoic expression did not twitch in the slightest at the barren news. 

The Commander of the Royal Guards barked at the restless crowd of people gathered into the large room to have respect for the King, and the silence that followed suit was deafening. King Hongjoong cleared his throat, his hair pristine as usual, although there seemed to be a weight of burden and stress taking a toll on his young features. His eyes were lifeless and dark, a stark contrast to when he was much younger. 

“It’s come to our attention that the body of Mrs. Choi has been found near the harbor. Upon investigation, medical examiners have concluded that cause of death was suicide,” Hongjoong spoke clearly, voice booming in the walls of the building.

You felt San’s grip on your hand tighten, his brows furrowed as he attempted to contain his composure. You saw guilt flash within his orbs, so raw and visible it made you look away, at anything besides his face. It didn’t sound right hearing the words come out from the king’s lips. You knew Mrs. Choi as well as you knew San. There’s no way she would have willingly dove to her death. “Isn’t Mr. Choi also in the hospital for multiple stab wounds?” A voice piped from the crowd. Hongjoong frowned at the sudden interruption, his hands reaching up to adjust his cloak, when another voice spoke up.

“Where is their son? I heard from neighbors that he was the one who stabbed his father,” a middle aged man mused loudly to the crowd.

“Is that why Mrs. Choi killed herself?” a lady joined in now,”Or was her son behind her fall too?”

“What if a siren killed her?”

“Nonsense, we haven’t seen one in the past four years.”

“Then who do you think has been cutting all of our fishing nets and destroying our sails?,” a familiar voice rang out through the hall. The tall male stepped closer to the Commander, before turning to the crowd, and you watched with horror in your eyes at the next few words to slip out of the Minjae’s mouth, “I’ve been telling my dad about the purple-haired boy who’s been meeting with sirens in the cave east of town. I saw the siren with my own eyes. I told you Wooyoung was up to no good. He’s probably selling all of our people’s information to those beasts.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted to speak, anger clearly painting his features, before his father stood up suddenly, gaze hard and unwavering at the Commander. It was then you noticed the lack of cloak on his frame,”Interacting with those beasts is a criminal offense punishable by death. Find me that boy. I want him publicly executed in the town’s square. As for the librarian’s son, find him as well. Lock him in the chambers until I decide what to do with him.”

Hongjoong gaped to the side at his father in disbelief, brows knitting in confusion, his kohl rimmed eyes wide. Mingi, who stood behind the white haired King glanced at the male, shoulders tense at growing chaos infiltrating the room, “Let me make the decisions, Father. I am King, after all.”

San reached down to grip onto your hand, and when his hand curled into nothing but air, his eyes snapped down to find your figure gone. 

“You old bastard!” A sickening crunch, a wave of gasps of disbelief, and your shouting sent the townspeople into a mad frenzy.

—

Wooyoung watched the small fish swim by his feet, nibbling at his toes. He smiled tenderly, feet swishing and kicking at the animals playfully. Off to the side, Yeosang held onto his father’s cloak, so tightly and desperately as if it would disappear,’I told you that lady was nice.’

Yeosang reached up to rub at his wet eyes furiously, golden orbs flickering up to meet the umber colored ones of the male,’I take back my criticism. Maybe there are still some good humans out there. Repeat my words in front of Seonghwa, and I will personally claw out your eyeballs.’

‘If you do, how will I get to see your beautiful face?’ Wooyoung simpered, cheeks flushing slightly at the other’s thoughts. He nodded shyly, fingers reaching to grasp the siren’s hand, thumb caressing the iridescent skin,’Just like how there are sirens with good hearts as well,’ the intimate moment was soon interrupted by a frantic sound of splashing, and Yeosang’s face fell immediately upon the sight of a panic stricken San. Immediately reading the emotions haunting San’s features, Wooyoung stood up, face contorting in confusion as San scrambled to explain the gravity of the situation they were in, both verbally to Yeosang and with hand signs for Wooyoung.

‘They’re going to execute (y/n). Death by drowning.’

Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat or two, his eyes wide and hands limp by his sides. Yeosang quietly watched from behind him.

‘(Y/n) attacked the King’s father. They’re planning on executing you too for meeting with Yeosang. And they think I was the one who killed my mother, and they’re hunting for me, too.’

Wooyoung reeled back, the bombardment of shocking news too much for him to handle all at once, but San continued, occasionally fumbling with his hands from the sheer amount of stress surging through his system,’Wooyoung, we need to leave. Now. I’m going to bail (y/n) out, and you’ll wait for us at the west part of town. There’s a boat there. We have no time to waste,” he hastily reached forward to pull his friend up, tugging him forcibly over clusters of ocean rocks.

“In exchange, will you promise me to protect my son?”

It took Yeosang a minute or two to process the woman’s words, before he finally nodded in response, a frown settling on his features, “Only if you keep your end of the promise.” “No. You will join him on the boat and escape. Death by enforced drowning you said?”

—

You glared icily through the dark bars separating your form from the snow haired king. He ushered the guard to give the two of you privacy, and a minute of footsteps later, and the two of you were left alone in the dark chambers of the royal palace, mossy wall cold against your battered back, “What do you want?” you spat rudely, the taste of iron prominent against your busted lips, your bloodied teeth bared as you glowered at him, “If you’re here to give me shut about how I shouldn’t have attacked your swine of a—”

“They’re preparing the ship as we speak,” he cut you off, a hint of amusement dancing in his orbs joined by the flickering fire of the wall mounted sconce illuminating his features. He casted your cuffed hands a glance, before gazing at your bleeding ankle, “So, I came as fast as I could. The guards have already left to hunt down your two friends.”

Dread bled into your form, and your blood ran cold at the sudden gravity of his words. You were going to die. God, you were going to die before properly apologizing to Wooyoung, before holding San one last time, before- “I have a few words to share with you- I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you this soon, so,” you watched him remove the golden coat around his frame, rolling it tightly before placing it down into the cell, “Incase either one of us doesn’t make it.. you know what this is, right?”

“A siren’s coat? Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

A twinge of a smile graced his features at your sharp tone, before his face fell into a solemn expression,”It’s tradition that an heir becomes of age when he or she slays a siren and wears it’s coat as a sign of dignity, bravery, and honor. It’s been the case for many generations before me. My father earned his when he was twenty-three. My mother came from another royal family from Port Hala. They do not hold similar traditions as us, and instead do not meddle or interfere with sirens. When it came for me to sail alone and kill one, at a much younger age than my father was, my mother insisted that our family breaks the tradition. My father, as you can guess, disagreed and left no room for her arguments. She threatened to take me and make a run for it if they forced me into it, and later that night, they found her body not too far from shore. My father informed the public that it was the sirens’ doing, but no one was permitted to see her body. Not even me.”

His eyes drifted to the patch of green on the wall behind you, shaking his head and continuing with a lowered voice, “So, I sailed to uninhabited islands, knowing that there were gentle sirens there, and not like the ones that lurked here amongst humans. I met one, a very young one. He was very adventurous and snuck from his kind to chase his pet octopus and.. he was harmless, unable to hear, thus never really learning how to sing any of the sirens’ songs. He was a very naive, little one. I persuaded him to come on land with me because we were friends, and I ran off with his coat, thinking it would be the last I’ll see him. I never had the courage or heart to kill him, and I never thought he’d wash up into our town, either.”

Whatever air you had left was knocked out straight from your lungs. You knew where this was going. You held his gaze with your widened orbs, bloodied jaw slack from shock.

“I intended to kill him that night he was found, but after the doctors discovered his head injury and lack of memories, other than his name among other things, I chose to spare his life. I was afraid my father and the rest of the town will find out. I was and always will be a coward, even as King of Aurora,” he mused, hands reaching up to adjust his white blouse, “I will be on board the boat taking you to your execution. My bodyguard, Mingi, will join us, along with my father’s right hand man, who was behind Mrs. Choi’s death. She was found stealing my father’s coat, but she managed to slip away before the guards had a chance to retrieve it. My father sent him to do whatever means necessary to punish her for her actions.

I know my father better than anyone else. Without a doubt, I know he was behind her death. (Y/n), please, whatever you do, do not attempt to fight him. Go with the plan. Mingi and I already discussed everything, and he will help you out once you’re dropped from the ship. I don’t plan on allowing my father to return back to town,” his eyes grew dark, the shadows of stress aging his appearance. Your eyes widened at his implications, “And I might not make it out alive. If I don’t, Mingi will give you my coat when he rescues you. I need you to apologize on my behalf if I am unable to. Mingi is a great sailor. His father taught him, so he knows his way around a ship. I want you two to escape to Port Hala as soon as you find Wooyoung, is that understood? Take Choi San with you. Mingi will take you to Yunho and Jongho, two friends of ours who will help you. This town will have your heads if you step foot back here.”

The rush of information was too much for your tired brain to comprehend so quickly. You meekly nodded, cuffed hands reaching to clasp the bars tightly, your eyes never leaving the golden coat he donned on, “Yes, King Hongjoong.” “Hongjoong. Just Hongjoong.”

—

You struggled to maintain the heavy weight of the reinforced cuffs around your wrists, body staggering forward from a boot to your back, your frame crashing into the railing of the large ship. You hissed upon impact, the marks on your ankle bleeding against the bandages. You were roughly tugged by the hair, the bruised face of the former king coming into view as his second in command held you by your disheveled locks, “Helmsman! A bit further and then you can drop the anchor!” The old man boomed, gray tresses tied tightly into a high bun, his charcoal hues burning holes into your head. 

You snuck a glance at Mingi, whose eyes never left your form. His hands gripped the steering wheel harshly, knuckles bone-white. A subtle nod of his head washed a bit of relief over your trembling frame. Hongjoong watched from beside his father, as the man shoved your face into metal railing of the ship, sharp ends of the wood slicing your cheek. A familiar glimmer in the water captured your attention, and your eyes met a pair of golden ones deep under the calm waves of the ocean. Your eyes widened, a gasp threatening to leave your lips.

The ship finally came to a halt, and a pair of shiny, leather boots invaded your vision. You glowered at the king from your position on the deck, cheekbones bruised and lip split. You spat onto his shoes, blood splattering on his ironed, white trousers. Charcoal hues void of any empathy stared down at you, before the former king’s hand reached down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt, his crown sparkling under the bright sun. You shared a look with a tense Hongjoong who remained back, his hands clenching into fists, before you were bought back to reality as the older man slammed your back against the railing, pushing you up, your frame dangerously tilting over the edge, “After my kingdom has sacrificed so much for you stupid orphans, this is how you return the favor?” he growled, the strands of his beard tickling your forehead as he gripped your jaw with his other hand, “You will wish I had just shot you when the sirens rip you apart limb by limb. Your screams of agony will sound like a beautiful melody to my ears.”

Your eyes locked with golden ones, and you couldn’t help but reflect back on the time you confronted him in the cave.

“Why do I kill you treacherous humans?” he laughed at your question, your eyes narrowing as a result. He grasped the moving whelk on the rock, clawed fingers crushing it as his gaze never left your own, “Easy. Your King took my father away from me.”

The gruff man released his hands from your collar to swivel you around, but you hastily threw your arms out to reach his head, your vision unclear with unkempt and bloody strands of your hair. The link on your cuffs latched onto the back of his neck, and you tugged him towards you roughly, hoping gravity will be of assistance. Your frames tipped down and your lips quirked up without you realizing it. The last thing you saw before you plummeted down to the blue waters was Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s shocked faces, the latter’s frame already rushing forward to try and reach you with an extended hand. The three of you were definitely expecting this outcome You dove head first into the ocean, the elderly man beside you only feet away. Your attempts to swim up to the surface proved futile as the weights of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists succumbed to gravity. A purple tail smacked your side, and you came face to face with a familiar visage, the air escaping your lungs in bubbles. Rough claws tugged on the metal chains and cuffs, and after a few attempts, the metal snapped under the pressure. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck. Don’t try anything funny, or this time I will kill you,” the purple-tailed siren growled, turning his head to glance at the other siren who seemed to enjoy circling around the man who seemed to panic at the sight of the being across from him. Golden eyes studied the old man struggling to swim up to the surface.

You desperately gasped for air once breaching the surface of the water, arms loosely wrapped around the back of the other’s neck. He paid you no mind as he carefully watched his friend’s head surface, golden eyes trained on the white haired man yelling up at the others on board to save him. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were void of any empathy as he casually crossed his arms on the railing, leaning forward and blinking in response to his father’s shouts. He spared you a second to gaze at your form, relief melting his stoic features slightly. Beside him, the second in command made an attempt to shoot at the blonde siren silently staring at the former leader, the barrel of his pistol gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Drop it,” the deep voice of the red-head was heard from behind Hongjoong, his own pistol resting against the against the man’s temple. Hongjoong didn’t bat an eyelash as Mingi overpowered the other, threatening to shoot if he didn’t comply.

“Are you crazy!? The beast is going to kill him, and all you’re doing is watching!? You’re a sorry excuse of a king- you! You have never had the power to walk in your father’s foots-” his cries were muffled against the cold, metallic barrel of Mingi’s pistol pressing against the back of his throat.

Yeosang’s gaze met Hongjoong’s, who spared him a glance before returning back to the gasping man, his hands clawing at the ship’s hull with desperate shouts.

“Don’t you recognize me, you bastard?”

The elder’s head turned to peer at the creature with fear-filled eyes, his legs beginning to tire after the long waking minutes of staying afloat.

“A disgusting beast that preys on human flesh,” the other growled, hands stabilizing his form against the ship. His intricately embroidered vest sparkled despite it being wet, dark orbs burning holes into the siren.

Seonghwa’s brows knitted as an undecipherable look washed over Yeosang’s features, his jaw tight, gills rapidly contracting. There was a raging storm within those golden hues Seonghwa hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. Yeosang’s lips twitched convulsively, a crazed look suddenly taking over his visage.

 A humorless, sarcastic laugh escaped his throat, shoulders shaking and brows knitting in confusion as he swam closer to the trembling man, “Take a good look at me! Tell me who I am!” he barked, the rays and fins on his neck flaring in the most menacing of ways, bared teeth gleaming like the ocean’s pearls.

The white haired man drew a breath, his lips parting as he glanced once more at the trembling siren, charcoal hues flashing with recognition suddenly, “You.. you’re the son? You’re his son.”

“The one you tried to kill!,” a howl of laughter left Yeosang’s mouth, as his head dipped back to gaze at a stunned Hongjoong, “Fate is quite hilarious, do you agree? Huh?” Clawed hands struck the ship’s hull, chipping the wood and creating furrows on the surface as Yeosang inched closer, “I was forced to watch my father protect me from you, only for you to kill him in front of my eyes. How brave of you to go after a four year old siren. And now, look at you, you poor, pathetic bastard,” his clawed hand reached forward to grab a fistful of white hair, roughly tugging the man’s head back to meet the gaze of his son, “Not even your son is willing to save you.”

“Shoot him this instant, you bastard! What are you doing staring at me like that!?”

Hongjoong remained as still as a statue, cold gaze unwavering. You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch. There was a silent acknowledgement of understanding as Yeosang locked gazes with Hongjoong one last time.

“He’ll rather watch as I skin you alive. You don’t deserve the mercy of being under my song’s spell, no..” he shot his arm out, smashing the man’s face against the side of the ship, agonized howls of laughter switching to manic shouting whilst repeating the action, “No, I want you to feel everything. You’re going to feel every inch of your skin being peeled away. A coat for a coat, yes?”

A blob  of saliva flew and splattered against Yeosang’s face, dripping down to the blue waters. 

You jolted as the siren you held onto suddenly gyrated in the other direction, ripping your gaze from the scene as sounds of flesh squelching and tendons tearing came from behind. 

Seonghwa decided it will be best not to stick around to see the outcome, knowing fully well what Yeosang is capable of. He readjusted you onto his back, before commanding you to take a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine as the pained cries of the former king were washed out with the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. 

You were then enveloped in the dark waters of the ocean, the siren rapidly swimming yards away, surfacing for the briefest of moments in order for you to breathe. You had no chance to even ask him where he was taking you, and your mind could only wonder what Hongjoong was feeling at the moment. You were beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Your squinted eyes caught glimpses of the clouds of marine life that you hastily rocketed past, arms subconsciously tightening around the dark haired siren.

When the siren breached the surface, you gasped for air, your arms tightly coiled around his neck, causing him to wince and attempt to shrug you off, “Here’s the runt, as promised,” he growled, arms swiftly prying you off and shoving you forward to two other pairs. You stumbled into a tiny dinghy boat, mind too stunned to return the hugs that you were immediately enveloped in. It was the moment when fingers swiped at your cheeks that you realized you were crying, sobs of relief wracking your frame as you wrapped your arms around the other two men, struggling to explain what happened.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up as San pulled you in for a kiss, an incredulous look meeting his features. Seonghwa grimaced in the water, his head turning as he mumbled something about how disgusting humans were. San shared an apologetic look towards the flustered Wooyoung, whose eyes wouldn’t stop flickering between the two of you for an answer.

‘I’ll explain later, promise,’ the ebony haired male signed, before he was forced to meet your gaze.

“We have to go back. I need to see the King,” you stated after the three of you pulled apart. Wooyoung paused whilst speaking with Seonghwa telepathically, eyes flickering to an angered San who grabbed the pair of oars from your hands, “San!”

“Are you crazy!?” He breathed out, “We’re leaving! We want nothing to do with this town any longer, (y/n). Wooyoung and I already made amends with Yeosang. We’re only waiting for him before we escape. I’m not letting you go back there, not after all the trouble we went through to get you here in the first place.” “You don’t understand!” you tried, stammering on your words, unable to conjugate any proper sentence, “Hongjoong helped me! He knows about your mother’s death- her killer! He’s on board,” you tugged San’s shirt desperately, “Hongjoong knows about Wooyoung, too! Before he came to our town! He can explain everything, please. We need to get to him. There’s no one else on board besides them, San.”

Wooyoung’s brows shot up as Seonghwa explained every word that was exchanged, his hues trained on San’s stunned expression.

A sigh left the siren’s lips.

“Yeosang owes me a lot for putting up with this shit,” Seonghwa grumbled, arms already working to push the dinghy back to where he rescued you, your words ringing in his ears like an echo. How did Yeosang manage to find three crazy humans- and what sea god decided to curse Seonghwa with this fate.

Tattered, white and gold, embroidered fabric littered the water around the blonde siren, bloodied, clawed fingers tracing the bejeweled crown in his hands, a solemn expression on his features. A heavy weight seemed to dissipate off the siren’s shoulders as an amused chuckle racked his frame, remembering the horror stricken cries of his father’s murderer.

The sight of a tiny boat in the distance caught the siren’s attention, and his golden hues narrowed in suspicion at the sight. This was not part of their plan at all. As it neared, his eyes bore heavily into Wooyoung for an explanation, flickering to San and then onto you, before he glared at an unamused Seonghwa, most likely exchanging heated words through their minds. You called out to Hongjoong to send down a rope ladder, and the white haired male’s head peeked up hastily at the sound of your voice. If San wasn’t trembling in rage beside you, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the young king’s features.

“Yeosang, are you okay?”

“You better have a reasonable explanation for this,” Yeosang stated, turning his attention to Seonghwa, whose eyes never left the crown in his hands.

A part of you wasn’t surprised at the sight of a bound and cuffed man on the ship’s deck, a bored Mingi towering over him with his dagger unsheathed.

“I had a feeling you’ll return here,” Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement in your direction, before facing San, his expression sincere as he explained the reasoning behind his mother’s death. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, darkening the wood beneath his feet as his eyes zeroed in on the gagged soldier feet away.

 Wooyoung’s hand clasped San’s, his heart aching for his friend. Guilt licked the edges of consciousness, regretting not asking her to stay with him and Yeosang back in the cave. If only he had, she would have been alive. Even after explaining to San, the older denying that it was Wooyoung’s fault, he still couldn’t help but feel like her blood was on his hands.

“I give you full permission to do as you wish with him,” Hongjoong squeezed his shoulder, his hand placing a long dagger in San’s palms. Your widened eyes flickered between San and the King. Wooyoung tugged you back, hands gripping your own. His eyes carefully studied San’s frozen expression, fingers twitching against the weapon in his hands, “I’m willing to do it if you don’t want to, of course.”

Mrs. Choi’s killer only shook like a leaf in the wind underneath Mingi’s feet, wild eyes watching the exchange.

San was quick to shake his head, walking past a bleak looking Hongjoong. Steady strides later, and the ebony haired male crouched down eye level towards the trembling soldier, whose eyes glared ferociously at the blank faced Mingi, “You,” he took a deep breath in, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his chapped lips, “I bet you enjoyed killing an innocent woman, didn’t you?” A flick of silver, and the man winced at the thin, bleeding scrape on his cheek,”Answer me!”

Another flick of the dagger, and the binds gagging the man ripped into two, beads of red escaping the slice on his trembling lips, “King Kim ordered me to! The woman stole his coat! I was only following orders!” 

Hongjoong laughed from feet away, his boots stomping against the deck as he made his way over to the three men, arms crossed over his white blouse, “Mingi, do you think this poor excuse of a soldier hit his head on his way here? Who is the King of Aurora.”

“You, King Hongjoong,” Mingi quipped, a smile threatening his stony expression.

“And who should the soldiers take orders from?”

“You, King Hongjoong. Only you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dulled as he shoved the tip of his boot into the man’s gaping mouth, pressing down against the back of his throat with hard shoves,”How silly of me. He was only following orders, though. He’s right. One must always follows the orders of a King,” his lips quirked up as he lowered his head to chuckle at the gagging man, his smile borderline manic, “San, as King, I order you to kill him.”

The man’s muffled cries against Hongjoong’s boot had no affect on San, whose hands trembled the longer he stared at him. Hongjoong urged him to go on, kicking the man away with a swift attack to his jaw, his face scrunching up in disgust at the saliva glistening on the leather.

Rays of sunlight gleamed against the edge of the dagger as San raised it high above the fallen’s neck, his hand plunging down despite the man’s strangled cries of protest.

“You’re no better than me, you son of a whore. You take joy in hurting others, don’t you? Will you get off to the fact that you’ll kill me? Will your mommy be proud of you, then?”

The man trembled, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in shock as the dagger impaled into the wooden deck, splintering it upon impact. Moments of silence passed, the gentle breeze caressing San’s indifferent visage, dark hues hollow as he gazed down at the crying man. Hongjoong watched the retreating figure of San, before giving the sobbing man a glance over, “You’re pathetic. What did he ever see in you, anyway?” The soldier backed against the railing of the ship, profusely apologizing and bowing to Hongjoong. He turned on his heels, arm lazily coming up to wave back as he watched you console and cup San’s face in concern, “Let the sirens decide his fate.”

He ignored the agonized cries, the clanging of metal, and the loud splash seconds later, his smile gentle as he took your disheveled appearance in, “That was some stunt you pulled earlier. You saved me getting my hands dirty,” he chuckled at your expression, the scene reminiscent of the time he found the three of you in the street in the middle of shopping. 

Mingi could be heard in the background giving an approval to someone down below, and seconds later, gargled screams invaded the comfortable silence. You flashed him a small smile, fingers instinctively reaching up to give him a mock salute, “Still getting rid of rats for you, your majesty.”

An affectionate twinkle danced in his eyes as he shook his head in amusement, a hand reaching to ruffle your wet locks, “Always a loyal soldier to my kingdom, I see,” his charcoal hues flickered to Wooyoung, a sheepish expression taking over his visage, “Now I need your help getting my words through, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded, breathless as you quickly signed Hongjoong’s words to the lavender haired male, shock washing the latter’s features at the King’s words, “I hope you find it in yourself to one day forgive me, although I know I do not deserve as much for everything I have put you through,” his hands reached up to remove the coat he wore, before he presented it to the stunned male, “I believe this belongs to you, Wooyoung.”

Trembled hands slowly gripped the golden coat, his eyes peering over at San and yourself for approval. San nodded, brows knitted anxiously as he hesitantly nodded. Wooyoung tugged it on, glancing down to examine the shiny, golden material. Head snapping up, Wooyoung had only a millisecond to gauge your reaction, before the King’s hands forcefully shoved him over the railing of the tall ship, your gasp merging with San’s yelp of shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Your hands clutched the railing, eyes searching the blue waters for any sign of your friend. Yeosang and Seonghwa peered at you from the other side in confusion when you propped a leg up onto the metal, preparing to dive in, when a laugh echoed in your ear, arms tugging you back, “Calm down! He’ll show up in three, two..”

Your squirming figure halted as you stared down in bewilderment at the purple haired male staring back at you from the gentle sways of the waves. Gold pectoral fins and rays shimmered on his neck, and he looked down to study the matching fins on his forearms, jolting in surprise at the lack of legs. His head snapped to his left, where two other sirens gaped, seeming paler than they were minutes ago.

Yeosang’s eyes snapped to you, his gaze already telling you he’s going to demand answers as soon as he’s in earshot. 

San stood to your side, his eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s frame as he experimentally swam towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, both of whom hesitantly reached out to graze their clawed hands onto his tail, most likely wondering if it was real, “That’s why he was able to hear them..” you whispered softly, hands reaching up to rub at your eyes, before you cried loudly, startling the man beside you as you climbed onto the railing, arms waving madly at the three sirens, “Tell him I said he’s the prettiest siren I’ve ever seen!”

San grumbled underneath his breath, arms wrapping protectively around your waist to prevent you from falling over, “Can you try and not give me another heart attack, you bum.”

You and San returned to the tiny dinghy, your hands immediately reaching forward to touch and examine Wooyoung’s form in awe while San frantically explained everything to the impatient Yeosang. Wooyoung shot you a bashful look as you traced the gold rays and fins on his neck, before you peered closely at his now sharpened canines and iridescent, tan skin. He playfully attempted to bite your finger as you prodded his lip upwards. 

‘You look like a diamond now.’ 

Someone cleared their throat, and the three of you turned to look up at a sheepish looking Hongjoong, who clutched the ship’s rope ladder, his frame facing you. Wooyoung’s head snapped up moments later.

“I know you said you already made plans to escape the town but.. I wouldn’t mind having the best swordsman of Aurora join me and Mingi on this ship,” Two pairs of brows raised in surprise at the suggestion, your eyes snapping to meet San’s instantly. The king turned to you, his half-unbuttoned, white blouse swaying with the gentle breeze, his eyes kind and warm.

“You’re not going back to Aurora?” you asked quietly, feeling San’s fingers coiling with your own.

“No,” he mused, chuckling at the sight of Mingi’s discarded tight, golden, guard coat onto the water below, “Mingi and I made a promise when we were younger, to one day escape and put our past lives behind. I have no future in Aurora, and certainly not you three after everything you’ve pulled. Even with my word, I can’t guarantee your safety from the noblemen in the town, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, boot tapping the wooden deck, “I am in dire need of a swordsman and a..” he paused, studying you in silence, unable to conjure up a position.

“I’ll get rid of the rats on your ship, King Hongjoong,” you said suddenly, frame rushing forward to lean over the dinghy, face scrunched in all seriousness.

His hand shielded his face as soft chuckles wracked his frame, your shoulders slumping down while even San shot you a somewhat amused look, “Of course. You can be the designated rat killer. We also need to patch up that nasty cut on your ankle.” 

Yeosang grimaced at the words, eyes hesitantly casting you a glance from where he floated.

“Wooyoung will come with us too, right?” You turned to glance at your friend, who clearly understood what was going on with the shocked and anxious expression he wore. Yeosang’s golden eyes snapped to you in an instant, a bitter frown tugging his lips down, “Wooyoung is part of our family. We can’t just leave him behind, siren or not.”

“He belongs in the ocean. He’s a siren,” quipped Yeosang, eyes darkening,”His place is in the water.”

“He’s family,” you argued back, eyes narrowing at the teal-tailed siren,”Whatever you two had going on was nice and all- but he’s still part of our family. We’re not leaving him behind. Siren or not, he’s still Wooyoung.”

“Maybe you should let him decide that.”

“Two good friends of mine in Port Hala are expecting us soon, actually. We’ll just drop by months in advance– they won’t mind, I’m sure,” Hongjoong leaned back against the hemp ladder, head tilting back and allowing the sunshine to envelop his delicate features, lips gracefully parting as he took sight of the sirens,”I think we have room for three more, as well.”

San shared a look of bewilderment with you, before looking back at the white haired male, who straightened up to quirk a brow at you, “Siren got your tongue?” Wooyoung’s eyes met your own before he gazed at Yeosang with a tearful, apologetic gaze. 

Family cannot be replaced.

An airy gasp left your lips as his clawed hands reached to grasp the dinghy, before hauling himself into the boat with San’s help. You rushed to envelop him in a tight hug, face buried against the fins on his neck, San following suit moments later. Yeosang peered silently from the water, a hard look settling on his features, jaw tight and brows knitted.

His eyes flickered to San subconsciously.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding with a wistful expression across his visage , “I’ll protect your son.”

The women’s sad eyes flickered to Wooyoung and then back to the siren, “Please, protect all three of them. I consider them my children as well.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I’m going wherever Wooyoung is going,” Yeosang quipped defensively, “Seonghwa is coming too.”

“What-” a startled cry left the other’s lips, his bewildered eyes boring holes into Yeosang’s head, “I never agreed to this ridiculous change of plans. A human cannot ever be trusted, Yeosang. You know better than that.”

Conflict flickered in the golden hues, gaze trained onto the black haired siren, until a voice from above caught his attention,” We’ll have rules against touching anyone’s coats if that helps. Anyone who touches or takes your coats will be thrown overboard with no questions asked. I can guarantee that,” Hongjoong simpered, nodding his head confidently. 

“Are you really leaving?” Seonghwa gritted to Yeosang, the latter nodding his head in affirmation, “You stubborn bastard.”

“You finally have the opportunity to travel to all seven seas, and you’re going to throw it away just like that?” Yeosang quirked a brow, a knowing smile suddenly finding itself on his features as Seonghwa gives him an unimpressed look, “Besides, he’s certainly earned my trust after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“You’ve wanted to since you were young. Guess I’ll just go live your dream then,” he shrugged absentmindedly, turning to flash Wooyoung a smile, “I’ll send you a seashell as-”

“Shut up already,” Seonghwa ran a hand through his dark locks, suddenly snapping his attention to the other humans, “If I ever find you trying to steal my coat, I’ll slice you and use your flesh as fish bait.”

San paled at the threat, and Hongjoong barked out a laugh, “You heard him, crew. Now, I suggest you all to come on board before the noblemen send an armada after us for not returning back to town.”

He blinked at the gaping, fearful expressions.

“That’s an order!”

You startled at the sudden volume, hand scrambling up to salute, San peering over at you in utter confusion, not knowing whether he should bow or salute, awkwardly doing both simultaneously.

“Yes, King Hongjoong!”

A streak of gold whizzed over your head, and at the sound of a splash behind you, your head snapped in surprise at the crownless man, a smirk displayed on his sharp features, “That’s Captain Hongjoong to you.”